“Summer Lightning"

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 72, Issue 260, 1 November 1929, Page 10

“Summer Lightning"

A Humorous Sporting Serial

By

P. G. WODEHOUSE

Specially Written foi “The Wanganui CHRONICLE.”

CIIAI’TEK Nil (continued;. “But lie’ll give notice!” This interview had been dotted with occasions on which Baxter might reasonably have said “Tchah!” but as we have seen, until this moment he had refrained. He now said it. “Tcliah!” said the Efficient Baxter. “ There are plenty of other butlers.” And with this undeniable truth he stalked from the rooni. The wash and brush-up were still as necessary as they had been ten minutes before, but he was too intent on the chase to think about washes and brushes-up. He hurried down the stairs. He crossed the hall. He passed through the green baize door that led to the quarters of the Blandiugs Castle staff. And he was making his way along the dim passage to the pantry where at this hour Beach might be supposed to be, when its door opened abruptly and a vast form emerged. it was the butler. And from the fact that he was wearing a bowler hat it was plain that he was seeking the great outdoors. Baxter stopped in mid-stride and remained on one leg, watching. Then, as his quarry disappeared in the direction of the back-entrance he followed quickly. (Jul in the open it was almost as dark as it had been in the passage. That threatening sky had turned black »»y now. It was a sw r ollen mass of in.r,y clouds, heavy with the thunder, lightning and rain which so often come in the course of an English summer to remind the island race that they arc hardy Nordics and must not. be allowed to get their fibre all sapped by eternal sunshine like the less favoured dwellers in more southerly climes. It bayed at Baxter like a bloodhound. But it took more than dirty weather to quell the Efficient Baxter when duty called. Like the character in Tennyson’s poem who followed the gleam, he followed the butler. There was but one point about Beach which even remotely resembled a gleam, but it happened to be the only one which at this moment really mattered. He was easy to follow. The shrubbery swallowed the butler A few seconds later, it had swallowed the Efficient Baxter. 11. There are those who maintain—and make a nice income by doing so in the evening papers —that in these degenerate da # vs the old hardy spirit of the Briton has died out. They represent themselves us seeking vanity for evidence of the survival of those qualities of toughness and endurance which once made Englishmen what they were. To such, the spectacle of Rupert Baxter braving the elements could nut have failed to bring cheer and consolation. They would have been further stimulated by the conduct of Hugo Carmody. it had not escaped Hugo’s notice, as he left Sue on the terrace and started out in the wake of Millicent, that the weather was hotting up for a storm. He saw the clouds. He heard the fastapproaching thunder. For neither did he give a hoot. Let it rain, was Hugo’s verdict. Let it jolly well r.*in as niu/h as it dashed ■well wanted to. As if encouraged, the sky sent down a fat, wet drop which insinuated itself just between his neck and collar He hardly noticed it. The information confided to him by his friend Ronald Fish had numbed his senses so thoroughly that water down the back of the neck was merely an incident. He was feeling as he ‘had not felt since the evening some years ago, when, boxing for his University in the light-weight division, he had incau tiously placed the point of his jaw in the exact sp*.t at the moment occupied by his right fist. When you have done this, or—equally—when you have just been told that the girl you love is definitely betrothed to another, you begin to understand how Anarchists must feel when the bomb goes off too soon

