HOT WATER

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXX, Issue 21520, 17 June 1933, Page 13 (Supplement)

HOT WATER

By P. C. WODEHOUSE „ tj „ „ Author of -If I Were You," "A Prefect". Unci*." "Th* Gold Bat," " The of Kay's." etc.. etc

CHAPTER XVll.—(Continued) Packy saw now tho part he must play. He must stand by her to tho end, nnd then join her hands to Blair Eggleston's and give them his blessing and wander out into the BUnset with a stifled gulp of renunciation. And many years later a white-haired wanderer would peer through the hedge o! an old-world garden and see children playing on the lawn with their mother—grey now, but still beautiful—and would wipe away a tear and pluck a rosebud from a bush and place it next his heart and go of! and do a lot of good somewhere. But he wished it had been someone except Blair Eggleston. Jane misinterpreted his silence. "Don't you think it's worth trying?" Packy came to himself with a start. " Of course it's worth trying." " Then what are we waiting for ?" "We aren't waiting," said Packy. " Come on." Soup Slattery stood gazing at the dim figure, and it is interesting to record that his first emotion on beholding it was one of almost maudlin pity. Unable to distinguish anything for the moment beyond a shapeless outline, he had leaped to the conclusion that Packy, deprived of his professional aid, was trying as a forlorn hope to accomplish something in his blundering amateur way for himself. And the pathos of the thing touched his kindly heart. He felt like a father brooding benevolently over his infant son. Then the figure turned for an instant; the light of the torch disclosed the features of Gordon Carlisle; and Mr. Slattery ceased to feel paternal. Mention has already been made of the dislike Soup Slattery had, for trade rivals. For partners and business associates who suddenly displayed themselves in that capacity his antipathy can scarcely be expressed in words. The discovery that Gordon Carlisle, whom he had trusted freely, was attempting to double-cross him was so unnerving that he had to sit down on the balcony wall to assimilate it.

