Humorous stories, English; Men -- Societies and clubs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
‘Of course, in that way he put himself on velvet. Whether I decided to
win my bet or to lose it, Jimmy had to make one sovereign out of me.
Didn’t affect me at all, for according to Leonard I’d got to win my
bet and lose a pound by it, which I did. The only person hit was the
crossing-sweeper up the street, who would otherwise have made two
quid. Of course, what I ought to have done was to have handed Jimmy
over to the police for begging—wish I’d thought of it.
‘Well, I negotiated the first half of the problem, but the second half
beat me. I’m inclined to think the sting of the beast is in its tail.
It takes two people to make a bet. I’m not a poet or any sort of
imaginative chap, but I could think of a bet which for a dead
certainty it would pay me to lose. I couldn’t think of anybody, even
including that rotter Jimmy, who would be fool enough to take it. You
must try somebody else, Mr Chairman.’
‘Major Byles?’ the chairman suggested.
‘As a head-waiter,’ said the Major, ‘I’ve got nothing against Leonard.
As a setter of problems he’s given general satisfaction, but this time
I should like to back my bill to the effect that he has mixed up too
much arithmetic with the sport. I’ve spent a month on this
win-and-lose business, all the time with the feeling that a boy fresh
from school would work out the whole thing on the back of an envelope
in ten minutes, and I’ve done nothing. I spent the first fortnight at
home, and at the end of it I had contracted insomnia, headache, and
what you might call pardonable irritability. At the end of that time
my wife said that of course she had noticed the change, and that I
seemed to be doing sums all day, and that if we were ruined I had
better say so and she would face it bravely. I reassured her and came
to town on important business. I used tons of the club notepaper for
my calculations, put an undue strain on the club wastepaper-baskets,
quarrelled with two of my best friends, was sarcastic in addressing
club servants, and am expecting a letter from the committee to ask for
my resignation. The amazing thing is that all the time I have been on
the very point of getting the solution. In my opinion it’s the most
horribly worrying thing that Leonard has ever given us.’
‘Well,’ said the chairman, ‘artists are not generally supposed to be
particularly strong at arithmetic, but I’ll ask Mr Wildersley what
he’s done about it.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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