“Half a jiffy!” he entreated5. “I say, don’t go in off the deep end for just a second. I can explain.”
Mr. Keeble’s feelings expressed themselves in a loud snort.
“Explain!”
“Well, I can. Whole trouble was, I started at the wrong end. Shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. The fact is, Uncle Joe, I’ve got a scheme. I give you my word that, if you’ll only put off having apoplexy for about three minutes,” said Freddie, scanning his fermenting6 relative with some anxiety, “I can shove you on to a good thing. Honestly I can. And all I say is, if this scheme I’m talking about is worth a thousand quid to you, will you slip it across? I’m game to spill it and leave it to your honesty to cash up if the thing looks good to you.”
“A thousand pounds!”
“Nice round sum,” urged Freddie ingratiatingly.
“Why,” demanded Mr. Keeble, now somewhat recovered, “do you want a thousand pounds?”
“Well, who doesn’t, if it comes to that?” said Freddie. “But I don’t mind telling you my special[p. 27] reason for wanting it at just this moment, if you’ll swear to keep it under your hat as far as the guv’nor is concerned.”
“If you mean that you wish me not to repeat to your father anything you may tell me in confidence, naturally I should not dream of doing such a thing.”
Freddie looked puzzled. His was no lightning brain.
“Can’t quite work that out,” he confessed. “Do you mean you will tell him or you won’t?”
“I will not tell him.”
“Good old Uncle Joe!” said Freddie, relieved. “A topper! I’ve always said so. Well, look here, you know all the trouble there’s been about my dropping a bit on the races lately?”
“I do.”
“Between ourselves, I dropped about five hundred of the best. And I just want to ask you one simple question. Why did I drop it?”
“Well, yes,” agreed Freddie, having considered the point, “you might put it that way, of course. But why was I an ass?”
“Good God!” exclaimed the exasperated8 Mr. Keeble. “Am I a psycho-analyst?”
“I mean to say, if you come right down to it, I lost all that stuff simply because I was on the wrong side of the fence. It’s a mug’s game betting on horses. The only way to make money is to be a bookie, and that’s what I’m going to do if you’ll part with that thousand. Pal9 of mine, who was up at Oxford10 with me, is in a bookie’s office, and they’re game to take me in too if I can put up a thousand quid. Only I must let them know quick, because the offer’s not going to be open for ever. You’ve no notion what a deuce of a lot of competition there is for that sort of job.”
[p. 28]Mr. Keeble, who had been endeavouring with some energy to get a word in during this harangue11, now contrived12 to speak.
“And do you seriously suppose that I would . . . But what’s the use of wasting time talking? I have no means of laying my hands on the sum you mention. If I had,” said Mr. Keeble wistfully. “If I had . . .” And his eye strayed to the letter on the desk, the letter which had got as far as “My dear Phyllis” and stuck there.
Freddie gazed upon him with cordial sympathy.
“Oh, I know how you’re situated13, Uncle Joe, and I’m dashed sorry for you. I mean, Aunt Constance and all that.”
“What!” Irksome as Mr. Keeble sometimes found the peculiar14 condition of his financial arrangements, he had always had the consolation15 of supposing that they were a secret between his wife and himself. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I know that Aunt Constance keeps an eye on the doubloons and checks the outgoings pretty narrowly. And I think it’s a dashed shame that she won’t unbuckle to help poor old Phyllis. A girl,” said Freddie, “I always liked. Bally shame! Why the dickens shouldn’t she marry that fellow Jackson? I mean, love’s love,” said Freddie, who felt strongly on this point.
“Perhaps I ought to explain,” said Freddie, “that I was having a quiet after-breakfast smoke outside the window there and heard the whole thing. I mean, you and Aunt Constance going to the mat about poor old Phyllis and you trying to bite the guv’nor’s ear and so forth17.”
Mr. Keeble bubbled for awhile.
“You—you listened!” he managed to ejaculate at length.
[p. 29]“And dashed lucky for you,” said Freddie with a cordiality unimpaired by the frankly18 unfriendly stare under which a nicer-minded youth would have withered19; “dashed lucky for you that I did. Because I’ve got a scheme.”
Mr. Keeble’s estimate of his young relative’s sagacity was not a high one, and it is doubtful whether, had the latter caught him in a less despondent20 mood, he would have wasted time in inquiring into the details of this scheme, the mention of which had been playing in and out of Freddie’s conversation like a will-o’-the-wisp. But such was his reduced state at the moment that a reluctant gleam of hope crept into his troubled eye.
“A scheme? Do you mean a scheme to help me out of—out of my difficulty?”
“Absolutely! You want the best seats, we have ’em. I mean,” Freddie went on in interpretation21 of these peculiar words, “you want three thousand quid, and I can show you how to get it.”
“Then kindly22 do so,” said Mr. Keeble; and, having opened the door, peered cautiously out, and closed it again, he crossed the room and shut the window.
“Makes it a bit fuggy, but perhaps you’re right,” said Freddie, eyeing these man?uvres. “Well, it’s like this, Uncle Joe. You remember what you were saying to Aunt Constance about some bird being apt to sneak23 up and pinch her necklace?”