bedroom. " Push him under the bed and get a move on," she said crisply. " I'll look after the.broken china. You've got to work quickly, Oily. Somebody may have heard that smash. How long'll it take you getting that thing open ?" " Coupla minutes." " Then snap into it. I'll be going down to the car. Wo may have to scram any minute now." She hurried through the curtains, and Mr. Carlisle, having disposed of his- unfortunate friend, as directed, returned to the safe. • His boast that only a period of two minutes would be required for its opening was completely justified. Ninety seconds had not gone by when tho steel door swung free, revealing the interior. And it was at this moment that there came to his straining ears tho sound of soft footsteps in the passage outside. Gordon Carlisle was primarily a man of intellect, but he could act. He switched off tho torch and joined Mr. Slattery under the bed. He was not in darkness long. A half minute later, light flooded the room. Somebody had pressed the electric button by the door. #*#*»* It was Packy who had pressed the electric button. Arrived at his destination with the door shut behind him, he saw no reason why the proceedings should not take place with the fullest illumination possible. The house was asleep, and nobody could see through those curtains that the room was lighted. All seemed quiet on the Venetian front. Despite her haste, the efficient Gertie had gathered up every vestige of the broken vase, and the hangings of the bed, reaching to within an inch of the floor, effectually concealed the Messrs. Slattery and Carlfsle. Nevertheless, there came to Packy that same feeling of unreasoning nervousness which had gripped him on his first visit to this room. Now that he had actually met Mrs. Gedge, the intimidating atmosphere of this boudoir of hers seemed intensified. Jane, whose reaction to the vibrations of a woman's room was less pronounced, had hurried to the safe. And now, observing its condition, she uttered a squeak of astonishment. " Why, it's open !" Packy, too, had made a discovery, " So," he pointed out, " is the window," Jane's eyes met his. He was touched to note that, brave girl though she was, she moved a little closer to him. " Somebody," she said with a slight quiver in her voice, " has been here." " Must have heard us coming and dashed out of the window," agreed Packy. "Perhaps they're on the balcony!" " I'll look." " Oh, do take care!" " No," said Packy, returning, " There's no one there. They must have gone away. It's an easy drop." The pallor of her face attracted his notice. If ever there was a girl who needed a strong man to clasp her little waist and draw her to him and stroke her hair and breathe comforting words to her, it was the hitherto intrepid Jane Opal: and it was gall to Packy to think that, simply because she had got herself tangled tip with the unspeakable Blair Eggleston, the honour of the Fr.anklyns must cause him to censor the first three items on the list. However, he could breathe comforting words, and he did so. " Don't bo scared," he said. " There's nothing to be frightened ab«Mt. They have gope. I never saw anything Hke this joint for burglars. They absolutely congest the £lace. The Chateau Blissac seems to have burglars tho way other houses have mice. However, it's all for the best. They have very conveniently opened the safe for us, so I don't see what we've got to grumble at." Jane's composure had returned. "Quick! Look inside and see if it's still there. The letter, I mean." Packy did so. " Yes, this must be it. Yes, this is it, all right." " Are yon sure ?" " Quite." " Then," said Gordon Carlisle, emerging from beneath the bed, " just hand it over." He pulled himself to his feet. There was an automatic pistol in his hand. Ho directed it at Packy. " And make it snappy," he said. To a young couple engaged in burgling their hostess s bedroom, the sudden appearance of an armed desperado is always disconcerting. Neither Packy nor Jane bore the experience with perfect composure. Jane made an odd little noise like a startled kitten and backed slowly towards tho window. Packy stood where he was regarding Mr. Carlisle, astouijded. " Stand still," said that nervous but determined man. Jane ceased to retreat. She cast a questioning look at Packy. He had proved lAnself in these last few days so noteworthy a man of resource that she was not without some faint hope that he might be able to do something about this. But Packy had no immediate plans. He was still staring at the Due do PontAdemer with bulging eyes. This sudden transformation of one on whom he had looked till now as a respectable member of 1 lie French aristocracy had paralysed him. His sojourn under the bed had not toned up Mr. Carlisle's nervous system. Such close proximity to even an insensible Soup Slattery had affected him unpleasantly. More than ever, he wanted to get this business finished and return to his own less exacting walk in life. Growing panic lent a sharpness to his voice. "Hand over that letter!" " I won't," said Packy, finding speech. He wished that Mr. Carlisle could have been just a few feet closer. He was jtist too far away for tackling purposes. " I'll count ten." " Count all you \vant." " One. . . Fwo. . ." Packy attempted to appeal to his reason. " You don't really want ft. It's just a letter. " Three. , . four, . " If you're collecting autographs. . ." " Five. . . six. . . seven. . Packy began to fell irritated. " Do stop imitating a cuckoo-clock, and let's sit down quietly and talk it over. You can't possibly want a letter that's of no value whatever except to the owner." " Eight. . . nine. . " Ten," said Miss Putnam in the doorway. " You're out!" She walked composedly into tho room, followed by Mrs, Gedge. On occasions when any little group of men and women are gathered together, nothing spoils the evening more than the absence of introductions. Tho perfect hostess will always attend to this branch of her duties first of all. Miss Putnam lost no time in making identity clear. " Presenting Kato Amelia Putnam, of the James B. Flaherty Detective Agency of New York," she said amiably, holding the pistol in her hand on a steady line with Mr. Carlisle's pelvis. " Drop that gun. And you," she added to Packy, " Keep your hands up." Mr. Carlisle's automatic dropped to the floor. Miss Putnam seemed well content. " Now we're all set," she said. " Mrs. G., mighT I trouble you to step across and pick up that cannon. And while you'ro there. . . .you that little ninctobinkus on tho writing-tablo. . ." She indicated a small wooden rabbit of rather weak-minded aspect which had apparently been designed as a penwiper. " Put it on top of his head. Wo may as well have a little demonstration in case any of them aro tempted to try any funny business. 1 ' Mrs. Gedgo laid tho object on Mr. Carlisle's hair and backed away. " Now, then,", said Miss Putnam,

For that this was Mr. Carlisle's purpose Soup Slattery had no sort of doubt. Not ■ once had the other given him so much as a hint that he too, possessed the ability to open safes. Right from the Btart, therefore, he must have been planning this vile betrayal; and there and then Soup Slattery added another maxim to that little store of wisdom which he had been accumulating in the course of an active life Never again, he told himself, would he trust confidence trick men. They weren't honest. But this was not the time for moralising. Action wa< demanded. He rose and approached the curtains once moro. and without a so-ind drew th<*m apart a-id stepped into the room. Only when lie had tiptoed to within a few feet of Mr. Carlisle's bent back did he speak.

His actual observation it is not necessary to record. It was Biblical in its general nature, and delivered through clenched teeth. It is sufficient to say_ that it caused Gordon Carlisle to jump like a Mexican bean.

