The Code of the Woosters

by P.G. Wodehouse

after undergoing the passing discomfort, unavoidable when you drink Jeeves’s patent morning revivers, of having the top of the skull fly up to the ceiling and the eyes shoot out of their sockets and rebound from the opposite wall like racquet balls, felt better.

His whole attitude recalled irresistibly to the mind that of some assiduous hound who will persist in laying a dead rat on the drawing-room carpet, though repeatedly apprised by word and gesture that the market for same is sluggish or even non-existent.

‘He won’t be giving you anything, my gay young tapeworm. I am entertaining Pomona Grindle, the novelist, to the midday meal.’

‘Hullo, hullo,’ he said. ‘I know you, young man. I never forget a face. You came up before me once.’ I bowed slightly. ‘But not twice. Good! Learned your lesson, eh? Going straight now? Capital. Now, let me see, what was it? Don’t tell me. It’s coming back. Of course, yes. Bag-snatching.’ ‘No, no. It was—’

don’t know if you have even seen those pictures in the papers of Dictators with tilted chins and blazing eyes, inflaming the populace with fiery words on the occasion of the opening of a new skittle alley, but that was what he reminded me of.

It was evident that information which she yearned to uncork was bubbling within her, but she postponed letting it go for a moment in order to reproach me for being in bed at such an hour. Sunk, as she termed it in her forthright way, in hoggish slumber.

quite understand, sir. And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment in this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’ ‘Exactly. You take the words out of my mouth.’

a general atmosphere of what is known as old-world peace. Cows were mooing in the distance, sheep and birds respectively bleating and tootling, and from somewhere near at hand there came the report of a gun, indicating that someone was having a whirl at the local rabbits.

‘We’ve both caught him at it,’ said old Bassett. ‘All over London. Wherever you go in London, there you will find this fellow stealing bags and umbrellas. And now in the heart of Gloucestershire.’

You ought to have seen old Bassett’s eye just now on learning of blood relationship of self and Uncle Tom. Like ambassador finding veiled woman snooping round safe containing secret treaty. Sorry and all that, but nothing doing. Love.

Never met a chap I respected more. They don’t often make them like Gussie. One of the fruitiest.’

From his earliest years, there has always been something distinctive and individual about Gussie’s timbre, reminding the hearer partly of an escape of gas from a gas pipe and partly of a sheep calling to its young in the lambing season.

Even across the room one could see that, when it came to self-confidence, Mussolini could have taken his correspondence course.

‘A week ago, Bertie,’ he began, ‘my affairs had reached a crisis. I was faced by an ordeal, the mere prospect of which blackened the horizon. I discovered that I would have to make a speech at the wedding breakfast.’ ‘Well, naturally.’ ‘I know, but for some reason I had not foreseen it, and the news came as a stunning blow.

‘How do you mean, his mission? Is he someone special?’ ‘Don’t you ever read the papers? Roderick Spode is the founder and head of the Saviours of Britain, a Fascist organization better known as the Black Shorts. His general idea, if he doesn’t get knocked on the head with a bottle in one of the frequent brawls in which he and his followers indulge, is to make himself a Dictator.’

I imagine that the dear girl must have hauled up her slacks about me in a way that led him to suppose that what he was getting was a sort of cross between Robert Taylor and Einstein.

shall come up before him.’ ‘Then he does still operate, even though retired?’ I said, remembering with some uneasiness the conversation between this ex-beak and Roderick Spode in the collection room. ‘He only retired from Bosher Street. You can’t choke a man off magistrating, once it’s in his blood. He’s a Justice of the Peace now. He holds a sort of Star Chamber court in the library. That’s where I always come up. I’ll be flitting about, doing the flowers, or sitting in my room with a good book, and the butler comes and says I’m wanted in the library. And there’s Uncle Watkyn at the desk, looking like Judge Jeffreys, with Oates waiting to give evidence.’

I thought of Stinker, the youth. Built rather on the lines of Roderick Spode, he had played Rugby football not only for his University but also for England, and at the art of hurling an opponent into a mud puddle and jumping on his neck with cleated boots had had few, if any, superiors.

‘What I was turning over in my mind was the thought that, if he had some chink in his armour, one might hold him up by means of it, thus drawing his fangs. I remember, when I was a girl, seeing your Uncle George kiss my governess, and it was amazing how it eased the strain later on, when there was any question of her keeping me in after school to write out the principal imports and exports of the United Kingdom.

‘Under Rule Eleven, every new member is required to supply the club with full information regarding his employer. This not only provides entertaining reading, but serves as a warning to members who may be contemplating taking service with gentlemen who fall short of the ideal.’

Cost what it may, ye Sec. must be made to understand—and understand thoroughly—that now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party.’

You know what engaged couples are like in mixed company, as a rule. They put their heads together and converse in whispers. They slap and giggle. They pat and prod. I have even known the female member of the duo to feed her companion with a fork.

