Something New | Page 9

in Freddie's estimation that
position of guide, philosopher and friend which he held in the
estimation of so many young men of Freddie's stamp.
That was why, at twelve o'clock punctually on this Spring day, he
tapped with his cane on R. Jones' ground glass, and showed such
satisfaction and relief when the door was opened by the proprietor in
person.
"Well, well, well!" said R. Jones rollickingly. "Whom have we here?
The dashing bridegroom-to-be, and no other!"
R. Jones, like Lord Emsworth, was delighted that Freddie was about to
marry a nice girl with plenty of money. The sudden turning off of the
tap from which Freddie's allowance had flowed had hit him hard. He
had other sources of income, of course; but few so easy and unfailing
as Freddie had been in the days of his prosperity.
"The prodigal son, by George! Creeping back into the fold after all this
weary time! It seems years since I saw you, Freddie. The old gov'nor
put his foot down--didn't he?--and stopped the funds. Damned shame! I
take it that things have loosened up a bit since the engagement was
announced--eh?"
Freddie sat down and chewed the knob of his cane unhappily.
"Well, as a matter of fact, Dickie, old top," he said, "not so that you
could notice it, don't you know! Things are still pretty much the same. I

managed to get away from Blandings for a night, because the gov'nor
had to come to London; but I've got to go back with him on the
three-o'clock train. And, as for money, I can't get a quid out of him. As
a matter of fact, I'm in the deuce of a hole; and that's why I've come to
you."
Even fat, jovial men have their moments of depression. R. Jones' face
clouded, and jerky remarks about hardness of times and losses on the
Stock Exchange began to proceed from him. As Scotland Yard had
discovered, he lent money on occasion; but he did not lend it to youths
in Freddie's unfortunate position.
"Oh, I don't want to make a touch, you know," Freddie hastened to
explain. "It isn't that. As a matter of fact, I managed to raise five
hundred of the best this morning. That ought to be enough."
"Depends on what you want it for," said R. Jones, magically genial
once more.
The thought entered his mind, as it had so often, that the world was full
of easy marks. He wished he could meet the money-lender who had
been rash enough to advance the Honorable Freddie five hundred
pounds. Those philanthropists cross our path too seldom.
Freddie felt in his pocket, produced a cigarette case, and from it
extracted a newspaper clipping.
"Did you read about poor old Percy in the papers? The case, you
know?"
"Percy?"
"Lord Stockheath, you know."
"Oh, the Stockheath breach-of-promise case? I did more than that. I
was in court all three days." R. Jones emitted a cozy chuckle. "Is he a
pal of yours? A cousin, eh? I wish you had seen him in the witness box,
with Jellicoe-Smith cross-examining him! The funniest thing I ever

heard! And his letters to the girl! They read them out in court; and of
all--"
"Don't, old man! Dickie, old top--please! I know all about it. I read the
reports. They made poor old Percy look like an absolute ass."
"Well, Nature had done that already; but I'm bound to say they
improved on Nature's work. I should think your Cousin Percy must
have felt like a plucked chicken."
A spasm of pain passed over the Honorable Freddie's vacant face. He
wriggled in his chair.
"Dickie, old man, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. It makes me feel
ill."
"Why, is he such a pal of yours as all that?"
"It's not that. It's--the fact is, Dickie, old top, I'm in exactly the same
bally hole as poor old Percy was, myself!"
"What! You have been sued for breach of promise?"
"Not absolutely that--yet. Look here; I'll tell you the whole thing. Do
you remember a show at the Piccadilly about a year ago called "The
Baby Doll"? There was a girl in the chorus."
"Several--I remember noticing."
"No; I mean one particular girl--a girl called Joan Valentine. The rotten
part is that I never met her."
"Pull yourself together, Freddie. What exactly is the trouble?"
"Well--don't you see?--I used to go to the show every other night, and I
fell frightfully in love with this girl--"
"Without having met her?"

"Yes. You see, I was rather an ass in those days."
"No, no!" said R. Jones handsomely.
"I must have been or I shouldn't have been such an ass, don't you know!
Well, as I was saying, I used to write this girl letters,