‘No.’

  ‘I’m as free as the air, as the expression is?’

  ‘Yes.’ I was so busy rejoicing in spirit that it was some moments before I had leisure to observe that the buck-and-wing dance which I was performing was not being abetted by the old flesh and blood. She was still carrying on with her sombre sitting, and I looked at her with a touch of reproach. ‘You don’t seem very pleased.’

  ‘Oh, I’m delighted.’

  ‘I fail to detect the symptoms’ I said, rather coldly. ‘I should have thought that a nephew’s reprieve at the foot of the scaffold, as you might say, would have produced a bit of leaping and springing about.’ A deep sigh escaped her. ‘Well, the trouble is, Bertie, there is a catch in it. The old buzzard has made a condition.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘He wants Anatole.’ I stared at her. ‘Wants Anatole?’

  ‘Yes. That is the price of your freedom. He says he will agree not to press the charge if I let him have Anatole. The darned old blackmailer!’ A spasm of anguish twisted her features. It was not so very long since she had been speaking in high terms of blackmail and giving it her hearty approval, but if you want to derive real satisfaction from blackmail, you have to be at the right end of it. Catching it coming, as it were, instead of going, this woman was suffering.

  I wasn’t feeling any too good myself. From time to time in the course of this narrative I have had occasion to indicate my sentiments regarding Anatole, that peerless artist, and you will remember that the relative’s account of how Sir Watkyn Bassett had basely tried to snitch him from her employment during his visit to Brinkley Court had shocked me to my foundations.

  It is difficult, of course, to convey to those who have not tasted this wizard’s products the extraordinary importance which his roasts and boileds assume in the scheme of things to those who have. I can only say that once having bitten into one of his dishes you are left with the feeling that life will be deprived of all its poetry and meaning unless you are in a position to go on digging in. The thought that Aunt Dahlia was prepared to sacrifice this wonder man merely to save a nephew from the cooler was one that struck home and stirred.

  I don’t know when I have been so profoundly moved. It was with a melting eye that I gazed at her. She reminded me of Sidney Carton. ‘You were actually contemplating giving up Anatole for my sake?’ I gasped. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Of course jolly well not! I wouldn’t hear of such a thing.’

  ‘But you can’t go to prison.’

  ‘I certainly can, if my going means that that supreme maestro will continue working at the old stand. Don’t dream of meeting old Bassett’s demands.’

  ‘Bertie! Do you mean this?’

  ‘I should say so. What’s a mere thirty days in the second division? A bagatelle. I can do it on my head. Let Bassett do his worst. And,’ I added in a softer voice, ‘when my time is up and I come out into the world once more a free man, let Anatole do his best. A month of bread and water or skilly or whatever they feed you on in these establishments will give me a rare appetite. On the night when I emerge, I shall expect a dinner that will live in legend and song.’

  ‘You shall have it.’

  ‘We might be sketching out the details now.’

  ‘No time like the present. Start with caviare? Or cantaloup?’

  ‘And cantaloup. Followed by a strengthening soup.’

  ‘Thick or clear?’

  ‘Clear.’

  ‘You aren’t forgetting Anatole’s Veloute auxfleurs de courgette?’

  ‘Not for a moment. But how about his Consomme aux Pommes d’Amour? ’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  ‘I think I am. I feel I am.’

  ‘I’d better leave the ordering to you.’

  ‘It might be wisest.’ I took pencil and paper, and some ten minutes later I was in a position to announce the result. ‘This, then,’ I said, ‘subject to such additions as I may think out in my cell, is the menu as I see it.’ And I read as follows: Le Diner Caviar Frais Cantaloup Consomme aux Pommes d’Amour Sylphides a la crime d’Ecrevisses Mignonette de pouletpetit Due Points d’asperges a la Mistinguette Supreme defois gras au champagne Neige aux Perles des Alpes Timbale de ris de veau Toulousaine Salade d’endive et de celeri Le Plum Pudding L’Etoile au Berger Benedictins Blancs Bombe Nero Friandises Diablotins Fruits ‘That about covers it, Aunt Dahlia?’

  ‘Yes, you don’t seem to have missed out much.’

