it.
"Beach!"
"Sir?"
"Go to my bedroom, look in the drawer where the handkerchiefs are, and you will find a small bottle containing white tablets. Bring it to me."
"Very good, sir. Would this be the bottle to which you refer, sir?" asked Beach, returning a few minutes later.
"That's the one. Now a few necessary facts. Is the butler at the Fanshawes a pal of yours?"
"We are acquainted, sir."
"Then he won't be surprised if you suddenly pay him a call?"
"I imagine not, Mr. Galahad. I sometimes do when I find myself in the neighbourhood of Marling Hall."
"And on these occasions he sets them up?"
"Sir?"
"You drain a cup or two?"
"Oh yes, sir. I am always offered refreshment."
"Then it's all over but the cheering. You see this bottle, Beach? It contains what are known as Micky Finns. The name is familiar to you?"
"No, sir."
"They are a recognized sedative in the United States. When I last went to New York, a great friend of mine, a bartender on Eighth Avenue, happened to speak of them and was shocked to learn that I had none in my possession. They were things, he said, which nobody should be without. He gave me a few, assuring me that sooner or later they were bound to come in useful. Hitherto I have had no occasion to make use of them, but I think you will agree that now is the time for them to come to the aid of the party. You follow me, Beach?"
"No, sir."
"Come, come. You know my methods, apply them. Slip one of these into this butler's drink, and almost immediately you will see him fold up like a tired lily. Your path thus made straight, you proceed to the cellar, unleash his lordship and bring him home."
"But, Mr. Galahad!"
"Now what?"
"I hardly like---"
"Don't stand there making frivolous objections. If Clarence is not extracted from that cellar before tomorrow morning, his name will be mud. He will become a hissing and a byword."
"Yes, sir, but---"
"And don't overlook another aspect of the matter. Perform this simple task, and there will be no limit to his gratitude. Purses of gold will change hands. Camels bearing apes, ivory and peacocks, all addressed to you, will shortly be calling at the back door of Blandings Castle. You will clean up to an unimaginable extent."
It was a powerful plea. Beach's two chins, which had been waggling unhappily, ceased to waggle. A light of resolution came into his eyes. He looked like a butler who has stiffened the sinews and summoned up the blood, as recommended by Henry the Fifth.
"Very good, Mr. Galahad," he said.
Gaily resumed his crossword puzzle, more than ever convinced that the compiler of the clues was suffering from softening of the brain, and in due course heavy breathing woke him from the light doze into which he had fallen while endeavouring to read sense into '7 across' and he found that Beach was back from the front. He had the air of one who has recently passed through some great spiritual experience.
"Well?" said Gaily. "All washed up? Everything nice and smooth?"
"Yes, Mr. Galahad."
"You administered the medium dose for an adult?"
"Yes, Mr. Galahad."
"And released his lordship?"
"Yes, Mr. Galahad."
"That's my boy. Where is he?"
"Taking a bath, Mr. Galahad. He was somewhat begrimed. Would there be anything further, sir?"
"Not a thing. You can go to bed and sleep peacefully. Good night."
"Good night, sir."
It was some minutes later, while Gaily was wrestling with '12-down', that he found his privacy invaded by a caller with whom he had not expected to hobnob. It was very seldom that his sister Constance sought his society. Except for shivering austerely whenever they met, she rarely had much to do with him.
"Oh, hullo, Connie," he said. "Are you any good at crossword puzzles?"
Lady Constance did not say "To hell with crossword puzzles," but it was plain that only her breeding restrained her from doing so. She was in one of those moods of imperious wrath which so often had reduced Lord Emsworth to an apologetic jelly.
"Galahad," she
"Beach!"
"Sir?"
"Go to my bedroom, look in the drawer where the handkerchiefs are, and you will find a small bottle containing white tablets. Bring it to me."
"Very good, sir. Would this be the bottle to which you refer, sir?" asked Beach, returning a few minutes later.
"That's the one. Now a few necessary facts. Is the butler at the Fanshawes a pal of yours?"
"We are acquainted, sir."
"Then he won't be surprised if you suddenly pay him a call?"
"I imagine not, Mr. Galahad. I sometimes do when I find myself in the neighbourhood of Marling Hall."
"And on these occasions he sets them up?"
"Sir?"
"You drain a cup or two?"
"Oh yes, sir. I am always offered refreshment."
"Then it's all over but the cheering. You see this bottle, Beach? It contains what are known as Micky Finns. The name is familiar to you?"
"No, sir."
"They are a recognized sedative in the United States. When I last went to New York, a great friend of mine, a bartender on Eighth Avenue, happened to speak of them and was shocked to learn that I had none in my possession. They were things, he said, which nobody should be without. He gave me a few, assuring me that sooner or later they were bound to come in useful. Hitherto I have had no occasion to make use of them, but I think you will agree that now is the time for them to come to the aid of the party. You follow me, Beach?"
"No, sir."
"Come, come. You know my methods, apply them. Slip one of these into this butler's drink, and almost immediately you will see him fold up like a tired lily. Your path thus made straight, you proceed to the cellar, unleash his lordship and bring him home."
"But, Mr. Galahad!"
"Now what?"
"I hardly like---"
"Don't stand there making frivolous objections. If Clarence is not extracted from that cellar before tomorrow morning, his name will be mud. He will become a hissing and a byword."
"Yes, sir, but---"
"And don't overlook another aspect of the matter. Perform this simple task, and there will be no limit to his gratitude. Purses of gold will change hands. Camels bearing apes, ivory and peacocks, all addressed to you, will shortly be calling at the back door of Blandings Castle. You will clean up to an unimaginable extent."
It was a powerful plea. Beach's two chins, which had been waggling unhappily, ceased to waggle. A light of resolution came into his eyes. He looked like a butler who has stiffened the sinews and summoned up the blood, as recommended by Henry the Fifth.
"Very good, Mr. Galahad," he said.
Gaily resumed his crossword puzzle, more than ever convinced that the compiler of the clues was suffering from softening of the brain, and in due course heavy breathing woke him from the light doze into which he had fallen while endeavouring to read sense into '7 across' and he found that Beach was back from the front. He had the air of one who has recently passed through some great spiritual experience.
"Well?" said Gaily. "All washed up? Everything nice and smooth?"
"Yes, Mr. Galahad."
"You administered the medium dose for an adult?"
"Yes, Mr. Galahad."
"And released his lordship?"
"Yes, Mr. Galahad."
"That's my boy. Where is he?"
"Taking a bath, Mr. Galahad. He was somewhat begrimed. Would there be anything further, sir?"
"Not a thing. You can go to bed and sleep peacefully. Good night."
"Good night, sir."
It was some minutes later, while Gaily was wrestling with '12-down', that he found his privacy invaded by a caller with whom he had not expected to hobnob. It was very seldom that his sister Constance sought his society. Except for shivering austerely whenever they met, she rarely had much to do with him.
"Oh, hullo, Connie," he said. "Are you any good at crossword puzzles?"
Lady Constance did not say "To hell with crossword puzzles," but it was plain that only her breeding restrained her from doing so. She was in one of those moods of imperious wrath which so often had reduced Lord Emsworth to an apologetic jelly.
"Galahad," she
Similar Books
