Something New by P. G. Wodehouse


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Page 70

He did not see Baxter. He was not even thinking of Baxter; but
Baxter was on the alert. Baxter was on the warpath. Baxter knew!



CHAPTER VI

Among the compensations of advancing age is a wholesome
pessimism, which, though it takes the fine edge off of whatever
triumphs may come to us, has the admirable effect of preventing
Fate from working off on us any of those gold bricks, coins with
strings attached, and unhatched chickens, at which ardent youth
snatches with such enthusiasm, to its subsequent disappointment.
As we emerge from the twenties we grow into a habit of mind that
looks askance at Fate bearing gifts. We miss, perhaps, the
occasional prize, but we also avoid leaping light-heartedly into
traps.

Ashe Marson had yet to reach the age of tranquil mistrust; and
when Fate seemed to be treating him kindly he was still young
enough to accept such kindnesses on their face value and rejoice
at them.

As he sat on his bed at the end of his first night in Castle
Blandings, he was conscious to a remarkable degree that Fortune
was treating him well. He had survived--not merely without
discredit, but with positive triumph--the initiatory plunge into
the etiquette maelstrom of life below stairs. So far from doing
the wrong thing and drawing down on himself the just scorn of the
steward's room, he had been the life and soul of the party. Even
if to-morrow, in an absent-minded fit, he should anticipate the
groom of the chambers in the march to the table, he would be
forgiven; for the humorist has his privileges.

So much for that. But that was only a part of Fortune's
kindnesses. To have discovered on the first day of their
association the correct method of handling and reducing to
subjection his irascible employer was an even greater boon. A
prolonged association with Mr. Peters on the lines in which their
acquaintance had begun would have been extremely trying. Now, by
virtue of a fortunate stand at the outset, he had spiked the
millionaire's guns.

Thirdly, and most important of all, he had not only made himself
familiar with the locality and surroundings of the scarab, but he
had seen, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the removal of it
and the earning of the five thousand dollars would be the
simplest possible task. Already he was spending the money in his
mind. And to such lengths had optimism led him that, as he sat on
his bed reviewing the events of the day, his only doubt was
whether to get the scarab at once or to let it remain where it
was until he had the opportunity of doing Mr. Peters' interior
good on the lines he had mapped out in their conversation; for,
of course, directly he had restored the scarab to its rightful
owner and pocketed the reward, his position as healer and trainer
to the millionaire would cease automatically.

He was sorry for that, because it troubled him to think that a
sick man would not be made well; but, on the whole, looking at it
from every aspect, it would be best to get the scarab as soon as
possible and leave Mr. Peters' digestion to look after itself.
Being twenty-six and an optimist, he had no suspicion that Fate
might be playing with him; that Fate might have unpleasant
surprises in store; that Fate even now was preparing to smite him
in his hour of joy with that powerful weapon, the Efficient
Baxter.

He looked at his watch. It was five minutes to one. He had no
idea whether they kept early hours at Blandings Castle or not,
but he deemed it prudent to give the household another hour in
which to settle down. After which he would just trot down and
collect the scarab.

The novel he had brought down with him from London fortunately
proved interesting. Two o'clock came before he was ready for it.
He slipped the book into his pocket and opened the door.

All was still--still and uncommonly dark. Along the corridor on
which his room was situated the snores of sleeping domestics
exploded, growled and twittered in the air. Every menial on the
list seemed to be snoring, some in one key, some in another, some
defiantly, some plaintively; but the main fact was that they were
all snoring somehow, thus intimating that, so far as this side of
the house was concerned, the coast might be considered clear and
interruption of his plans a negligible risk.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 21st Dec 2025, 22:49