  ‘Then let’s have the man in and defy him. Bassett!’ I cried. ‘Bassett!’ shouted Aunt Dahlia. ‘Bassett!’ I bawled, making the welkin ring. It was still ringing when he popped in, looking annoyed. ‘What the devil are you shouting at me like that for?’

  ‘Oh, there you are, Bassett.’ I wasted no time in getting down to the agenda. ‘Bassett, we defy you.’ The man was plainly taken aback. He threw a questioning look at Aunt Dahlia. He seemed to be feeling that Bertram was speaking in riddles. ‘He is alluding,’ explained the relative, ‘to that idiotic offer of yours to call the thing off if I let you have Anatole. Silliest idea I ever heard. We’ve been having a good laugh about it. Haven’t we, Bertie?’

  ‘Roaring our heads off’ I assented. He seemed stunned. ‘Do you mean that you refuse?’

  ‘Of course we refuse. I might have known my nephew better than to suppose for an instant that he would consider bringing sorrow and bereavement to an aunt’s home in order to save himself unpleasantness. The Woosters are not like that, are they, Bertie?’

  ‘I should say not.’

  ‘They don’t put self first.’

  ‘You bet they don’t.’

  ‘I ought never to have insulted him by mentioning the offer to him. I apologize, Bertie.’

  ‘Quite all right, old flesh and blood.’ She wrung my hand. ‘Good night, Bertie, and goodbye — or, rather au revoir. We shall meet again.’

  ‘Absolutely. When the fields are white with daisies, if not sooner.’

  ‘By the way, didn’t you forget Nomais de la Mediterranee au Fenouil? ’

  ‘So I did. And Selle d’Agneau aux laitues a la Grecque. Shove them on the charge sheet, will you?’ Her departure, which was accompanied by a melting glance of admiration and esteem over her shoulder as she navigated across the threshold, was followed by a brief and, on my part, haughty silence. After a while, Pop Bassett spoke in a strained and nasty voice. ‘Well, Mr Wooster, it seems that after all you will have to pay the penalty of your folly.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘I may say that I have changed my mind about allowing you to spend the night under my roof.

  You will go to the police station.’

  ‘Vindictive, Bassett.’

  ‘Not at all. I see no reason why Constable Oates should be deprived of his well-earned sleep merely to suit your convenience. I will send for him.’ He opened the door. ‘Here, you!’ It was a most improper way of addressing Jeeves, but the faithful fellow did not appear to resent it. ‘Sir?’

  ‘On the lawn outside the house you will find Constable Oates. Bring him here.’

  ‘Very good, sir. I think Mr Spode wishes to speak to you, sir.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Mr Spode, sir. He is coming along the passage now.’ Old Bassett came back into the room, seeming displeased. ‘I wish Roderick would not interrupt me at a time like this,’ he said querulously. ‘I cannot imagine what reason he can have for wanting to see me.’ I laughed lightly. The irony of the thing amused me. ‘He is coming — a bit late — to tell you that he was with me when the cow-creamer was pinched, thus clearing me of the guilt.’

  ‘I see. Yes, as you say, he is somewhat late. I shall have to explain to him…Ah, Roderick.’ The massive frame of R. Spode had appeared in the doorway. ‘Come in, Roderick, come in. But you need not have troubled, my dear fellow. Mr Wooster has made it quite evident that he had nothing to do with the theft of my cow-creamer. It was that that you wished to see me about, was it not?’

  ‘Well — er — no,’ said Roderick Spode. There was an odd, strained look on the man’s face. His eyes were glassy and, as far as a thing of that size was capable of being fingered, he was fingering his moustache. He seemed to be bracing himself for some unpleasant task.

  ‘Well — er — no,’ he said. ‘The fact is, I hear there’s been some trouble about that helmet I stole from Constable Oates.’

  There was a stunned silence. Old Bassett goggled. I goggled. Roderick Spode continued to finger his moustache.