In all the black days through which he had been living recently, Hugo had never really lost hope. It had been dim sometimes, but it had always been there. It was his opinion that he knew women, just as it was Sue’s idea that she know men. Like Sue, he had placed his trust in the thought that true love conquers all obstacles; that coldness melts; that sundered hearts may at long last be brought together again by a little judicious pleading and reasoning. Even the fact that Millicont. stared at him, when they met, with large, scornful eyes that went through him like stilettos, unpleasant though it was, had not caused him to despair. He had looked forward to the monienf when he should contrive to get her alone and do a bit of snappy talking along the right lines. But this was final. This was the end. This put the tin hat on it She was engaged to Ronnie. Soon* she would be married to Ronnie. Like a gad-fly the hideous thought sent Hugo Carmody reeling on through the gloom. It was so dark now that he could scarcely see before him. And, looking about him, he discovered that the reason for this was that he had made his way into a wood of sorts. The West Wood, he deduced dully, taking into consideration the fact that there was no other in this particular part of the estate. AVell, he might just as well be in the West Wood as anywhere. He trudged on. The ground beneath his feet was spongy and equipped with low-lying brambles which pricked him through his thin flannels and would have caused him discomfort if he had been in the frame of mind to notice brambles.. There were trees against which he bumped, and logs over which he tripped. And ahead of him, in a small clearing, there was a dilapidated-look-ing cottage. He noticed this because it seemed the sort of place where a man, now that a warm, gusty wind had sprung up, might shelter and light a cigarette. The need for tobacco had become imperative. He was surprised to find that it was raining, and' had apparently, from the state of his clot fares, been raining for quite some time. It was also thundering. The storm had broken, and the boom of it seemed to bo all round him. A flash of lightning reminded him that he was in just the kind of place, among all these trees, where blokes get struck. At dinner-time they are missed, and later on search-

parties come out with lanterns. Some-, body stumbles over something soft,’ and the rays of the lantern fall on a’ charred and blackened form. Here,! quickly, we have found him! AVhere? Over here. Is THAT Hugo CarmodyL Well, well! Pick him up, boys, and' bring him along. He was a good chap once. Mooly though, of late. Some' trouble about a girl, wasn’t it? She will be sorry when she hears of this. Drove him to it, you might almost say. Steady with that stretcher. Now, when I say 1 'To me.” Right! There was something about this picture which quite cheered Hugo up. Ajax defied the lightning. Hugo Carmody rather encouraged it than otherwise, He looked approvingly at a more than usually vivid flash that seemed to dart among the tree-tops like a snake. All the same, he was forced to reflect, he was getting dashed wet. No sense, when you came right down to it, in getting dashed wet. After all, a man could be struck by lightning just as well in that cottage sort of place over there. Ho! for the cottage, felt Hugo, and headed for it at a gallop. He had just reached the door, when it was flung open. There was a miise rather like that made by a rising pheasant, and the next moment something white flung itself into his arms and was weeping emotionally on his chest.

‘‘Hugo! Hugo, darling!” Reason told Hugo that it could scarcely be Millicent who was clinging to him like this and speaking to him like this. And yet Millicent it most certainly appeared to be. She continued to speak, still in the same friendly, even chatty strain, ‘‘Hugo! Save me!” “Right ho!”

