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Little Nugget, The
Part 2 - Peter Burns' Narrative   Part 2 - Peter Burns' Narrative - Chapter 17
P G Wodehouse
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       Chapter 17
       I was given no leisure for wondering how Cynthia's mother came to
       be in the grounds of Sanstead House, for her companion, almost
       before the car had stopped, jumped out and clutched me by the arm,
       at the same time uttering this cryptic speech: 'Whatever he offers
       I'll double!'
       She fixed me, as she spoke, with a commanding eye. She was a woman,
       I gathered in that instant, born to command. There seemed, at any
       rate, no doubt in her mind that she could command me. If I had
       been a black beetle she could not have looked at me with a more
       scornful superiority. Her eyes were very large and of a rich, fiery
       brown colour, and it was these that gave me my first suspicion of
       her identity. As to the meaning of her words, however, I had no clue.
       'Bear that in mind,' she went on. 'I'll double it if it's a
       million dollars.'
       'I'm afraid I don't understand,' I said, finding speech.
       She clicked her tongue impatiently.
       'There's no need to be so cautious and mysterious. This lady is a
       friend of mine. She knows all about it. I asked her to come. I'm
       Mrs Elmer Ford. I came here directly I got your letter. I think
       you're the lowest sort of scoundrel that ever managed to keep out
       of gaol, but that needn't make any difference just now. We're here
       to talk business, Mr Fisher, so we may as well begin.'
       I was getting tired of being taken for Smooth Sam.
       'I am not Smooth Sam Fisher.'
       I turned to the automobile. 'Will you identify me, Mrs Drassilis?'
       She was regarding me with wide-open eyes.
       'What on earth are you doing down here? I have been trying
       everywhere to find you, but nobody--'
       Mrs Ford interrupted her. She gave me the impression of being a
       woman who wanted a good deal of the conversation, and who did not
       care how she got it. In a conversational sense she thugged Mrs
       Drassilis at this point, or rather she swept over her like some
       tidal wave, blotting her out.
       'Oh,' she said fixing her brown eyes, less scornful now but still
       imperious, on mine. 'I must apologize. I have made a mistake. I
       took you for a low villain of the name of Sam Fisher. I hope you
       will forgive me. I was to have met him at this exact spot just
       about this time, by appointment, so, seeing you here, I mistook
       you for him.'
       'If I might have a word with you alone?' I said.
       Mrs Ford had a short way with people. In matters concerning her
       own wishes, she took their acquiescence for granted.
       'Drive on up to the house, Jarvis,' she said, and Mrs Drassilis
       was whirled away round the curve of the drive before she knew what
       had happened to her.
       'Well?'
       'My name is Burns,' I said.
       'Now I understand,' she said. 'I know who you are now.' She
       paused, and I was expecting her to fawn upon me for my gallant
       service in her cause, when she resumed in quite a different
       strain.
       'I can't think what you can have been about, Mr Burns, not to have
       been able to do what Cynthia asked you. Surely in all these weeks
       and months.... And then, after all, to have let this Fisher
       scoundrel steal him away from under your nose...!'
       She gave me a fleeting glance of unfathomable scorn. And when I
       thought of all the sufferings I had gone through that term owing
       to her repulsive son and, indirectly, for her sake, I felt that
       the time had come to speak out.
       'May I describe the way in which I allowed your son to be stolen
       away from under my nose?' I said. And in well-chosen words, I
       sketched the outline of what had happened. I did not omit to lay
       stress on the fact that the Nugget's departure with the enemy was
       entirely voluntary.
       She heard me out in silence.
       'That was too bad of Oggie,' she said tolerantly, when I had
       ceased dramatically on the climax of my tale.
       As a comment it seemed to me inadequate.
       'Oggie was always high-spirited,' she went on. 'No doubt you have
       noticed that?'
       'A little.'
       'He could be led, but never driven. With the best intentions, no
       doubt, you refused to allow him to leave the stables that night
       and return to the house, and he resented the check and took the
       matter into his own hands.' She broke off and looked at her watch.
       'Have you a watch? What time is it? Only that? I thought it must
       be later. I arrived too soon. I got a letter from this man Fisher,
       naming this spot and this hour for a meeting, when we could
       discuss terms. He said that he had written to Mr Ford, appointing
       the same time.' She frowned. 'I have no doubt he will come,' she
       said coldly.
       'Perhaps this is his car,' I said.
       A second automobile was whirring up the drive. There was a shout
       as it came within sight of us, and the chauffeur put on the brake.
