From the diaries of Sir Shash, July 19_
Soon after the happy reunion of Lady Florence with Stilton, Bertie and I were not surprised to note that they legged it to Malling Hall in Steeple Bumpleigh in a move, no doubt calculated by Stilton to secure Lord Worplesdon’s blessings before Lady Florence changed her mind again. Before leaving he had the temerity to put down his chasing me all over Brinkley Court to a slight misunderstanding and with a pithy ‘no hard feelings’ he put the matter to rest. I let him have his moment. My mind told me that the last thing Lord Travers and Aunt Dahlia would have liked to see is one of their guests tied to a tree and with syrup all over him. I asked Bertie if he thought the same and he said, ‘Old chap, he is about to get engaged to Lady Florence, you won’t need the syrup.’ He had made his point and I returned to the simple pleasures of Brinkley.
The grand carnival planned by Bobbie and Aunt Dahlia and financed entirely by a very reluctant Lord Travers was a week away. Aunt Dahlia, Angela and Bobbie had been chauffeured away earlier in the morning to London by a hapless Jeeves on a shopping expedition for the grand carnival. Before they left, Aunt Dahlia was kind enough to enquire if Bertie and I would like to join them. However, having previously witnessed at breakfast, the animation with the unholy trio debated the virtues of the ruby and feather headband as opposed to the jewelled tiara, we politely declined the invitation, choosing instead to make vague noises about having to attend a guest sermon being delivered by our old friend Reverend Harold ‘Stinker’ Pinker at Market Snodsbury. Aunt Dahlia looked at us suspiciously and said ‘Bah’. Then she probably realized that we would be more of a hindrance on a shopping adventure and that was that.
Bertie and I soon found ourselves taking a very pleasant walk beyond the grounds of the estate towards Market Snodsbury. It was a sunny morning when we began. However, as it often happens in England, the weather took a turn. The sky seemed to go grey rather quickly or perhaps I had not noticed the grey clouds moving in as we were busy discussing news of the Dempsey-Tunny fight. Bertie had hitherto been demonstrating to me an analysis on how Dempsey should have moved by jumping around like the fathead he was and I had been nodding along appreciatively. Now we were running down the country road in the pouring rain. The Whale Rider Inn was just up ahead. A car parked outside it, no doubt someone else having come in from the rain. The Whale Rider Inn – an ambitious name, I had to admit to myself as we entered.
Not much of a crowd inside. Just a solitary lady in a cloche hat in a corner having tea. The innkeeper was sitting in the chair opposite to her. He got up momentarily.
Another extremely well-dressed woman stood near the counter. She turned around. It was one of those ‘voila’ moments. Only it was not a ‘voila’ moment.
Bertie goggled for a while and came up with ‘Egad’ while I simply sniffed. Before us in the flesh was Madeline Bassett. Stranger things have happened but the odds of running into Madeline having said goodbye only a day earlier to Lady Florence are roughly the same as being hit by an egg on the face a day after slipping on a banana peel.
It quickly dawned on me that when Madeline had manifested, Roderick Spode could not be far behind. To those familiar with the social circles in which Bertie Wooster moves, it would not seem farfetched if I described Spode as a Silverback Gorilla with a tiny moustache. Bertie often refers to him as being about eight feet tall. To me he seemed always to be a significantly enhanced version of Stilton Cheesewright, especially mentally. Irascible, deeply suspicious, maddeningly protective of Madeline from a distance and with a propensity to shake people literally, one might say that Spode was not cheerful company. He was not as yet visible but I suspected he would soon be.
Bertie’s ‘Egad’ was met by a polite squeal by Madeline Bassett and she hurried over to us. Now Madeline is a very pretty girl indeed but given her tendency to live in a world of similes, metaphors and sentimentality, she could in short order make any normal man, and by normal I do not refer to men like Spode, choose a barefoot trek to the Yukon over the pleasure of her company.
Before Bertie could get a hello in, she had begun.
‘Oh Bertie, how wonderful to see you? And you Sir Shash. I see that you are never too far away from where Bertie is to be found. Be that as it may, the moment the door opened and both of you strode in like knights returning home from the holy war, I knew that it was a sign from Indra himself. Afterall, I had offered a prayer during my last visit to Stonehenge. It is such a primordial instinct to be able to pray to the Nature Gods. My car broke down you see. We were on our way to Brinkley Court. Poor Spode, he has ventured out in this rain with the chauffeur to find the local mechanic. Just imagine the other day I was telling Honoria, where have all the good men gone?’
‘Right Ho,’ said Bertie helplessly. Madeline had not stopped. She now held Bertie by the arm.
‘I just knew the sweet birdsong and the easterly wind had carried my agonized comment on chivalrous modern men straight over the rainbow. The angels listen to birdsong. They see someone deserving in distress and they choose to send help almost immediately.’
‘Oh rather,’ said Bertie again.
I gave a polite nod to Madeline and staggered over to where the innkeeper was. Behind him on the wall there was large photograph of a whale jumping out of water. I noticed that he had a face like a fish and he was now staring at Madeline with his mouth open. She has that effect on a certain sort of person. I was about to ask for two plates of fish and chips when the door of the inn opened and Roderick Spode appeared as if on cue.
He noticed Madeline’s arm on Bertie.
Spode, being Spode spoke eloquently.
‘What is this? Wooster? Not Wooster? Surely. No. What is this? Wooster.’
This magnificently erudite speech would have gone on for a while. However, the sound of clapping thunder interrupted it. The suddenness of the thunder startled Madeline and she jumped a little. As it happens in the novels, she dramatically fell on Bertie and he managed to catch her.
