Pelham Wodehouse - Love Me, Love My Dog
"You didn't do it," he said.
"The 'onorarium which your lordship offered," said the butler, deprecatingly, "was only six postage-stamps and a 'arf share in a white rat. I did not consider it hadequate in view of the undoubted riskiness of the proposed act."
"You'd have done it if I had offered more?"
"That, your lordship, it is impossible to say after this lapse of time."
The Earl of Stockleigh had at one time had the idea of attaching his son and heir to the Diplomatic Service. Lord Bertie's next speech may supply some clue to his lordship's reasons for abandoning that scheme.
"Keggs," he said, leaning forward, "what will you take to poison that dashed dog, Reuben?"
The butler raised a hand in pained protest.
"Your lordship, really!"
"Ten pounds."
"Your lordship!"
"Twenty."
Keggs seemed to waver.
"I'll give you twenty-five," said his lordship.
Before the butler could reply, the door opened and Mr. Keith entered.
"The morning papers, sir," said Keggs deferentially, and passed out of the room.
It was a few days later that he presented himself again before Lord Bertie. His lordship was in low spirits. He was not in love with Aline--he would have considered it rather bad form to be in love with anyone--but he found her possessed of attractions and wealth sufficient to qualify her for an alliance with a Stockleigh; and he had concentrated his mind, so far as it was capable of being concentrated on anything, upon bringing the alliance about. And up to a point everything had seemed to progress admirably. Then Reuben had come to the fore and wrecked the campaign. How could a fellow keep up an easy flow of conversation with one eye on a bally savage bulldog all the time? And the brute never left her. Wherever she went he went, lumbering along like a cart-horse with a nasty look out of the corner of his eye whenever a fellow came up and tried to say a word. The whole bally situation, decided his lordship, was getting dashed impossible, and if something didn't happen to change it he would get out of the place and go off to Paris.
"Might I 'ave a word, your lordship?" said Keggs.
"Well?"
"I 'ave been thinking over your lordship's offer----"
"Yes?" said Lord Bertie, eagerly.
"The method of eliminating the animal which your lordship indicated would 'ardly do, I fear. Awkward questions would be asked, and a public hexpose would inevitably ensue. If your lordship would permit me to make an alternative suggestion?"
"Well?"
"I was reading a article in the newspaper, your lordship, on 'ow sparrows and such is painted up to represent bullfinches, canaries, and so on, and I says to myself, 'Why not?' "
"Why not what?" demanded his lordship, irritably.
"Why not substitoot for Reuben another dog painted to appear identically similar?"
His lordship looked fixedly at him.
"Do you know what you are, Keggs?" he said. "A blithering idiot."
"Your lordship always 'ad a spirited manner of speech," said Keggs, deprecatingly.
"You and your sparrows and canaries and bullfinches! Do you think Reuben's a bally bird?"
"I see no flaw in the idea, your lordship. 'Orses and such is frequently treated that way. I was talking that matter over with Roberts, the chauffeur--"
"What! And how many more people have you discussed my affairs with?"
"Only Roberts, your lordship. It was unavoidable. Roberts being the owner of a dog which could be painted up to be the living spit of Reuben, your lordship."
"What!"
"For a hadequate 'onorarium, your lordship."
Lord Bertie's manner became excited.
"Where is he? No, not Roberts. I don't want to see Roberts. This dog, I mean."
"At Robert's cottage, your lordship. 'E is a great favourite with the children."
"Is he, by Jove? Good-tempered animal, eh?"
"Extremely so, your lordship."
"Show him to me, then. There might be something in this."
Keggs coughed.
"And the 'onorarium, your lordship?"
"Oh, that. Oh, I'll remember Roberts all right."
"I was not thinking exclusively of Roberts, your lordship."
"Oh, I'll remember you, too."
"Thank you, your lordship. About 'ow extensively, your lordship?"
"I'll see that you get a couple of pounds apiece. That'll be all right."
"I fear," said Keggs, shaking his head, "hit could 'ardly be done hat the price. In a hearlier conversation your lordship mentioned twenty- five. That, 'owever, was for the comparatively simple task of poisoning the animal. The substitootion would be more expensive, owing to the nature of the process. I was thinking of a 'undred, your lordship."
"Don't be a fool, Keggs."
"I fear Roberts could not be induced to do it for less, the process being expensive."
"A hundred! No, it's dashed absurd. I won't do it."
"Very good, your lordship."
"Here stop. Don't go. Look here, I'll give you fifty."
"I fear it could not be done, your lordship."
"Sixty guineas. Seven----. Here, don't go. Oh, very well then, a hundred."
"I thank you, your lordship. If your lordship will be at the bend in the road in 'alf an hour's time the animal will be there."
Lord Bertie was a little early at the tryst, but he had not been waiting long when a party of three turned the corner. One of the party was Keggs. The second he recognized as Roberts the chauffeur, a wooden-faced man who wore a permanent air of melancholy. The third, who waddled along at the end of a rope, was a dingy white bulldog.
The party came to a halt before him. Roberts touched his hat, and eyed the dog sadly. The dog sniffed at his lordship with apparently amiability. Keggs did the honours.
"The animal, your lordship."
Lord Bertie put up his glass and inspected the exhibit.
"Eh?"
"The animal I mentioned, your lordship."
"That?" said Lord Bertie. "Why, dash it all, that bally milk-coloured brute isn't like Reuben."
"Not at present, your lordship. But your lordship is forgetting the process. In two days Roberts will be able to treat that hanimal so that Reuben's own mother would be deceived."
Lord Bertie looked with interest at the artist. "No, really? Is that a fact?"
Roberts, an economist in speech, looked up, touched his hat again in a furtive manner, and fixed his eyes once more on the dog.
