From Bingo Little’s diary:
‘Hiss’
‘What?’
‘Hiss, Hiss’
‘Umm…’
‘Hissss Hissss’
‘You will excuse me, Stilton, old thing, if I cannot understand what you are trying to convey,’ said Bertie Wooster with a shake of his head.
They were sitting face to face in the Drones Club. A few moments ago, much to Bertie’s annoyance, Stilton had plopped himself down opposite him and slammed a piece of paper on the table. The conversation began with Stilton’s accusation: ‘You snake in the grass!’ The conversation now appeared to me, to be progressing, with Stilton making noises and Bertie growing increasingly perplexed, a state in which the old boy spends most of his afternoons.
‘I am speaking your language, you little snake in the grass; don’t pretend that you have no idea what this is,’ snarled Stilton, pointing at the piece of paper he had just banged down.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea, Stilton, and I refuse to be compared to a reptile of any sort.’
‘Let us settle this the old-fashioned way, Wooster!’
‘What?’
‘Well, fisticuffs you snake, now, right now, come on… be a man.’
‘What? In here?’
‘Well, you do have a point there. This is the Drones Club. We do not condone violence of any sort within the premises. Outside then, you worm.’
‘It looks like it is about to rain and I would prefer not to get wet. You too, Stilton, you are not immune to a bout of cold or fever, yes?’
‘What are you blabbering on about, Wooster?’
‘A cold is a mild infection…,’ began Bertie.
‘I don’t want to hear about a cold, you…you, did you write this note to me?’
‘I did not write anything to you, Stilton. Pray explain in a rational manner.’
Stilton read the note angrily. He grew redder as he read it slowly.
‘G. D’Arcy ‘Stilton’ Cheesewright, you are a fool and a clown. You are insecure and irascible. You are suspicious without reason and you deserve the unhappiness you get after breaking up with the fair Florence. She will be valued by someone who knows her true worth. Also, you are a vapid pumpkin head.’
At this moment, mirth got the better of me. I laughed aloud, and my sudden outburst caused Oofy Prosser, sitting beside me, to spill his drink in alarm over his new white suit. That, for some reason, made me laugh even harder. Oofy gave me a reproachful stare. Stilton immediately made his way over to me, shouting.
‘I knew it. It was you. It had to be you. If not Wooster, then his airheaded friend. A rodent in the grass. A rodent, a close friend of the snake.’
I stopped laughing.
‘Er, I am not sure a rodent and a snake are friends.’
Stilton’s head, which is large and shaped like a pumpkin, seemed to become even more pumpkin-like. He was gnashing his teeth.
I explained my comment quickly.
‘What I mean, Stilton, old chap, is that I did not write that note. Scout’s honour. ‘
‘I don’t believe you. It was you or it was Wooster or it was that other reptile, Fink-Nottle. Where is he?’
‘Gussie is in the Faroe Islands. You see, a new species of lizard has been discovered…’
Stilton stormed away, huffing and puffing. He had for the moment forgotten about the boxing match he had been proposing. Bertie and I looked at each other, puzzled. Bertie picked up the note. I went over to it and glanced at it. It was typewritten. The writer had no wish to disclose their handwriting. For good reason, I suppose.
From Bingo Little’s diary:
Bertie and I had legged it out of the Drones Club once Stilton had left us alone for a few moments. There was no knowing when Stilton’s more aggressive side would reappear. He appeared to be distracted with darts even as we were hailing a cab. We were now safely back in Bertie’s Berkeley Mansions apartment and I was gulping down a gin and tonic while chomping down on what appeared to be a samosa. A most remarkable thing, this samosa. It has a crisp covering around mildly spiced potatoes and peas. That is all there is to it and yet it is absolutely delicious. Jeeves pointed out that he had purchased it from a new Indian savoury shop that opened nearby. He then pointed out that Sir Shash liked to have it whenever it was raining in the afternoons along with some tea. Now, Shash was not in England at the moment. He had taken a ship over the Atlantic to San Francisco several weeks ago. So, I was curious over why Jeeves had made the purchase.
‘Sir, Mr. Wooster has grown rather fond of the snack.’
‘Right Ho! Understandable.’
‘Jeeves,’ said Bertie, showing him the note that Stilton had received, ‘What do you make of the rummy thing?’
‘This was addressed to Mr. Stilton, sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘This arrived by post, sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have the envelope, sir?’
‘No, Stilton tore it up.’
‘It is typewritten, sir; it is impossible at the moment to arrive at a deduction as to the writer of this letter. I suspect that there are a great many people whom Mr. Stilton is often unreasonable with. Any one of them could have written the letter.’