  ‘It was a silly thing to do,’ he said. ‘I see that now. I — er — yielded to a uncontrollable impulse. One does sometimes, doesn’t one? You remember I told you I once stole a policeman’s helmet at Oxford. I was hoping I could keep quiet about it, but Wooster’s man tells me that you have got the idea that Wooster did it, so of course I had to come and tell you. That’s all. I think I’ll go to bed,’ said Roderick Spode. ‘Good night.’ He edged off, and the stunned silence started functioning again. I suppose there have been men who looked bigger asses than Sir Watkyn Bassett at this moment, but I have never seen one myself. The tip of his nose had gone bright scarlet, and his pince-nez were hanging limply to the parent nose at an angle of forty-five. Consistently though he had snootered me from the very inception of our relations, I felt almost sorry for the poor old blighter. ‘H’rrmph!’ he said at length. He struggled with the vocal cords for a space. They seemed to have gone twisted on him. ‘It appears that I owe you an apology, Mr Wooster.’

  ‘Say no more about it, Bassett.’

  ‘I am sorry that all this has occurred.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. My innocence is established. That is all that matters. I presume that I am now at liberty to depart?’

  ‘Oh, certainly, certainly. Good night, Mr Wooster.’

  ‘Good night, Bassett. I need scarcely say, I think, that I hope this will be a lesson to you.’ I dismissed him with a distant nod, and stood there wrapped in thought. I could make nothing of what had occurred. Following the old and tried Oates method of searching for the motive, I had to confess myself baffled. I could only suppose that this was the Sidney Carton spirit bobbing up again. And then a sudden blinding light seemed to flash upon me. ‘Jeeves!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Were you behind this thing?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Don’t keep saying ‘Sir?’ You know what I’m talking about. Was it you who egged Spode on to take the rap?’ I wouldn’t say he smiled — he practically never does — but a muscle abaft the mouth did seem to quiver slightly for an instant. ‘I did venture to suggest to Mr Spode that it would be a graceful act on his part to assume the blame, sir. My line of argument was that he would be saving you a great deal of unpleasantness, while running no risk himself. I pointed out to him that Sir Watkyn, being engaged to marry his aunt, would hardly be likely to inflict upon him the sentence which he had contemplated inflicting upon you. One does not send gentlemen to prison if one is betrothed to their aunts.’

  ‘Profoundly true, Jeeves. But I still don’t get it. Do you mean he just right-hoed? Without a murmur?’

  ‘Not precisely without a murmur, sir. At first, I must confess, he betrayed a certain reluctance. I think I may have influenced his decision by informing him that I knew all about — ’ I uttered a cry. ‘Eulalie?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ A passionate desire to get to the bottom of this Eulalie thing swept over me. ‘Jeeves, tell me. What did Spode actually do to the girl? Murder her?’

  ‘I fear I am not at liberty to say, sir.’

  ‘Come on, Jeeves.’

  ‘I fear not, sir.’ I gave it up. ‘Oh, well!’ I started shedding the garments. I climbed into the pyjamas. I slid into bed. The sheets being inextricably knotted, it would be necessary, I saw, to nestle between the blankets, but I was prepared to rough it for one night.

  The rapid surge of events had left me pensive. I sat with my arms round my knees, meditating on Fortune’s swift changes. ‘An odd thing, life, Jeeves.’

  ‘Very odd, sir.’

  ‘You never know where you are with it, do you? To take a simple instance, I little thought half an hour ago that I would be sitting here in carefree pyjamas, watching you pack for the getaway. A very different future seemed to confront me.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘One would have said that a curse had come upon me.’

  ‘One would, indeed, sir.’

  ‘But now my troubles, as you might say, have vanished like the dew on the what-is-it. Thanks to you.’

  ‘I am delighted to have been able to be of service, sir.’

  ‘You have delivered the goods as seldom before. And yet, Jeeves, there is always a snag.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep saying ‘Sir?’ What I mean is, Jeeves, loving hearts have been sundered in this vicinity and are still sundered. I may be all right — I am — but Gussie isn’t all right. Nor is Stiffy all right. That is the fly in the ointment.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Though, pursuant on that, I never could see why flies shouldn’t be in ointment. What harm do they do?’

  ‘I wonder, sir — ’

  ‘Yes, Jeeves?’

  ‘I was merely about to inquire if it is your intention to bring an action against Sir Watkyn for wrongful arrest and defamation of character before witnesses.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that. You think an action would lie?’

  ‘There can be no question about it, sir. Both Mrs Travers and I could offer overwhelming testimony. You are undoubtedly in a position to mulct Sir Watkyn in heavy damages.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. No doubt that was why he went up in the air to such an extent when Spode did his act.’