"Well, he seems friendly all right," said Lord Bertie, as the animal endeavoured to lick his hand.
"He 'as the most placid disposition," Keggs assured him. "A great improvement on Reuben, your lordship. Well worth the 'undred."
Hope fought with scepticism in Lord Bertie's mind during the days that followed. There were moments when the thing seemed possible, and moments when it seemed absurd. Of course, Keggs was a silly old fool, but, on the other hand, there were possibilities about Roberts. The chauffeur had struck his lordship as a capable-looking sort of man. And, after all, there were cases on record of horses being painted and substituted for others, so why not bulldogs?
It was absolutely necessary that some step be taken shortly. His jerky manner and abrupt retreats were getting on Aline's nerves. He could see that.
"Look here, Keggs," he said, on the third morning. "I can't wait much longer. If you don't bring on that dog soon, the whole thing's off."
"We 'ave already effected the change, your lordship. The delay 'as been due to the fact that Roberts wished to make an especial good job of it."
"And has he?"
"That I will leave your lordship to decide. The hanimal is now asleep on the terrace."
He led the way to where a brown heap lay in the sunshine. His lordship followed with some diffidence.
"An extraordinary likeness, your lordship."
Lord Bertie put up his eyeglass.
"By Jove, I should say it was. Do you mean to tell me----?"
"If your lordship will step forward and prod the animal, your lordship will be convinced by the amiability----"
"Prod him yourself," said Lord Bertie.
Keggs did so. The slumberer raised his head dreamily, and rolled over again. Lord Bertie was satisfied. He came forward and took a prod. With Reuben this would have led to a scene of extreme activity. The excellent substitute merely flopped back on his side again.
"By Jove! it's wonderful," he said.
"And if your lordship 'appens to have a cheque-book handy?"
"You're in a bally hurry," said Lord Bertie, complainingly.
"It's Roberts, your lordship," sighed Keggs. " 'E is a poor man, and 'e 'as a wife and children."
After lunch Aline was plaintive.
"I can't make out," she said, "what is the matter with Reuben. He doesn't seem to care for me any more. He won't come when I call. He wants to sleep all the time."
"Oh, he'll soon get used--I mean," added Lord Bertie, hastily, "he'll soon get over it. I expect he has been in the sun too much, don't you know?"
The substitute's lethargy continued during the rest of that day, but on the following morning after breakfast Lord Bertie observed him rolling along the terrace behind Aline. Presently the two settled themselves under the big sycamore tree, and his lordship sallied forth.
"And how is Reuben this morning?" he inquired, brightly.
"He's not very well, poor old thing," said Aline. "He was rather sick in the night."
"No, by Jove: really?"
"I think he must have eaten something that disagreed with him. That's why he was so quiet yesterday."
Lord Bertie glanced sympathetically at the brown mass on the ground. How wary one should be of judging by looks. To all appearances that dog there was Reuben, his foe. But beneath that Reuben-like exterior beat the gentle heart of the milk-coloured substitute, with whom he was on terms of easy friendship.
"Poor old fellow!" he said.
He bent down and gave the animal's ear a playful tweak. . . .
It was a simple action, an action from which one would hardly have expected anything in the nature of interesting by-products--yet it undoubtedly produced them. What exactly occurred Lord Bertie could not have said. There was a sort of explosion. The sleeping dog seemed to uncurl like a released watch-spring, and the air became full of a curious blend of sniff and snarl. An eminent general has said that the science of war lies in knowing when to fall back. Something, some instinct, seemed to tell Lord Bertie that the moment was ripe for falling back, and he did so over a chair.
He rose, with a scraped shin, to find Aline holding the dog's collar with both hands, her face flushed with the combination of wrath and muscular effort.
"What did you do that for?" she demanded fiercely. "I told you he was ill."
"I--I--I----" stammered his lordship.
The thing had been so sudden. The animal had gone off like a bomb.
"I--I----"
"Run!" she panted. "I can't hold him. Run! /Run!/"
Lord Bertie cast one look at the bristling animal, and decided that her advice was good and should be followed.
He had reached the road before he slowed to a walk. Then, feeling safe, he was about to light a cigarette, when the match fell from his fingers and he stood gaping.
Round the bend of the road, from the direction of Robert's cottage, there had appeared a large bulldog of a dingy-white colour.
Keggs, swathed in a green baize apron, was meditatively polishing Mr. Keith's silver in his own private pantry, humming an air as he worked, when Frederick, the footman, came to him. Frederick was a supercilious young man, with long legs and a receding chin.
"Polishing the silver, old top?" he inquired, genially.
"In answer to your question, Frederick," replied Keggs, with dignity, "I ham polishing the silver."
Frederick, in his opinion, needed to be kept in his place.
"His nibs is asking for you," said Frederick.
"You allude to----"
"Bertie," said Frederick, definitely.
"If," said Keggs, "Lord 'Erbert Fendall desires to see me, I will go to 'im at once."
"Another bit of luck for 'Erbert," said Frederick, cordially. " 'E's in the smoking-room."
"Your lordship wished to see me?"
Lord Bertie, who was rubbing his shin reflectively with his back to the door, wheeled, and glared balefully at the saintly figure before him.
"You bally old swindler!" he cried.
"Your lordship!"
"Do you know I could have you sent to prison for obtaining money under false pretences?"
"Your lordship!"
"Don't stand there pretending not to know what I mean."
"If your lordship would explain, I 'ave no doubt--"
"Explain! By Jove, I'll explain, if that's what you want. What do you mean by doping Reuben and palming him off on me as another dog? Is that plain enough?"
"The words is intelligible," conceded Keggs, "but the accusation is overwhelming."
"You bally old rogue!"