How are you on knotting sheets, Bertie?’ I could not follow what is known as the transition of thought. ‘Knotting sheets?’ ‘I was thinking it over under the bed, while you and Spode were chatting, and I came to the conclusion that the only thing to be done is for us to take the sheets off your bed and tie knots in them, and then you can lower me down from the window. They do it in books, and I have an idea I’ve seen it in the movies. Once outside, I can take your car and drive up to London. After that, my plans are uncertain. I may go to California.’ ‘California?’ ‘It’s seven thousand miles away. Spode would hardly come to California.’

‘Quite sure, sir. Were I to do so, it is probable that my resignation would be called for.’ ‘Well, I wouldn’t want that to happen, of course.’ I hated to think of a squad of butlers forming a hollow square while the Committee snipped his buttons off.

we are still faced by this Becher’s Brook, that young Stiffy continues in possession of the notebook.

This is an obstacle in a British horse race.

Totleigh Towers was one of those country houses which had been built at a time when people planning a little nest had the idea that a bedroom was not a bedroom unless you could give an informal dance for about fifty couples in it, and this sanctum could have accommodated a dozen Stiffys.

And I consider that I have had a very lucky escape. If he is the sort of man who is going to refuse me every little thing I ask, I’m glad I found it out in time. I’m delighted about the whole thing.’

‘I say, what do you think he would get?’ ‘I appreciate your zeal for knowledge, Mr Wooster, but at the moment I am not prepared to confide in you. In the words of the late Lord Asquith, I can only say “Wait and see”. I think it is possible that your curiosity may be gratified before long.’

Bertie, my engagement to Augustus is at an end.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You knew?’ ‘Oh, rather. He told me.’ ‘Then you know why I asked you to come here. I wanted to say—’ ‘Yes.’ ‘That I am willing—’ ‘Yes.’ ‘To make you happy.’ She appeared to be held up for a moment by a slight return of the old tonsil trouble, but after another brace of gulps she got it out. ‘I will be your wife, Bertie.’ I suppose that after this most chaps would have thought it scarcely worthwhile to struggle against the inev., but I had a dash at it. With such vital issues at stake, one would have felt a chump if one had left any stone unturned. ‘Awfully decent of you,’ I said civilly. ‘Deeply sensible of the honour, and what not. But have you thought? Have you reflected? Don’t you feel you’re being a bit rough on poor old Gussie?’

I tuned out. You can’t make any headway with that tout comprendre, c’est tout pardonner stuff if the girl won’t listen.

Everyone, I suppose, has experienced the sensation of comfort and relief which comes when you are being given the runaround by forces beyond your control and suddenly discover someone on whom you can work off the pent-up feelings. The merchant prince, when things are going wrong, takes it out of the junior clerk. The junior clerk goes and ticks off the office boy. The office boy kicks the cat. The cat steps down the street to find a smaller cat, which in its turn, the interview concluded, starts scouring the countryside for a mouse.

‘Well, that was what he resembled on being informed by me that I wanted to become his nephew by marriage. He looked and behaved like the Wreck of the Hesperus. You remember? It sailed the wintry sea, and the skipper had taken his little daughter to bear him company.’

‘Upon which you did what?’ ‘I ticked him off properly. I called him every name I could think of. In fact, I called him names that I hadn’t a notion I knew. They just seemed to come bubbling up from my subconsciousness. I was hampered a bit at first by the fact that Madeline was there, but it wasn’t long before he told her to go to bed, and then I was really able to express myself. And when I finally paused for breath, he forbade the banns and pushed off. And I rang the bell and asked Butterfield to bring me a glass of orange juice.’

The most tremendous issues hanging in the balance…Our plan of action still to be decided on…Every second of priceless importance…and he comes in here, telling us the story of his life. Spink-Bottle, you ghastly goggle-eyed piece of gorgonzola, will you hop it or will you not?’

‘It’s a long drop.’ ‘Oh, not so very, Mrs Travers.’ ‘You may break your neck.’ ‘Oh, I don’t think so, Mrs Travers.’ ‘But you may,’ argued Aunt Dahlia. ‘Come on, Bertie,’ she said, speaking with real enthusiasm, ‘hurry up. Let the man down with the sheet, can’t you? What are you waiting for?’

I don’t think I have ever assisted at a ceremony which gave such universal pleasure to all concerned. The sheet didn’t split, which pleased Gussie. Nobody came to interrupt us, which pleased me. And when I dropped the suitcase, it hit Gussie on the head, which delighted Aunt Dahlia. As for Jeeves, one could see that the faithful fellow was tickled pink at having been able to cluster round and save the young master in his hour of peril. His motto is ‘Service’.

‘Well, in the strictest confidence, sir—’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Mr Spode designs ladies’ underclothing, sir. He has a considerable talent in that direction, and has indulged it secretly for some years. He is the founder and proprietor of the emporium in Bond Street known as Eulalie Sœurs.’ ‘You don’t mean that?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Good Lord, Jeeves! No wonder he didn’t want a thing like that to come out.’ ‘No, sir. It would unquestionably jeopardize his authority over his followers.’ ‘You can’t be a successful Dictator and design women’s underclothing.’ ‘No, sir.’