From the very beginning of this undertaking, Gordon Carlisle had been extremely nervous. This sort of thing was out of his line, and he did not like it. Only the thought of what his Gertie would say if ho backed out had been able to steel him to the task. As ho ■ twisted the handle of the safe and listened for the falling of the tumblers, not even the knowledge that Gertie was outside in the passage, keeping watch, had been able to soothe his agitation. Subconsciously, he was expecting anything to happen at any moment. But he had never anything like this. In all his mental list of the unpleasant things which might occur he had not included the possible appearanco of Soup Slattery. It seemed to him, as iie heard the other's voice, that it was only the fact of his teeth having snapped together, with his tongue in between, that had prevented his heart leaping out of his mouth. It was Mr. Slattery who for the next few minutes monopolised the conversation. In a stream of well-selected words his opinion of his friend's duplicity rumbled through the room. The occasion was one when the orator would have preferred to express himself at the full capacity of his lungs, but the circumstance of the encounter precluded that. Even when whispered, however, Mr. Slattery's remarks were effective. After all, when you are calling a man a lowdown, hornjswoggling, double-crossing skunk, it is the actual words that count, not the volume of sound. Gordon Carlisle edged back against the wall. He was not a sensitive man, and mere verbal criticism had never hurt him yet. But what was weighing on his mini was the growing suspicion that all this was niere preamble. All too soon, he feared, the speaker would realise the futility of talk, and proceed to action. And he was aware what the word " action " signified in the simple lexicon of Soup Slattery. And then suddenly hope dawned. Behind Mr. Slattery's menacing form ho perceived that his Gertie had stolen silently into the room, and—what was so particularly reassuring—she was carrying in her hand a good, stout vase. From hard-won experience, Gordon Carlisle knew what his loved one could do with a vase. And this was a particularly large, hard, thick, solid vase, in every way superior to the one which a year ago she had bounced on his head, it was one of those vases which a Zulu chieftain would have been perfectly satisfied to make shift with while his knobkerrie was being cleaned at the clubmaker's. The impact of it on a skull even so tough as that of Mr. Slattery could scarcely fail to produce results, especially when wielded by one who believed in taking the full Vardon swing and getting plenty of follow-through. All that was needed was for him to keep the prospective victim's attention engaged for just those few seconds which would enable this angel of mercy to gauge the distance and take her stance. And so stimulated was Mr. Carlisle by the sight of rescue so close at hand that 1 inspiration descended on him. " Ixnay, ixnay!" he said protestingly. " You got me wrong, Soup, you got mo wrong." He saw that the girl behind the vase had stepped on to the toe, and had begun her preliminary waggle, and the sight lent him eloquence. " Surely you don't think I'd doublecross vou, Soupie ? It was like this. After you told mo what had happened that, other night—you out on tho window sill and all—l said to myself: ' The way it looks to me, poor old Soupy may feel he don't want to come visiting here again—' " Mr. Slattery's was a single-track mind. " Why didn't you wise me up that you could open petes ?" " I can't open petes." Mr. Carlisle's voice was all musical reassurance. " But some guy once told me that if you listened for tho tumblers you could get the combination, and I thought it was worth trying. You see, after what happened that night, it struck mo that you might want to wish yourself out of the thing, and—" Ho had no need to say more. And if he had said more he would have been addressing an inattentive audience. There was a sound like the collision of two heavy pieces of wood, and Soup Slattery slid to the floor. Mr. Carlisle expelled a long, whistling breath, and passed the sleeve of his cOat across his forehead. " 'At-a-girl!" lie'said reverently. His bride-to-be had no leisure to listen to verbal tributes. She was as brisk as Lady Macbeth giving instructions on what to do with the guest in tho spare

(COPTRIQHT)

