The Gem CollectorWodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
General
The Gem Collector
Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
Humorous stories; Jewel thieves -- Fiction
"However," continued Sir Thomas, "there's room for either you or----"
"Pitt," said Jimmy. "P--i double t."
Sir Thomas bowed.
"In front with the chauffeur, if you care to take the seat."
"I'll walk," said Jimmy. "I'd rather."
"Frightfully good of you, old chap," whispered Spennie. "Sure you
don't mind? I do hate walking, and my foot's hurting fearfully."
"Which is my way?"
"Straight as you can go. You go to the----"
"Spennie," said Sir Thomas suavely, "your aunt expresses a wish to
arrive at the abbey in time for dinner. If you could manage to come to
some arrangement about that seat----"
Spennie climbed hurriedly into the automobile. The last Jimmy saw of
him was a hasty vision of him being prodded in the ribs by Lady
Blunt's parasol, while its owner said something to him which, judging
by his attitude, was not pleasant.
He watched them out of sight, and started to follow at a leisurely
pace. It certainly was an ideal afternoon for a country walk. The sun
was just hesitating whether to treat the time as afternoon or evening.
Eventually it decided that it was evening, and moderated its beams.
After London, the country was deliciously fresh and cool. Jimmy felt,
as the scent of the hedges came to him, that the only thing worth
doing in the world was to settle down somewhere with three acres and
a cow, and become pastoral.
There was a marked lack of traffic on the road. Once he met a cart,
and once a flock of sheep with a friendly dog. Sometimes a rabbit
would dash out into the road, stop to listen, and dart into the
opposite hedge, all hind legs and white scut. But except for these he
was alone in the world.
And gradually there began to be borne in upon him the conviction that
he had lost his way.
It is difficult to judge distance when one is walking, but it
certainly seemed to Jimmy that he must have covered five miles by this
time. He must have mistaken the way. He had certainly come straight.
He could not have come straighter. On the other hand, it would be
quite in keeping with the cheap substitute which served Spennie Blunt
in place of a mind that he should have forgotten to mention some
important turning. Jimmy sat down by the roadside.
As he sat, there came to him from down the road the sound of a horse's
feet, trotting. He got up. Here was somebody at last who would direct
him.
The sound came nearer. The horse turned the corner; and Jimmy saw with
surprise that it bore no rider.
"Hullo!" he said. "Accident? And, by Jove, a side saddle!"
The curious part of it was that the horse appeared in no way a wild
horse. It did not seem to be running away. It gave the impression of
being out for a little trot on its own account, a sort of equine
constitutional.
Jimmy stopped the horse, and led it back the way it had come. As he
turned the bend in the road, he saw a girl in a riding habit running
toward him. She stopped running when she caught sight of him, and
slowed down to a walk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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