My instincts kicked in. I looked at Roderick Spode. His vocabulary had evaporated and he was simply making primeval noises now. I fancied he was about to beat his chest with both arms and make a charge at the old boy.
The thunder boomed again. The inn’s door opened with some force and a strong gust of wind blew in. There he stood, neither in the warm dim lights of the inn nor out in the grey, a curious effect of light seemingly around him. I knew who he was.
From the diaries of Sir Shash, July 19_
Perhaps it was the entry of Mr. Harley Quin into the Whale Rider Inn or perhaps it was the realization that it was stormy outside but the interactions inside the inn changed almost immediately. Spode who had turned to look at who was standing at the door seemed confused about what he wanted to do. A moment ago, he was looked ready to engage in fisticuffs, now he was turning his head from left to right to left again. He suddenly dropped his hands and went to the bar to order a drink.
Madeline’s eyes followed the newcomer as he went and sat in a corner. She stood quite still and spoke:
It is summer noon
A zephyr I see and swoon
Made of rainbow light
Bertie had steadied her and he came and stood next to me.
‘I have seen that fellow before, old chap. I could not be sure about it though, dash it!’
‘It is fine, Bertie. Why don’t you order some food for us and Madeline too.’
‘Sure, Right O! Just the weather for some fish and chips!’
I smiled at Bertie as he went to place the order. I walked up to where Mr. Quin was seated. It was near the window.
I said, ‘Mr, Quin, whatever it is that brings you here, I hope it does not involve Bertie.’
Even as I spoke, my eyes saw the play of colours reflecting off the window pane, a faint interplay of every colour that I ever knew.
He spoke softly, ‘Oh not at all Sir Shash! Perhaps you have formed a strong opinion about me.’
I sighed. ‘What difference would my opinion make?’
He looked like he was smiling. I rubbed my eye for a moment.
‘I was just out for a jaunt, this inn it looked interesting. I thought I would just rest my legs for a bit. Get a drink. It is the most natural thing, would you not say?’
I said nothing. I noticed that Madeline was chatting with Bertie. Spode was glaring but nursing his drink.
Mr. Quin continued, ‘There has been a robbery today at Market Snodsbury. Yes, at Market Snodsbury. It is nothing more than a village but it does have a jewellery shop. A woman in disguise held up the shop with a pistol in her hand. This was not the first time she has pulled off a stunt like this. Interestingly, she chose to do in on the day when the lone Constable was down with an upset stomach. Perhaps she had an accomplice in the village. Maybe she was responsible in some way for the constable’s upset stomach. This woman, I suspect is none other than Alice Diamond, a dangerous shoplifter who operates mostly in the metropolis but for a reason that I most admire, she is operating here.’
I asked, ‘What is the reason that you most admire?’
‘Love.’
I sighed. I asked him ‘Is that why you are here? To catch her?’
‘No, I have no wish to get involved. That is a job for the two constables of the neighbouring village, who are, as we speak, investigating the matter in Market Snodsbury. As I mentioned, I just wanted to rest for a few minutes. Sir Shash. I now bid you adieu.’
He left a large bill on the table and walked out of the door. Into the rain. He seemed to have forgotten his umbrella. I picked it up and went quickly towards the door. However, he was gone. Outside, the rain was torrential. I could see no sight of him in any direction. As I re-entered the inn, I noticed the woman in the cloche hat in the corner. I recalled the innkeeper sitting and talking to her. Love?She had not reacted to Bertie or me. She has not reacted to Madeline Basset. She had not reacted to Spode working up the colour purple in his face. She had not reacted to thunder in the slightest. She was still drinking her tea. No, that had to be an empty cup by now.
‘Miss Diamond!’ I said suddenly. This got a reaction from the woman. She looked at me for a moment and then she gathered herself.
‘Miss Alice Diamond!’ I said again. I heard a snarl. The pistol was aimed right at me.
Madeline cried out in fear. Spode had jumped out of his chair in shock. I noticed that Bertie was frozen midway between sitting down and standing up, a cup of brandy in his hand. Madeline’s cry had drawn Alice’s attention. She turned towards her gun towards her and shouted ‘Silence!’.
Just then Spode roared, ‘You dare point a gun at the fair maiden Madeline?’. He lunged towards her. In a sudden panic, she pointed the gun at Spode. Bertie threw the contents of his mug at her face. The brandy splashing on her face gave me the moment I needed. I ran across and smacked the umbrella handle down on her gun hand. It fell to the floor. Madeline jumped on her. ‘You dare point the gun at Roderick?’ she was shouting over and over again as she pinned Alice Diamond with both her hands. I picked the gun up and pointed it at the inn keeper.
‘Please sit down,’ I said beckoning him to a nearby chair.
Spode, Bertie and Madeline had restrained Alice.
The door opened and the constabulary walked into the Whale Rider Inn. They looked at me and the gun in my hand.
‘This is Alice Diamond, the jewel thief,’ I said.
There is not much else to add. It seems that the Chief Constable had visited the Constable at Market Snodsbury to enquire after his health. He found out that the previous night, the constable had dined at the Inn while on his beat and had fallen sick almost immediately after consuming the food. The coincidence of the Robbery the very next morning had warranted a visit to the Whale Rider Inn. The innkeeper McDonald was found to be romantically involved with Alice Diamond. My mind wandered to Spode and Madeline. I began thinking about love.
Bertie walked into my room at Brinkley and said, ‘Old Chap, I think we deserve Anatole’s finest that is about to be served. And I will be the one who tells the story.’
I smiled.
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