       A man sprang from the tonneau. He jerked a word to the chauffeur,
       and the car went on up the drive.
       He was a massively built man of middle age, with powerful shoulders,
       and a face--when he had removed his motor-goggles very like any one
       of half a dozen of those Roman emperors whose features have come
       down to us on coins and statues, square-jawed, clean-shaven, and
       aggressive. Like his late wife (who was now standing, drawn up to
       her full height, staring haughtily at him) he had the air of one
       born to command. I should imagine that the married life of these
       two must have been something more of a battle even than most married
       lives. The clashing of those wills must have smacked of a collision
       between the immovable mass and the irresistible force.
       He met Mrs Ford's stare with one equally militant, then turned to
       me.
       'I'll give you double what she has offered you,' he said. He
       paused, and eyed me with loathing. 'You damned scoundrel,' he
       added.
       Custom ought to have rendered me immune to irritation, but it had
       not. I spoke my mind.
       'One of these days, Mr Ford,' I said, 'I am going to publish a
       directory of the names and addresses of the people who have
       mistaken me for Smooth Sam Fisher. I am not Sam Fisher. Can you
       grasp that? My name is Peter Burns, and for the past term I have
       been a master at this school. And I may say that, judging from
       what I know of the little brute, any one who kidnapped your son as
       long as two days ago will be so anxious by now to get rid of him
       that he will probably want to pay you for taking him back.'
       My words almost had the effect of bringing this divorced couple
       together again. They made common cause against me. It was probably
       the first time in years that they had formed even a temporary
       alliance.
       'How dare you talk like that!' said Mrs Ford. 'Oggie is a sweet
       boy in every respect.'
       'You're perfectly right, Nesta,' said Mr Ford. 'He may want
       intelligent handling, but he's a mighty fine boy. I shall make
       inquiries, and if this man has been ill-treating Ogden, I shall
       complain to Mr Abney. Where the devil is this man Fisher?' he
       broke off abruptly.
       'On the spot,' said an affable voice. The bushes behind me parted,
       and Smooth Sam stepped out on to the gravel.
       I had recognized him by his voice. I certainly should not have
       done so by his appearance. He had taken the precaution of 'making
       up' for this important meeting. A white wig of indescribable
       respectability peeped out beneath his black hat. His eyes twinkled
       from under two penthouses of white eyebrows. A white moustache
       covered his mouth. He was venerable to a degree.
       He nodded to me, and bared his white head gallantly to Mrs Ford.
       'No worse for our little outing, Mr Burns, I am glad to see. Mrs
       Ford, I must apologize for my apparent unpunctuality, but I was
       not really behind time. I have been waiting in the bushes. I
       thought it just possible that you might have brought unwelcome
       members of the police force with you, and I have been scouting, as
       it were, before making my advance. I see, however, that all is
       well, and we can come at once to business. May I say, before we
       begin, that I overheard your recent conversation, and that I
       entirely disagree with Mr Burns. Master Ford is a charming boy.
       Already I feel like an elder brother to him. I am loath to part
       with him.'
       'How much?' snapped Mr Ford. 'You've got me. How much do you
       want?'
       'I'll give you double what he offers,' cried Mrs Ford.
       Sam held up his hand, his old pontifical manner intensified by the
       white wig.
       'May I speak? Thank you. This is a little embarrassing. When I
       asked you both to meet me here, it was not for the purpose of
       holding an auction. I had a straight-forward business proposition
       to make to you. It will necessitate a certain amount of plain and
       somewhat personal speaking. May I proceed? Thank you. I will be as
       brief as possible.'
       His eloquence appeared to have had a soothing effect on the two
       Fords. They remained silent.
       'You must understand,' said Sam, 'that I am speaking as an expert.
       I have been in the kidnapping business many years, and I know what
       I am talking about. And I tell you that the moment you two got
       your divorce, you said good-bye to all peace and quiet. Bless
       you'--Sam's manner became fatherly--'I've seen it a hundred
       times. Couple get divorced, and, if there's a child, what happens?
       They start in playing battledore-and-shuttlecock with him. Wife
       sneaks him from husband. Husband sneaks him back from wife. After
       a while along comes a gentleman in my line of business, a
       professional at the game, and he puts one across on both the
       amateurs. He takes advantage of the confusion, slips in, and gets
       away with the kid. That's what has happened here, and I'm going to
       show you the way to stop it another time. Now I'll make you a
       proposition. What you want to do'--I have never heard anything so
       soothing, so suggestive of the old family friend healing an
       unfortunate breach, as Sam's voice at this juncture--'what you
       want to do is to get together again right quick. Never mind the
       past. Let bygones be bygones. Kiss and be friends.'
