Jeeves in the Offing

doing so, for Kipper’s mere appearance commands respect. The muscles of his brawny arms are strong as iron bands, and he has a cauliflower ear.’
There was a silence of some moments, and it was not difficult to divine that she was passing my words under review, this way and that dividing the swift mind, as I have heard Jeeves put it. When she spoke, it was in quite an awed voice.
‘Do you know, Bertie, there are times - rare, yes, but they do happen - when your intelligence is almost human. You’ve hit it. I never thought of young Herring. Do you think he could come?’
‘He was saying to me only the day before yesterday that his dearest wish was to cadge an invitation. Anatole’s cooking is green in his memory.’
‘Then send him a wire. You can telephone it to the post office. Sign it with my name.’
‘Right-ho.’
‘Tell him to drop everything and come running.’
She rang off, and I was about to draft the communication, when, as so often happens to one on relaxing from a great strain, I became conscious of an imperious desire for a little something quick. Oh, for a beaker full of the warm south, as Jeeves would have said. I pressed the bell, accordingly, and sank into a chair, and presently the door opened and a circular object with a bald head and bushy eyebrows manifested itself, giving me quite a start. I had forgotten that ringing bells at Brinkley Court under prevailing conditions must inevitably produce Sir Roderick Glossop.
It’s always a bit difficult to open the conversation with a blend of brain specialist and butler, especially if your relations with him in the past have not been too chummy, and I found myself rather at a loss to know how to set the ball rolling. I yearned for that drink as the hart desireth the water-brook, but if you ask a butler to bring you a whisky-and-soda and he happens to be a brain specialist, too, he’s quite apt to draw himself up and wither you with a glance. All depends on which side of him is uppermost at the moment. It was a relief when I saw that he was smiling a kindly smile and evidently welcoming this opportunity of having a quiet chat with Bertram. So long as we kept off the subject of hot-water bottles, it looked as if all would be well.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Wooster. I had been hoping for a word with you in private. But perhaps Miss Wickham has already explained the circumstances? She has? Then that clears the air, and there is no danger of you incautiously revealing my identity. She impressed it upon you that Mrs Cream must have no inkling of why I am here?’
‘Oh, rather. Secrecy and silence, what? If she knew you were observing her son with a view to finding out if he was foggy between the ears, there would be umbrage on her part, or even dudgeon.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And how’s it coming along?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The observing. Have you spotted any dippiness in the subject?’
‘If by that expression you mean have I formed any definite views on Wilbert Cream’s sanity, the answer is no. It is most unusual for me not to be able to make up my mind after even a single talk with the person I am observing, but in young Cream’s case I remain uncertain. On the one hand, we have his record.’
‘The stink bombs?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And the cheque-cashing with levelled gat?’
‘Precisely. And a number of other things which one would say pointed to a mental unbalance. Unquestionably Wilbert Cream is eccentric.’
‘But you feel the time has not yet come to measure him for the strait waistcoat?’
‘I would certainly wish to observe further.’
‘Jeeves told me there was something about Wilbert Cream that someone had told him when we were in New York. That might be significant.’
‘Quite possibly. What was it?’
‘He couldn’t remember.’
‘Too bad. Well, to return to what I was saying, the young man’s record appears to indicate some deep-seated neurosis, if not actual schizophrenia, but against this must be set the fact that he gives no sign of this in his conversation. I was having quite a long talk with him yesterday morning, and found him most intelligent. He is interested in old silver, and spoke with a great deal of enthusiasm of an eighteenth-century cow-creamer in your uncle’s collection.’
‘He didn’t say he was an eighteenth-century cow-creamer?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Probably just wearing the mask.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I mean crouching for the spring, as it were. Lulling you into security.