SUMMER LIGHTNING.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20302, 9 July 1929, Page 18

SUMMER LIGHTNING.

BY P. G. WODEHOUSE.

CHAPTER XV

And meanwhile, if we may borrow an expression from a sister art, what of Hugo Garmody ?

It is a defect unfortunately inseparable from any such document as this faithful record of events in and about Blandings Castle that the chronicler, in order to give a square deal to each of the individuals whose fortunes he lias undertaken to narrate, is compelled to (lit abruptly from one to the other in the manner popularised by the chamois of the Alps leaping from crag to crag. Tho activities of the efficient Baxter seeming to him to demand immediate attention, he was reluctantly compelled some little while back to leave Hugo in /he very act of reeling beneath a crushing blow*. The moment has now come to return to him.

Tho first effect on a young man of sensibility and gentle upbringing of tho discovery that an unfriendly detective has seen him placing stolen pigs in caravans is to induce a stunned condition of mind, a sort of mental coma. The face lengthens. The limbs grow rigid. The tie slips sideways and the cuffs recede into the coat-sieves. The subject becomes temporarily, in short, a total loss. Tt is perhaps as well, therefore, that wo did not waste valuable time watching Hugo in tho process of digesting Percy Pilbeam's sensational announcement, for it would have been like looking at a statue. If the reader will endeavour to picture Rodin's Tinker in a dinnerjacket and trousers with braid down the sides, he will have got the general idea. .\t the instant when Hugo Carmody makes his reappearance, life has just, begun to return to his stiffened frame. And with life came the dawning of intelligence. This gastlv snag which bad popped up in his path was too big, reflected Hugo, for any man to tackle. It called for a woman's keener wit. His first act on emerging from the dopths, therefore, was to leave the drawing room and totter downstairs to tho telephone. He. got the number of Matchingham Hall and, establishing communication with Sir Gregory Parsloe-Parsloe's butler, urged him to summon Miss Millicent Threepwood from tho dinner-table. The butler said in a rather reproving way that Miss Threepwood was at the moment busy drinking soup. Hugo, with the first flasii of spirit lie had shown for a ouarter of an hour, replied that he didn't care if she was bathing in it. " Fetch her," said Hugo, and almost added the words. " You scurvy knave." He (hen clung weakly tq, the receiver, waiting, and in a short while a sweet, but agitated, voice floated to him across tho wire: " Hugo ?" • "Millicent?" " Yes. Is that you ?" " Yes." Anything in the nature" of misunderstanding was cleared away. It was both of them. " What's up ?" " Everything's up." " llow do you mean ?" " I'll tell you." said Hugo, and did so. Tt was not a difficult story to tell. Its plot- was so clear that a few whispered words sufficed. " You don't mean ihat ?" said Millicent the tale concluded. " I do mean that." "Oh. golly!" said Millicent. Silence followed. Hugo waited palpitatingly. The outlook seemed to him black. He wondered if he had placed too much reliance in woman's wit. That "Golly!" had not been hopeful. " Hugo!" " Hullo?" " This is a bit thick." " Y'cs," agreed Hugo. The thickness ~ had not escaped him. "'.Well, there's only one thing to do." A faint thrill passed through Hugo Carmody. One would be enough. Woman's wit was going to bring home the bacon after all. -t Listen!" " Well?" The only thing to do is fur me tn tro l.nck to the dining-room and tell Uncle Clararice you've found the Empress." "Eh?"' " Found her, fathead." " flow do you menu?" " Found her in the caravan." " But weren't you listening to what I was saying ?" There were tears in Hugo's voice. " Pilbeam saw us put ting her there." " T know." Well, what's our move when he says in > ?" Stout denial " Eh?" " We stoutly deny it." said Millicent. The thrill passed through Hugo again, stronger than before. It might work. Yes, properly handled, it would work. He poured broken words of love and praise into the receiver. " That's right," he cried. " I see daylight. I will go "to Pilbeam and tell him privily that if lie opens his month I'll strangle liim." Well, hold on. I'll go and tell Uncle Clarence. I expect he'll be out in a moment, to have a word with you." " Half-a-minute! Millicent!". "Well?" " When am T supposed to have found this ghastly pig?" " Ten minutes ago, when you were taking a stroll before dinner. You happened to pass the caravan and yon heard an odd noise inside, and you looked to see what it was, and there was the Empress: and you raced back to the house to telephone." "But, Millicent! Half a minute!" " Well?" " The x old boy will think Raxtcr stole Iter." "So he will! Isn't' that splendid? iWell hold on." Hugo resumed his vigil. Tl was some moments later that a noise like the clucking of fowls broke out at the Matchingham Hall end of the wire. He deduced correctly that this was caused by the Jiinlh Earl of Emsworth endeavouring to clothe his thoughts in speech. " Kuk-kuk-kuk . . " Yes, Lord Emsworth ?" " Kuk-Carmodv!" " Yes, Lord Ernsworth ?" " Is this true ?" "Yes. Lord Emsworth." " You've found the Empress ?" "Yes, Lord Emsworth." "In that feller Baxter's caravan ?" j " Yes, Lord Emsworth." Well, I'JI be damned!" Yes, Lord Emsworth." So far Hugo Carmody had found his J share of the dialogue delightfully easy. ! On these lines he would have been We- 1 pared to continue it all night. Rut there { was something else besides " Yes. Lord | Emsworth." that he must now en- ! deavour to say. There is a tide in j the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune, and that tide be knew, would never rise higher than at the present, moment. He swallowed | twice to unlirnber his vocal chords. Lord Emsworth," he said, and, though nts heart was beating fast, his voice was f> early, there is something f would like tu take this opportunity of savinc. ft ; 'vi I come as a surprise to you, but T hope | net as an unpleasant surprise. I love ! your piece Millicent. and she loves me. I Lord Emsworth. We have loved each i: other tor many weeks and it, is my hope | at. .y°« U1 " g've your consent to our marriage lam not a rich man, Lord ' Emsworth. In fact, strietlv speaking ! except lor my salary I haven't a bean in ! the world. But mv uncle Lester owns 1 Kudge Hall in Worcestershire.—l daresay ' you have heard of the place? You turn to the left off the main road to Rirming- J iiam and go about a couple of miles— ! well, anyway, it's a biggish sort of place i in Worcestershire and my uncle Lester j owns it and the t propel tv is entailed and j I'm next in succession—l won't- pretend j that my uncle Lester shows any irulica- i tion.s ot passing in his checks, he was extremely lit last tiroo I saw him, but iftcr all, he's getting on and all (lesh