‘Well, you could get to the bottom of this, Jeeves, I have no wish to be chased around London by that lunatic. Neither does Bingo here.’
I nodded vigorously, biting into another samosa.
‘Very well, sir, I shall endeavour to solve this puzzle Sir. However, unless there are further communications, we seem to have very little to go on, sir. ‘
‘Well, apply those considerable brain cells of yours, Jeeves. If anyone can solve this, you can.’
‘Very well, sir.’
Jeeves vanished into the recesses of Bertie’s apartment.
Sometime later, Bertie and I were taking a very pleasant stroll around Hyde Park. We took a turn to the speaker’s corner and were now observing a rabble rouser addressing a crowd of five people on the necessity of making a return to the communist way of life. He seemed to be an intense and passionate speaker. However, with an audience of five, of which there were two children who were impatiently prodding their parents, it was unlikely that he was going to change Hyde Park, let alone England. Bertie took this opportunity to remind me of a time when I had been in love with a girl who had belonged to a communist group. He used the word ‘Comrade’ several times. I explained to him with conviction that one should move on from petty foibles of the past, especially when said foibles have been committed by close friends. It is human nature to fall in love, once in a while. Besides, I was now with Rosie and very much in domestic bliss.
‘Why, if it isn’t Bertram Wilberforce Wooster and Richard Little!’ said an unmistakable voice.
We turned around. It was Honoria Glossop. In tow was Oswald Glossop. Now, for those unfamiliar with my romantic history as well as Bertie’s, it might come as a surprise to know that we were both once attached to Honoria. I was attached voluntarily and Bertie was attached by compulsion thanks to his Aunt Agatha. Jeeves, as usual, managed to extricate Bertie from the attachment, while in my case, escape was due to more natural causes. However, given that we seem to move in similar social circles, both Bertie and I have remained on affable terms with Honoria. She was a formidable woman, this Honoria. If she were a bird, she would be part eagle, part peacock and something of a parrot. She had the strength of an eagle. If you were to tell me that she could toss me out of a window quite easily, I would not choose to argue with you. Bertie has often pondered if she had taken up boxing in her choice of college sports. She also had the vanity of a peacock and with good reason, given her considerable knowledge and ability to debate on just about anything. Now I compare her to a parrot here in the most elegant sense, given that her laughter mimics a train tearing into a tunnel at great speed. A nervous man would indeed be distressed at her laughter. Bertie and I were made of sterner stuff and usually handled her laughter with a stoic approach. Oswald Glossop was a young boy at an age when boys can become exceedingly trying. I had the misfortune once of tutoring him and suffice it to say that the experience was enough for me to consider a different employment option.
‘Hullo Honoria,’ said I politely and flashed a toothy smile at her. I simply nodded at Oswald.
‘Oh! Hello Honoria,’ said Bertie, ‘a surprise, a most…pleasant surprise. And with young Oswald in attendance as well.’
‘What are you two doing out in nature? I thought you both lived at the Drones. Did they let you out?’
‘Witty as always, Honoria,’ began Bertie, ‘however, you will be surprised to learn that I, Bertie Wooster am known as something of a nemophilist in certain circles. And Bingo here, he has always been a man for outdoor walks. Look at him, fit as a fiddle. He runs so fast too.’
Oswald chipped in, ‘Mr. Little does run fast, dear Sister. I saw him outrun Bartholomew once. He was running and screaming at the same time.’
‘I say, Oswald,’ I said, bristling, ‘enough of that…’
Honoria cut me short with a sharp look. She then addressed Bertie.
‘Fascinating information Bertie, as always. As I was saying, a nice surprise running into you. Oswald and I just had the most perfect afternoon lunch with Lady Florence. A nice change being back in London. We had been staying with her for a week in Bumpleigh Hall. Charming estate but we had been feeling a little restless. I suppose Florence was happy with the chance to come to the grand metropolis. She is here somewhere. She was just discussing her book Spindrift with a fan. Look, there she is.’
Honoria waved. We turned around and saw Lady Florence approaching. Young Edwin Craye, her brother was with her. Sisters and younger brothers everywhere. I then remembered that the only kid worse than Oswald, was Edwin.
‘What Ho, What Ho’ began Bertie genially.
‘Hello, Lady Florence’ I added smiling. There is a touch of Greta Garbo about Lady Florence. She really is an aristocratic beauty. The side profile does the trick as Bertie has often explained to me.
‘Bertie, Bingo, how nice to see that you two are taking a walk for a change instead of being slumped over a sofa in that awful club. One should always be striving to keep a healthy body and a healthy mind, I always say.’