       A snort from Mr Ford checked him for a moment, but he resumed.
       'I guess there were faults on both sides. Get together and talk it
       over. And when you've agreed to call the fight off and start fair
       again, that's where I come in. Mr Burns here will tell you, if you
       ask him, that I'm anxious to quit this business and marry and
       settle down. Well, see here. What you want to do is to give me a
       salary--we can talk figures later on--to stay by you and watch
       over the kid. Don't snort--I'm talking plain sense. You'd a sight
       better have me with you than against you. Set a thief to catch a
       thief. What I don't know about the fine points of the game isn't
       worth knowing. I'll guarantee, if you put me in charge, to see
       that nobody comes within a hundred miles of the kid unless he has
       an order-to-view. You'll find I earn every penny of that salary ...
       Mr Burns and I will now take a turn up the drive while you think
       it over.'
       He linked his arm in mine and drew me away. As we turned the
       corner of the drive I caught a glimpse over my shoulder of the
       Little Nugget's parents. They were standing where we had left
       them, as if Sam's eloquence had rooted them to the spot.
       'Well, well, well, young man,' said Sam, eyeing me affectionately,
       'it's pleasant to meet you again, under happier conditions than
       last time. You certainly have all the luck, sonny, or you would
       have been badly hurt that night. I was getting scared how the
       thing would end. Buck's a plain roughneck, and his gang are as bad
       as he is, and they had got mighty sore at you, mighty sore. If
       they had grabbed you, there's no knowing what might not have
       happened. However, all's well that ends well, and this little game
       has surely had the happy ending. I shall get that job, sonny. Old
       man Ford isn't a fool, and it won't take him long, when he gets to
       thinking it over, to see that I'm right. He'll hire me.'
       'Aren't you rather reckoning without your partner?' I said. 'Where
       does Buck MacGinnis come in on the deal?'
       Sam patted my shoulder paternally.
       'He doesn't, sonny, he doesn't. It was a shame to do it--it was
       like taking candy from a kid--but business is business, and I was
       reluctantly compelled to double-cross poor old Buck. I sneaked the
       Nugget away from him next day. It's not worth talking about; it
       was too easy. Buck's all right in a rough-and-tumble, but when it
       comes to brains he gets left, and so he'll go on through life,
       poor fellow. I hate to think of it.'
       He sighed. Buck's misfortunes seemed to move him deeply.
       'I shouldn't be surprised if he gave up the profession after this.
       He has had enough to discourage him. I told you about what
       happened to him that night, didn't I? No? I thought I did. Why,
       Buck was the guy who did the Steve Brodie through the roof; and,
       when we picked him up, we found he'd broken his leg again! Isn't
       that enough to jar a man? I guess he'll retire from the business
       after that. He isn't intended for it.'
       We were approaching the two automobiles now, and, looking back, I
       saw Mr and Mrs Ford walking up the drive. Sam followed my gaze,
       and I heard him chuckle.
       'It's all right,' he said. 'They've fixed it up. Something in the
       way they're walking tells me they've fixed it up.'
       Mrs Drassilis was still sitting in the red automobile, looking
       piqued but resigned. Mrs Ford addressed her.
       'I shall have to leave you, Mrs Drassilis,' she said. 'Tell Jarvis
       to drive you wherever you want to go. I am going with my husband
       to see my boy Oggie.'
       She stretched out a hand towards the millionaire. He caught it in
       his, and they stood there, smiling foolishly at each other, while
       Sam, almost purring, brooded over them like a stout fairy queen.
       The two chauffeurs looked on woodenly.
       Mr Ford released his wife's hand and turned to Sam.
       'Fisher.'
       'Sir?'
       'I've been considering your proposition. There's a string tied to
       it.'
       'Oh no, sir, I assure you!'
       'There is. What guarantee have I that you won't double-cross me?'
       Sam smiled, relieved.
       'You forget that I told you I was about to be married, sir. My
       wife won't let me!'
       Mr Ford waved his hand towards the automobile.
       'Jump in,' he said briefly, 'and tell him where to drive to.
       You're engaged!'
       Content of Part 2 - Peter Burns' Narrative: Chapter 17 [P G Wodehouse's novel: The Little Nugget]
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