A BRILLIANT SPORTING AND DRAMATIC SERIAL. I

V (COPYMGHT.)

is as grass, and, as I say. I'm next man liij-'So 1 shall eventually succeed to quite n fairish bit of stuff and a house and park and rent-roll and all thai, so what L mean is, it isn't as if 1 wasn't in a position to support Millicent later on, and if you realised, Lord Emsworth, how wo love one another, I'm sure you would see that it wouldn't he playing the game to put any obstacles in the way of our happiness, so what J. m driving at, if you follow me, is, may we charge ahead?" There was dead silence at the 'other end of the wire It seemed as if this revelation of a good man's lovo had struck Lohl Emsworth dumb. It was only some moments later, after he had said " Hallo!" six times and " 1 say, are you thore ?" twice that it was borne in upon Hugo that lie has wasted two hundred and eighty words o( the finest eloquence on empty space. llis natural chagrin at this discovery was sensibly diminished by tho sudden sound of Millicent's voico in his ear. " Hullo!" " Hullo!" " Hullo ?" " lludo!" " Hugo!" " IIuilo!" " I say, Hugo!" She spoke with the joyous excitnient of a girl who has just emerged from the centre of a family (loglight. " I say, Hugo, things are hotting up here properly. I sprung it on uncle Clarence just now that I wanted to marry you!" "So did i. Onlv he wasn't there."