“I do.”
“Well, why not?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why don’t you?”
Mr. Keeble regarded his nephew with unconcealed astonishment24. He had been prepared for imbecility, but this exceeded his expectations.
“Steal my wife’s necklace!”
[p. 30]“That’s it. Frightfully quick you are, getting on to an idea. Pinch Aunt Connie’s necklace. For, mark you,” continued Freddie, so far forgetting the respect due from a nephew as to tap his uncle sharply on the chest, “if a husband pinches anything from a wife, it isn’t stealing. That’s law. I found that out from a movie I saw in town.”
The Hon. Freddie was a great student of the movies. He could tell a super-film from a super-super-film at a glance, and what he did not know about erring25 wives and licentious26 clubmen could have been written in a sub-title.
“It wouldn’t be hard for you to get hold of it. And once you’d got it everybody would be happy. I mean, all you’d have to do would be to draw a cheque to pay for another one for Aunt Connie—which would make her perfectly28 chirpy, as well as putting you one up, if you follow me. Then you would have the other necklace, the pinched one, to play about with. See what I mean? You could sell it privily29 and by stealth, ship Phyllis her three thousand, push across my thousand, and what was left over would be a nice little private account for you to tuck away somewhere where Aunt Connie wouldn’t know anything about it. And a dashed useful thing,” said Freddie, “to have up your sleeve in case of emergencies.”
“Are you . . . ?”
Mr. Keeble was on the point of repeating his previous remark when suddenly there came the realisation that, despite all preconceived opinions, the young man was anything but insane. The scheme, at which he had been prepared to scoff30, was so brilliant, yet simple, that it seemed almost incredible that its sponsor could have worked it out for himself.
[p. 31]“Not my own,” said Freddie modestly, as if in answer to the thought. “Saw much the same thing in a movie once. Only there the fellow, if I remember, wanted to do down an insurance company, and it wasn’t a necklace that he pinched but bonds. Still, the principle’s the same. Well, how do we go, Uncle Joe? How about it? Is that worth a thousand quid or not?”
Even though he had seen in person to the closing of the door and the window, Mr. Keeble could not refrain from a conspirator-like glance about him. They had been speaking with lowered voices, but now words came from him in an almost inaudible whisper.
“Could it really be done? Is it feasible?”
“Feasible? Why, dash it, what the dickens is there to stop you? You could do it in a second. And the beauty of the whole thing is that, if you were copped, nobody could say a word, because husband pinching from wife isn’t stealing. Law.”
The statement that in the circumstances indicated nobody could say a word seemed to Mr. Keeble so at variance31 with the facts that he was compelled to challenge it.
“Your aunt would have a good deal to say,” he observed ruefully.
“Eh? Oh, yes, I see what you mean. Well, you would have to risk that. After all, the chances would be dead against her finding out.”
“But she might.”
“Oh, well, if you put it like that, I suppose she might.”
“Freddie, my boy,” said Mr. Keeble weakly, “I daren’t do it!”
The vision of his thousand pounds slipping from his grasp so wrought1 upon Freddie that he expressed himself in a manner far from fitting in one of his years towards an older man.
[p. 32]“Oh, I say, don’t be such a rabbit!”
Mr. Keeble shook his head.
“No,” he repeated, “I daren’t.”
It might have seemed that the negotiations32 had reached a deadlock33, but Freddie, with a thousand pounds in sight, was in far too stimulated34 a condition to permit so tame an ending to such a promising35 plot. As he stood there, chafing36 at his uncle’s pusillanimity37, an idea was vouchsafed38 to him.
“By Jove! I’ll tell you what!” he cried.
“Not so loud!” moaned the apprehensive39 Mr. Keeble. “Not so loud!”
“I’ll tell you what,” repeated Freddie in a hoarse40 whisper. “How would it be if I did the pinching?”
“What!”
“How would it . . .”
“Would you?” Hope, which had vanished from Mr. Keeble’s face, came flooding back. “My boy, would you really?”
“For a thousand quid you bet I would.”
Mr. Keeble clutched at his young relative’s hand and gripped it feverishly41.
“Freddie,” he said, “the moment you place that necklace in my hands, I will give you not a thousand but two thousand pounds.”
Mr. Keeble mopped at his forehead.
“You think you can manage it?”
“Manage it?” Freddie laughed a light laugh. “Just watch me!”
Mr. Keeble grasped his hand again with the utmost warmth.
“I must go out and get some air,” he said. “I’m all upset. May I really leave this matter to you, Freddie?”
[p. 33]
“Rather!”
“Good! Then to-night I will write to Phyllis and say that I may be able to do what she wishes.”
“Don’t say ‘may,’” cried Freddie buoyantly. “The word is ‘will.’ Bally will! What ho!”
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1
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fermenting
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| v.（使）发酵( ferment的现在分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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13
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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14
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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15
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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16
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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19
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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licentious
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| adj.放纵的，淫乱的 | |
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27
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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29
privily
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| adv.暗中，秘密地 | |
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30
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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31
variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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deadlock
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| n.僵局，僵持 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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36
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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pusillanimity
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| n.无气力，胆怯 | |
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38
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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