“1 wur-wur-went in thur-thur-there to shush-shush-sheltcr from the rain and it’s all pitch dark.” Hugo squeezed her fondly and with the sort of relief that comes to men who find themselves squeezing where they had not thought to squeeze. No need for that snappy bit of talking now. No need for arguments and explanations, for pleadings and entreaties. No need for anything but a good bicep. He was bewildered. But mixed with his bewilderment had come a certain feeling of complacency. There was no denying that it was enjoyable, this exhibition of tremulous weakness in one who if she had had the shadow of a fault, had always been inclined to mat-ter-of-factness and the display of that rather hard, bright self-sufficiency which is so characteristic of the modern girl. If this melting mood was due to the fact that Millicent, while in the cottage, had seen a ghost, Hugo wanted to meet that ghost and shake its hand. Every man likes to be in a position to say, ‘‘There, there, little woman!” to the girl of his heart, particularly if for the last few days she has been treating him like a more Than ordinarily unpleasant worm, and Hugo Carmody felt that he was in that position now “There, there!” he said, not quite feeling up to risking the ‘ ‘littlewoman.” ‘‘lt is all right.” “ But it tut-tut-tut. . ’ “It what?” said Hugo, puzzled. “It tut-tut-tut-isn’t. There's a man in there!” “A man?’’ “Yes. I didn’t know there was anyone there, and it was pitch dark, and I heard something move, and I said, ‘Who’s that?’ and then he suddenly spoke to me in German.” “In German?” “Yes.” Hugo released her gently. His face was determined, “I’m going in to have a look.” “Hugo! stop! You’ll be killed.” She stood there, rigid. The . rain lashed about her, but she did not heed it. The lightning gleamed. She paid it no attention. For the minute that lasts an hour she waited straining her ears for sounds of the death-struggle. Then a dim form appeared. “I say, Millicent.” “Yes. I’m all right, I say, Millicent, do you know what?” “No, what?” A chuckle come to her through the darkness. “It’s the pig.” “It’s what?” “The pig.” “Who’s a pig?” “This is. Your friend in here. It’s Empress of Blandings. as large as life. Come and have a look.” 111. Miilicent had a look. Bae came to the door of the cottage and peered in. Yes, just as he had said, there was the Empress. In the feeble light of the match which Hugo was holding, the noble animal’s attractive face was peering up at her—questioniugly, as if wondering if she might be the bearer of the evening snack which would be so exceedingly welcome. The picture, was one which would have set Lord Emsworth screaming with joy. Millicent merely gaped. “How on earth did she get here?” “That’s what I’m going to find out/’ said Hugo. “One always knew she must be cached somewhere, of. course. What is this place, anyway? ’ ’ “It used to be a gamekeeper’s cottage, 1 believe.” “Well, there seems to be a room up above,” said Hugo, striking another match. “I’m going to go up there and wait. It’s quite likely that somebody will be along soon to feed the animal, and I’m going to see who it is. ” “Yes, that’s what we’ll do. How clever of you!” “Not you. You get back home.” “I won’t.” There was a pause. A strong man would, no doubt, have asserted himself. But Hugo, though feeling better than he had done for days, was not feeling quite so strong as all that. “Just as you like.” He shut the door, “Well, come on. We’d better bo making a move. The fellow may be here at any moment.” They climbed the crazy stairs and lowered themselves cautiously to a floor which smelled of mice and mildew. Below, all was in darkness, but there, were holes through which it would be possible to look when the time should come for looking. Millicent could feel one near her face. “You don’t think this flofr will give

way.'” she asked rather nuivuusiy, "1 shouldn’t think so. VVhyi” “Well, 1 don’t want lo breuK my neck. ’ ’

“i uu dun’t, don’t you. Well, 1 would jolly well like to break mine,” said Hugu, speaking tensely in the uurKness. It mid just occurred to him that now would be a good time for a neart-to-hcart talk, “if you suppose I’m keen on going on living witu you and Ronnie uuiug the Wedding Glide all over the place, you’re dashed well mistaken. 1 lake it you're aware that you’ve broken my bally heart, what?” “Uh, Hugo! ’’ said Millicent, Silence tell. Below, the Empress rustled. Aloft, something scattered. “Oo!” cried Miilicent. ‘‘Was that a rat!’’ “I hope so.” “What!” “Kats gnaw you,” explained Hugo. ‘‘They cluster round and chew you to the boue aud put au end to your tuisThere was silence again. Then Millicent spoke in a small voice. ‘‘You're being beastly,” she said. Kcntorse poured over Hugo in a flood. “I’m frightfully sorry. Yes, I know I am, dash it. But look here, you know. . . I mean, all this getting engaged to Ronnie. A bit thick, what? You don’t expect me to give three hearty cheers, do you? Wouldn't want mo to break into a few care-free dance-steps?” “1 can’t believe it’s really happened.” “Well, how did it happen?” ‘‘lt sort of happened all of a sudden. 1 was feeling miserable and very angrv with you, and. . . and all that. And i met Ronnie and he took me for a stroll and we went down by the lake and started throwing little bits of stick at the swans, and suddenly Ronnie grunted and said, ‘1 say!’ and I said, ‘Hullo?’ and he said, ‘Will you marry me?’ and I said ‘All right,’ aud he said, ‘I ought to warn you. I despise all women,’ and 1 said, ‘And 1 loathe all men,’ and he said, ‘ Kight-o, I think we shall be very happy.’ ” ‘‘l see,” “I only did it to score off you.” “You succeeded.” A trace of spirit crept into Millicent’s voice. “You never really loved me,” she said. “ You know jolly well you didn’t.” “Is that so?”