" I said ' Uncle Clarence, aren't you gratelul to Mr. Carmody for finding the I Empress?" and lie said. ' es, yes, ves, j ves, yes, to be sure. Capital boy! Capi- ! lal bo v. Always liked I int.' And I said. 1 suppose you wouldn't by any chance let me marrv him?' and he said, 'Eh, what? Marry him?' 'Yes,' I said. ' Marry him.' And he said, ' Certainly, certainly, certainly, certainly, by all means.'" And then* Aunt Constance had a tit, and Uncle Gallv said she was a killjoy and ought to be ashamed of herself for throwing the gaff into love's young dream; and uncle Clarence kept dissaving, ' Certainly, certainly, certainly.' I don't know what old Parsloe thinks of it all. He's sitting in his chair, looking iat the ceiling and drinking hock. The butler left at the end of round one. I'm going back to see how it s all coming I out. Hold the line, i A man for whom happiness and misery j are swaying in the scales three miles ! away, and whoso only medium of learnI ing "the result of the contest is a tilephone wire, is not likely to ring off inipatieutlv. Hugo sat tense and bieathless, like one listening-in on the radio to a championship fight in which he Mas a financial interest. It was only when a cheery voice spoke at his elbow that he realised that his solitude had been ini vaded. and by Percy Pilbeam at that, i i'ercy Pilbeam was looking rosy and ' replete'. He swayed slightly and his ' smile was rather wider and more pebblc- ' beached than a total abstainer's would have been. " Hullo. Carmody," said Percy Pilbeam. j " What ho, Carmody. So here you are, Carmody!" , j Tl mine to Hugo that he some- ! thing to say to this man. ! " Here, you!" he cried, j " Yes, Carmody?" "Do you want to be battered to a J ,II| P 7 " ~ •• No. Carmody. •• Then listen. Yuti didn't see me put , that pig in Hie caravan. Understand? i " But"' I did, Carmody." " You didn't--not if you want to go on j living." Percv Pilbeam appeared to be in a mood not only of keen intelligence, but ■of the utmost reasonableness and atmaI "Sav no more, Carmody," he said ! agreeably. " i take your point. You want me not to tell anybody I saw you put that caravan in the pig. Ouite. Car- ! mody. finite.' " Well. l-<at it. in mind." : 14 I will. Carmody. Oh, yes, Carmody, 1 will. I'm croing for asi roll outside, j Carmody. Caie to join me.'" ; "Go to hell!" "Ouite!" said Percy Pilbeam. He tacked unsteadily to tho door, aimed himself at ; t. and passed through. And a moment later Millicent s voice spoke. " Hugo ?" " Hullo'" •Oh. Hugo, darling, that battle's over. We've won. Uncle Clarence has said ' Certninlv' sixty-live times, and he's just told Aunt Constance that if she thinks she can bully hint she's very much mistaken. It's a walk over. They're all coming b;iek right away in the cai. I uclc C'laionce is an angel!' " So are you." "Mo?" " Yes, you." " Not such an angel as you art*." " Much more of an angel than T am, t said Hugo, in the voice of one trained I to the appraising and classifying of I angels. | " Well, anyway, you precious old thing, i I'm going to give them the slip and walk : home along the road. Get out Ronnie's ' two-seater and come and pick me up and we'll go for a drive together, miles and | miles through the country. Its the most i perfect evening." I "You bet it is!" said Hugo fervently. | What 1 i all something like an cven- ■ trig. (Jive me two ruinufes to get the j car out and live to make the trip, and j I'll be with you " "'At-a-boy!'" said Millicent. ! "' At a-baby!' " said lingo. (HATTER XVI. Sue stoou staring, wide-eyed. I his was the moment which she had tried to picture to herself a hundred times. And always her imagination had proved unequal to the task. Sometimes she had seen Ronnie in her mind's eye cold, aloof, hostile; sometimes gasping and (ottering, dumb with amazement: sometimes pointing a finger at her like a character in a melodrama and denouncing her as an impostor. The one thing for which she had not been prepared was what happened now. Eton and Cambridge train their sons well. Once they have grasped the fundamental fact of life that all exhibitions of emotion are bad form, bomb shells cannot disturb their poise and earthquakes are lucky,if they get so much as an " Eh, what?" from them. Rilt Cambridge has its limitations, and so has Eton. And remorse had goaded Ronnie Fish to a point where their iron discipline had ceased to operate. He was stirred to his depths, and his scarlet face, his rumpled hair, his starting eyes, and his (witching fingers all proclaimed the fact. " Ronnie!" cried Sue.