‘I thought you were presently at the old lair in Bumpleigh Hall,’ replied Bertie. ‘I must say I am quite surprised to meet you in Hyde Park of all places. Quite the brother and sister outing. Oswald and Edwin together, the Lord help London. Did I tell you that Bingo and I ran into dear old Stilton? That reminds me, could you tell him that we are not to be blamed for whatever it is he is accusing us of?’
‘What are you babbling about Bertie? I understand that you are often tongue tied when you see me,’ said Florence, ‘but why should I tell D’Arcy anything? He is an idiot, he always was. After all that I had done for him! That includes this new haircut that Jeeves had suggested. The monkey has the gall to break up with me again. He is a chump and I shall have nothing more to do with him Bertie. You will have to introduce me to Sir Shash once more.’
‘The what now?’ Bertie had his mouth open.
‘Oh, come on Florence,’ said Honoria who had been silent for some time, ‘Sir Shash? He is an even bigger goof than Messrs Bertie and Bingo. He can barely speak when he talks to me.’
‘Phases of the moon…,’ I muttered and regretted it instantly.
‘What was that, Bingo?’ demanded Honoria. Florence was looking at me curiously.
‘Er…nothing. The moon. It changes. Crescent, waning, waxing, erm….it changes but, in the end, it is whole again.’
‘Has he got a touch of the sun? He sounds even more daft than usual.’ asked Honoria looking toward Bertie.
‘I assure you Honoria, Bingo is quite fit. He runs a lot, as I have said before. Why, just the other day Pongo and Oofy put a wager on a race between…’ Bertie stopped speaking when he noticed both Honoria and Florence staring at him. The old boy, when faced with particularly strong representation from the fairer sex, is about as helpful as an anvil in the attic.
Oswald and Edwin were poking each other and snorting. I realized that I needed to speak more clearly. I tried again.
‘Lady Florence and Stilton, that is what I meant. Their relationship reminds me of the phases of the moon. One evening the moon isn’t there. The next evening it is.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Lady Florence, ‘I have spent enough time in the company of you two that I have even begun to understand perfect twaddle. You should start reading books Richard. If Rosie cannot spare the time, I can suggest a few books to bring out the best in your conversational abilities. However, I understand what you seem to be saying. I must sadly inform you that no matter what your opinion of my relationship with that fatheaded and inconsiderate ape is, I am finally rid of him. He shall always have regrets and I shall have none.’
‘Well said Florence,’ said Honoria, ‘let us move along. There is a wonderful new patch of roses that I have heard so much about. Let us go and have a look. Gentlemen, we must regretfully excuse ourselves.’
‘I don’t want to see roses, Honoria’ wailed Oswald and shook her hand rather violently. He got a rap on his head from his elder sister for his loud protest. For all her faults, Honoria can sure set that little pest right.
‘Coo,’ said Edwin, ‘it must be terrible to be you, you foolish brat.’ He got a rap on his head from Florence.
This little encounter was getting better.
‘Just a moment, Honoria,’ said Florence and spoke to Bertie again.
‘Bertie, you simply must get Sir Shash reintroduced to me. I know I once berated him for his terrible taste in literature. He has puerile taste and dare I say, unbecoming. Claudine…my God, I shiver thinking about his choices. However, he can be reformed. He is otherwise a kind gentleman, well connected too, I have been reliably informed and in need of the right guidance. I have heard that he spends a strange amount of time with both you and Roberta. You must both be tired of him. Also, I am sorry to say but he does need companionship of a certain intellect and moral righteousness.’
Bertie still had his mouth partially open. I have seen him like that on New Year’s Eve. I intervened even though I had not intended to say anything on the matter.
‘Stilton was upset that someone wrote him a poisonous little letter for breaking up with you. He thinks it was Bertie. He thinks it was me. We did not write that letter obviously. And from what I know of Stilton, he will be thinking of you in about three days from now.’
Now this revelation had their attention. Bertie had shut his mouth and was looking at me in surprise.
‘Women, they cannot resist gossip,’ I have often observed to myself. Never in front of Rosie though.
‘A poisonous letter, you say?’ said Honoria, ‘What did it say?’
‘Let him be upset, he deserved every bad word coming his way, the ignoramus,’ said Florence.
‘Nothing that we can remember,’ I quipped.
‘Something a jilted suitor wrote, perhaps’ said Honoria looking at Florence, ‘You do have so many admirers, Florence.
I must say this was a bit uncharacteristic of Honoria. Did I detect a bit of the old sin?
‘Not as many admirers as you Honoria,’ replied Florence, ‘I know that many admire you for your athleticism.’