“Well, what did you want to go sneaking off to London for then, aud stuffing that beastly girl of yours with food?” “Bhe isn’t my girl. And she isn’t beastly.” ‘‘.She is.” “ Well, you seem to get on with her all right. I saw you chatting on the terrace together as cosily as dammit.” “ What! ” ‘ ‘ Miss Schoonmaker. ” “1 don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s Miss Schoonmaker got to do with it?” ‘ ‘Miss Schoonmaker isn’t Miss Schoonmaker, She’s Sue Brown.” For a moment it seemed to Miilicent that the crack in her companion’s heart had spread to his head. Futile though the action was, she stared in the direction from which his voice had proceeded. Then, suddenly, his words took on a meaning. She gasped. “She’s followed you down herd” “She hasn’t followed me down here. She’s followed Ronnie down here. Can’t you get it into your nut,” said Hugo with justifiable exasperation, ‘‘that you’ve been making floaters and bloomers and getting everything mixed up all along? Sue Brown has never cared a curse for me, and I’ve never thought anything about her, except that she’s a jolly nice girl and nice to dance with. That’s absoluteIv and positively the only reason I went out with her. ■ I hadn’t had a dance for six weeks, and my feet had begun to itch so that I couldn’t sleep at night. So I went to London and took her out and Ronnie found her talking to that pestilence I’ilbeam, and thought he had taken her out, and she had told him she didn’t even know the man, which was quite true, but Ronnie cut up rough and said he was through with her and came down here, and she wanted to get a word with him, so she came down here, pretending to be Miss Schoonmaker, and the moment she gets here she finds Ronnie is engaged to you. A nice surprise for the poor girl!” Miilicent’s head had begun to swim long before the conclusion of this recital. “But what is Pilbcam doing down here?’ ’ “Pilbeam?” “He was on the terrace talking to her.' ’ A low snarl came through the darkness, “Pilbeam here? ’ Ah! So he came, after all, did he? He’s the fellow Lord Emsworth sent me to, about the Empress. He runs the Argus Enquiry Agency. It was Pilbeam’s minions that dogged my steps that night, at your request. So he’s here, is he? Well, let him enjoy himself while he can Let him sniff the country air while the sniffing is good A bitter reckoning awaits that bloke.” From the disorder of Millicent’s mind another point emerged insistently demanding explanation. “You said she wasn’t pretty! ” “Who?” “Sue Brown.” “Nor she is.” '‘You don’t call her pretty? She’s fascinating.” “Not to me,” said Hugo doggedly. ‘ ‘There’s only one girl in the world that I call pretty, and she’s going to marry Ronnie,” He paused. “If you haven’t realised by this time that I love you and always shall love you and have never loved anybody else, and never shall love anybody else, you’re a fathead. If you brought me Sue Brown or any other girl in the world on a plate with watercress round her, I wouldn’t so much as touch her hand. ” Another rat—unless it was an exceptionally large mouse—had begun to make its presence folt in the darkness. It seemed to be enjoying an early dinner off a piece of wood. Miilicent did not even notice it. She had reached out, and her hand had touched Hugo’s arm. Her fingers closed on it desperately. “Oh, Hugo!” she said. Tha arm became animated. _ It

clutched her, drew her along the mouse-and-miklcw scented floor. And time stood still. Hugo was the first to break the silence. “A:«s»’ to think that not so long ago I was wishing that a flash of lightning would strike me amidships!” ho said. The aroma of mouse and mildew had passed away. Violets seemed to be spreading their fragrant through the cottage. Violets and roses. The rat, a noisy feeder, had changed into an orchestra of harps, dulcimers and sackbuts that played soft music. And then, jarring upon these sweet there came the sound of the cottage door opening. And a moment later light shone through tho holos in the floor. Millieent gave Hugo’s arm a warning pinch. They looked down. On the floor below stood a lantern, and beside it a man of massive build, who from the galloping noises that floated upwards, appeared to be giving the Empress those calories and proteids which a pig of her dimensions requires so often and in such large quantities. This Good Samaritan had been stooping. Now he straightened himself and looked about him with an apprehensive eye. Ho raised the lantern, and its light fell upon his face. And. she saw that face, Miilicent, forgetting prudence, uttered in a high, startled voice, a single word. “Beach!” cried Miilicent. Down below, the butler stood congealed. It seemed to him that the Voice of Conscience had spoken. (To be Continued)