It. was all she had time to say. The thought of what she had done for his sake; (he thought ihat for love of him she had come to Rlandings Castle under false colours—an impostor —faced at every turn by the risk of detection—liable at any moment to he ignominiously exposed and looked at through a lorgnette by his Aunt Constance; the thought of tho shameful way he had treated her—all these thoughts were racking Ronald l'isli with a wearing anguish. They had brought the hot blood oj the Fishes to the boil, and now, face lo face with her, lie did not hesitate.

Hp sprang forward, clasped her in his arms, bugged her to him. To Baxter's revolted ears, though he tried not to listen, there came a husky cataract, the sound of a Fish's i;elf-reproaehes. Ronnie was saving what he thought of himself, and his opinion appeared riot to be high. He said he was a beast, a brute, a swine, a cad, a hound, and a worm. If he had been speaking of Percy Pilbeam he could scarcely have been less complimentary.

Even up to this point- Baxter had not liked the dialogue. It now became perfectly nauseating. Sue sa'id it had all been her fault. Ronnio said, no, his. No, hers, said Sue. No, altogether his, said Ronnie. It must have been his, he pointed out, because, as he had observed lieforc, he was a hound and a worm. He now went further. He revealed himself as ft blister, a tick and a perishing outsider. " You're not!" " I am!" i " You're not]" " I am!" " Of course you're not !" " I certainly am !" " Well, ] love you, anyway." "You can't!" "I do!" " You can't." " 1 tlo -" Baxter writhed in silent anguish. "How long?" said Baxter to his immortal soul. "How long?" The question was answered with a startling promptitude. From the neighborhood of the French windows there sounded*a discreet cough. The debaters sprang apart, two minds with but a single thought, " Your manuscript, miss," said Beach sedately. Sue looked at him. Ronnie looked at him. Sue until this moment had for--1 gotten his existence. Ronnie had supI posed him downstairs, busy about his butlerino duties. Neither seemed very glad to see him. Ronnie was the first to speak. " Oh—hullo, Reach!" There being no answer to this except "Hullo, sir!" which is a thing that butlers do not say, Reach contented himself with a benignant smile. It had the unfortunate effect of making Ronnie think that the man was laughing at him, and tho Fishes were men at whom butlers may not lightly laugh. He was about to utter a heated speech, indicating this, when the injudiciousness of such a course presented itself to his mind. Reach must be placated. Ho forced his voice to a note of geniality. " So there you are, Beach?" \ " Yes, sir." " I suppose all this must seem tolerably rummy to you ?" " No, sir." " No?" " I had alroady been informed, Mr. Ronald, of tho nature of your feelings toward this lady." " What!" " Y'cs, sir." " Who told you ?" " Mr. Pilbeam, sir." Ronnie uttered a gasp. Then he became calmer. He had suddenly remembered that this man was his ally, his accomplice, linked to him not only by a friendship dating back to his boyhood j but by the even stronger bond of a I mutual crime. Between them there need be no reserves. Delicate though the situation was. he now felt equal to it. " Reach," he said. " How much do you know ?" I " All. sir." " All ?" _ " Yes, sir." " Such as-?" Reach coughed. " I am aware that this lady is a Miss Sue Brown. And, according to my informant, she is employed in the chorus of the Regal Theatre." " Quite the Encyclopaedia, aren't you?" " Yes. sir." "I want to marry Miss Rrown. Beach." " I can readily appreciate such a desire on your part, Mr. Ronald," said the butler with a paternal smile. Suo caught at the smile. "Ronnie! He's all right. I bclievo he's a friend." " Of course lie's