To me, Florence’s tone had taken on a frigid quality. A week with Honoria and Oswald will take its toll eventually.
Bertie and I looked at each other. Apparently, the old chap had reached the same conclusion.
Bertie said hastily, ‘Ladies you have to excuse us, both Bingo and I have an appointment with the tailor. Well, it has been a most charming encounter, one that I shall always cherish. Well…Pip! Pip!’
I muttered a polite ‘goodbye’ to the two women and we slunk away as fast as we have ever done.
From Bingo Little’s diary:
It was the next day at lunch at Bertie’s apartment that Bertie and I were listening to Jeeves in complete bewilderment. The man had already solved the conundrum of the anonymous letter. We had put the matter in his hands only twenty-four hours ago. Yet, here he was, confident in his assertion that the mysterious writer had been identified.
He began explaining.
‘Sirs, I am afraid, I must venture into a bit of a monologue.’
‘Proceed, Jeeves,’ said Bertie, ‘we shall only interrupt if we cannot follow the workings of your great brain.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘After you had explained to me, the gravity of the threats that Mr. Cheesewright had been issuing to you both, I realized that he would inevitably take the matter further and arrive here for a most unwanted escalation. He has been unreasonable in his conduct before, often arriving without notice and speaking in an unusually loud voice.
The logical step was to get to the source of the break up. It must have happened recently. I assumed that it may have happened at Bumpleigh Hall. My assumption was correct. The breakup happened only three days ago.
I was able to gather this information from Waterbury, the new butler at Bumpleigh Hall, a man I have known for a while and have had the opportunity to train on occasion.
While Waterbury is exceptionally discreet, he relented to part with information once I impressed upon him the irrationality of Mr. Cheeswright’s conduct in the Drones and the possibility that it could get worse. I gathered that Waterbury was also a little upset at the brusqueness with which Mr. Cheesewright had been talking to him at Bumpleigh. Also, he has not taken kindly to Mr. Cheesewright creating a small scene in front of Miss Honoria Glossop, Master Oswald Glossop and Master Edwin Craye who were within hearing distance and departing Bumpleigh. He mentioned with some dismay that Lady Florence was upset and has travelled to London for a few days along with Miss Honoria.
Considering that there were only five witnesses to the scene including Waterbury, I began to eliminate each witness as a potential author of the letter in my possession.
Waterbury, I eliminate first as he has been employed there only about a month and it is unlikely that he had very strong opinions about the matter.
Unless, Miss Craye was of unsound mind, she would not refer to herself in the third person as in the letter.
Then, I wondered for a while about Miss Honoria Glossop. My impression of that very capable young lady is that she prefers the direct and blunt approach. If she has wished to let Mr. Cheesewright, have it, he would have most certainly had it.’
These eliminations left me in a strange predicament. Only Master Edwin and Master Oswald. Master Edwin Craye is Lady Florence Craye’s younger brother and it is unlikely that a younger brother would refer to his older sister as ‘The Fair Florence.’ Also, from Mr. Wooster’s extensive experience with Edwin Craye, I summarized that his preferred mode of retribution would be to burn down something important to Mr. Cheesewright.
The answer was clear. Young Oswald Glossop. With access to a typewriter, no doubt the very same that was being used by Lady Florence in pursuit of her literary ambitions. Master Glossop is at the age when many young boys may develop an infatuation. Her Ladyship is a striking woman, especially seen from the side. I have often noticed gentlemen being tongue tied with aristocratic demeanour and her forceful nature…’
‘I say, Jeeves,’ Bertie interrupted with some passion, ‘tongue tied, that is a bit much, who exactly are you referring to?’
‘Some gentlemen, sir’
‘Right Ho! Pray, continue.’
‘Right, sir. As I mentioned, I had deduced it was Master Oswald. It was only a matter of confirming the same. Knowing fully well, that Lady Florence and Miss Glossop would choose only two or three hotels in the city for their stay, I was quickly able to locate them with a few enquiries. Last evening, while you were dining at the Ritz, I slipped away. I took the liberty of presenting myself in the hotel lobby to Lady Florence and Miss Glossop with flowers and chocolates from you. They were delighted. At an opportune moment, I showed over the letter to Master Oswald and said, ‘Mr. Cheesewright knows.’ The young lad stared at it, horrified. I put the letter back in my pocket. His look had confirmed my theory.’
‘This is astonishing work, Jeeves,’ said Bertie, ‘You stand alone, as always.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Goodness me, Jeeves,’ said I, ‘Boys, these days!’
‘Sir, I humbly submit that some of them grow up to be perfectly affable but romantic gentlemen.’
I had no answer to that.
THE END.
Leave a Reply