AUt A PARTICULARLY HUMOROUS STORY

" William Tell stuff." There was a sharp report. The rabbit seemed to explode. "•That'll show you," said Miss Putnam, simpering slightly. There is always a somewhat breathtaking quality about a pistol shot. Miss Putnam's entire audience were visibly affected. The first to recover was Mr. Carlisle. He turned to Mrs. Gedge, spluttering. " This is an outrage!" lie said, speaking in the justly incensed tone which French Dues always employ when they have had woollen rabbits shot off their heads. " Figure to yourself, Madame, I hear a noise and 1 come at great risk and I find this man burgling your safe and I defend your property, and now this woman comes and shoots at me." Miss Putnam could not let this pass. " I didn't shoot at you. If I had, I'd of hit you." " By what right," demanded Mr. Carlisle, " am I treated as if I were a . . " All this," said Miss Putnam, " would go a lot stronger with mo if I wasn't hep that you were Oily Carlisle. Take off tlioso whiskers, Oily, we know you." "Oh, you do, do you?" said Mr. Carlisle, starting with some violence and ceasing abruptly to portray a French aristocrat in a state of righteous indignation. He was aware that the retort was a weak one, but was not feeling in good debating form Packy now spoke. He had had time to collect himself, and he saw his line of action clearly. " Smart work!" he said in a crisp, approving sort of voice. " Capital, capital! I daresay Mrs Gedge has told you that I, too, am in your lino of business. I am one of the staff of detectives employed by the London, Paris, and New York Insurance Conmpany, and they sent me here to look after Mrs. Gedge's jewels. Miss Opal came to me just now and told me she had heard noises in here, so I came down to investigate, and this fellow covered me with his gun. Most fortunately, you arrived, so nil is well. You have done splendidly, Miss Putnam," said Packy, hoping that he was not being too patronising. " I shall advise my employers to write a special letter to your firm commending you highly for your work to-night. Very smart work, indeed." " I could listen for ever," said Miss Putnam, " but I know all about you, too, Buddy. I got the London and Paris on the wire this evening, and they've never heard of you in their lives. So (hin't bother about that letter." Packy subsided. He was blaming himself. The fact that Miss Putnam had not been drowned at birth was the fault of course, of her parents. But to his personal negligence was duo the fact that she had not been drowned in the Chateau Blissac's leaky cistern. " Well," said Mrs. Gedge, " you were right." " I always am," said Miss Putnam. " You said they would try to burgle the safe to-night." " I knew they would, as soon as I heard Mr. Gedge hadn't been at dinner. One of them got him out of the way gomehow. I don't know which of them it was, but it doesn't matter." " Where is Mr. Gedge ?" demanded the bereaved wife. " Search, me." said Mr. Carlisle sullenly. " He's on my boat," said Packy, feeling that nothing was to be gained by concealing this minor point. Miss Putnam eyed him " If you beaned him and tied him up, boy, that'll make things a lot worse for yon." , " No. Ho went quite willingly. " Well, we'll go into that when we get him back." She appeared to be about to speak further, but at this moment, a voice spoke in the doorway. " Goosh!" Senator Opal was standing there in a mauve dressing-gown that matched his face. He stared in horror at the scene before him. An intelligent man, ho had no need to ask what had occurred. He came totteringly into the room, and Miss Putnam uttered a piercing cry. " Get out of the way, you mutt!" It''was too late.' He wandered across her line of fire, and Mr. Carlisle was a swift thinker. Of what occurred in the next few seconds it is reluctantly that the historian brings himself to write. He had been at pains all through this chronicle to lay stress on the intense gentlemanliness of Gordon Carlisle, and Mr. Carlisle's behaviour now fell far below its customary standard. For seeing a heaven-sent Senator in between him and his formidable foo, Gordon Carlisle definitely lapsed. Darting forward, he seized Jano. Employing her aB a shield, ho dashed to the window. Then, reaching the window, he hurled her at the on-coming Miss Putman with such force and shrewdness of aim that that efficient woman went down as if she had been polo-axed. And longbefore she had succeeded in regaining her feet the window had slammed and there came faintly from beyond it the sound of a heavy body dropping to earth. Miss Putnam did what she could. In the execution of their duties the employees of the James B." Flaherty Agency do not spare themselves. The window opened and slammed again, and this time from out of the night there sounded a fusillade of shots, mingled with the roar of an accelerated motor-engine. She came back into the room, drooping a little. " They got away," slio said. Her attention was attracted to the fact that in the interval of her absence a brawl appeared to have broken out in the 'Venotian room. Packy was still where she had left him, but he had now been joined by Mrs. Gedge, who was pulling at his arm. The liveliness of the scene was increased by the fact that Senator Opal was pulling at Mrs. Gedgo. " Stop him!". cried Mrs. Gedge, seeing her ally. "llo's eating it!" " Eating what ?" said Miss Putnam, mystified. " Don't worry," said the senator buoyantly. " He's through." He gripped Packy's hand and shook it warmly. " All finished?" " That was the last mouthful," said Packy, swallowing. " As palatable a letter as I ever tasted." / "Nice word, my boy!" "Packy," said Jane, " you're wonderful !" " I wonder," said Packy, addressing Mrs. Gedge, "if I might have a glass of water?" Mrs. Gedgo had regained command of herself. She stood there, a statue of doom " You'll be sorry," she said. "Here, what is all this?" said Miss Putnam. " Ho has eaten Senator Opal's letter." "He has? Buddy," said Miss Putnam, eyeing Packy with severity, " you must like trouble, tho way you keep right on asking for it." She suspended her remarks once more. She had espied strangers. Tho doorway had come a staring mass of them. Tho butler was there. The cook was So were what seemed a regiment of tho lesser servitors. You cannot fire pistols in a country house during the small hours without exciting interest among the domestic staff. " Get out of' here." said Miss Putnam, annoyed. She was alwa'ys opposed to the presence of the general public oh these occasions. " What do you think this is—a circus?" (To bo oonclnded next week) |