  ‘Yes, sir. His trained legal mind would have envisaged the peril.’

  ‘I don’t think I ever saw a man go so red in the nose. Did you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Still, it seems a shame to harry him further. I don’t know that I want actually to grind the old bird into the dust.’

  ‘I was merely thinking, sir, that were you to threaten such an action, Sir Watkyn, in order to avoid unpleasantness, might see his way to ratifying the betrothals of Miss Bassett and Mr Fink-Nottle and Miss Byng and the Reverend Mr Pinker.’

  ‘Golly, Jeeves! Put the bite on him, what?’

  ‘Precisely, sir.’

  ‘The thing shall be put in train immediately.’ I sprang from the bed and nipped to the door. ‘Bassett!’ I yelled. There was no immediate response. The man had presumably gone to earth. But after I had persevered for some minutes, shouting ‘Bassett!’ at regular intervals with increasing volume, I heard the distant sound of pattering feet, and along he came, in a very different spirit from that which he had exhibited on the previous occasion. This time it was more like some eager waiter answering the bell. ‘Yes, Mr Wooster?’ I led the way back into the room, and hopped into bed again. ‘There is something you wish to say to me, Mr Wooster?’

  ‘There are about a dozen things I wish to say to you, Bassett, but the one we will touch on at the moment is this. Are you aware that your headstrong conduct in sticking police officers on to pinch me and locking me in my room has laid you open to an action for — what was it, Jeeves?’

  ‘Wrongful arrest and defamation of character before witnesses, sir.’

  ‘That’s the baby. I could soak you for millions. What are you going to do about it?’ He writhed like an electric fan. ‘I’ll tell you what you are going to do about it,’ I proceeded. ‘You are going to issue your OK on the union of your daughter Madeline and Augustus Fink-Nottle and also on that of your niece Stephanie and the Rev. H. P. Pinker. And you will do it now.’

  A short struggle seemed to take place in him. It might have lasted longer, if he hadn’t caught my eye. ‘Very well, Mr Wooster.’

  ‘And touching that cow-creamer. It is highly probable that the international gang that got away with it will sell it to my Uncle Tom. Their system of underground information will have told them that he is in the market. Not a yip out of you, Bassett, if at some future date you see that cowcreamer in his collection.’

  ‘Very well, Mr Wooster.’

  ‘And one other thing. You owe me a fiver.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘In repayment of the one you took off me at Bosher Street. I shall want that before I leave.’

  ‘I will write you a cheque in the morning.’

  ‘I shall expect it on the breakfast tray. Good night, Bassett.’

  ‘Good night, Mr Wooster. Is that brandy I see over there? I think I should like a glass, if I may.’

  ‘Jeeves, a snootful for Sir Watkyn Bassett.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ He drained the beaker gratefully, and tottered out. Probably quite a nice chap, if you knew him. Jeeves broke the silence. ‘I have finished the packing, sir.’

  ‘Good. Then I think I’ll curl up. Open the windows, will you?’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘What sort of a night is it?’

  ‘Unsettled, sir. It has begun to rain with some violence.’ The sound of a sneeze came to my ears. ‘Hallo, who’s that, Jeeves? Somebody out there?’

  ‘Constable Oates, sir.’

  ‘You don’t mean he hasn’t gone off duty?’

  ‘No, sir. I imagine that in his preoccupation with other matters it escaped Sir Watkyn’s mind to send word to him that there was no longer any necessity to keep his vigil.’ I sighed contentedly. It needed but this to complete my day. The thought of Constable Oates prowling in the rain like the troops of Midian, when he could have been snug in bed toasting his pink toes on the hot-water bottle, gave me a curiously mellowing sense of happiness. ‘This is the end of a perfect day, Jeeves. What’s that thing of yours about larks?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘And, I rather think, snails.’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir. ‘The year’s at the Spring, the day’s at the morn, morning’s at seven, the hill-side’s dew-pearled — ‘ ‘

  ‘But the larks, Jeeves? The snails? I’m pretty sure larks and snails entered into it.’

  ‘I am coming to the larks and snails, sir. ‘The lark’s on the wing, the snail’s on the thorn — ‘ ‘