a friend ! Old Reach. One of my earliest and stoutest pals." " I mean, he isn't going to. give us away." "Me. miss?" said Reach shocked. " Certainly not." " Splendid fellow, Reach-" "Thank you, sir." " Reach." said Ronnie, " the time has come to act. No more delay. I've got to make myself solid with Uncle. Clarence at once. Directly he gets back to-night I shall go to him and tell him' that Empress of Rlandings is in the gamekeeper's cottage in the West Wood, and then, while lie's still weak. T shall spring on him the announcement, of my engagement. "Unfortunately, Mr. TSonnlH, the, animal is no longer in the. cottage." " You've moved it ?" ".Not I. sir. Mr. Carmody. By a most regrettable chance Mr. Carmody found me feeding it this afternoon. He took it away and deposited it in some place of which I am not cognisant, sir." " Rut, good heavens, he'll fish the whole scheme. Where is he ?" " You wish me to find him, sir ?" • " Of course 1 wish you to find him. Go at once and ask him where that pig is. Tell him it's vital." " Very good, sir." Sue had listened with bewilderment to this talk of pigs. " I don't, understand. Ronnie." Ronnie was pacing the, room in agitation. Once lie came so close to where Baxter lav in his snug harbour that tho ex seerctai:y had a flashing glimpse of a sock with a lavender clock. It was the first object of beauty that he had seen for a long time, and lie should have appreciated it more than he did. " I can't explain now." said Ronnio. " It's too long. Rut I can tell you this. If we don't gel that pig back, we're in the soup." " Ronnie!" Ronnie had ceased to pace the room. He was standing in a listening attitude. " What's that ?" lfe sprang quickly to the balcony, looked over tho parapet and came softly back. " Sue!" " What !" It's that blighter. Pilbeam," said Ronnie in a guarded undertone. He's climbing up the waterspout!" CHAPTER XVII. From the moment when it left the door of Matchingha'm Hall' and started on its journey back to Rlandings Castle, a silence as of tho tomb had reigned in the Antelope car which was bringing Lord Emsworth, his sister, Lady Constance Kceble, and his brother, the Hon. Galahad Threepwood, home from their interrupted dinner party. Not so much as a syllable proceeded from one of them. Tn the light of what Millicent. an eyewitness at the front, had told Hugo over the telephone of the family battle-which had boon raging at Sir Gregory Parsloo's table, I hi* will appear strange. Tf ever three people with plenty to sav to one another were assembled together in », small space, these three, one would have thought, were those three.. Lady Constance alone might have been expected to provide enough conversation to keep the historian husv for hours.

The explanation, like all explanations, is simple. It is supplied by that one word Antelope. Owing to the fact that some (rifling interna] ailment had removed from the active list the Ilispano-Suiza in which Rlandings Castle usually went out to din ner, Youles, the chauffeur, had had to fall back on this secondary and inferior car; and anybody who has ever owned an Antelope is aware that there is no glass partition inside it, shutting off the driver from the cash customers. He is right (here in their midst, ready and eager to hear everything that is said and to hand it on in due course to the servants' hall.

In these circumstances, though the choice seemed one between speech and spontaneous combustion, the little compuny kept their thoughts lo themselves. They suffered, but they did it. Tt would he difficult to find a better illustration of all (hat is implied in the fine old phrase, " Noblesse oblige." At Lady Constance we' point with particular pride. She was a woman, and silence weighed hardest on her. ... . • (To he continued daily.)