Ice in the Bedroom by P. G. Wodehouse Page A

it.'
    ‘I am sorry.'
    'Hunted everywhere for it, and then suddenly remembered I’d had it last in the bedroom down here when I was dressing. Put it down somewheres and forgot about it.'
    'These lapses of memory frequently occur.'
    'Yay. Well, do you think whoever's got the house now'
    'Miss Leila Yorke, the novelist,' said Mr. Cornelius reverently.
    'No, really? Is that so? I'm one of her greatest admirers.'
    'I, also.'
    'Swell stuff she dishes out. Knocks the bejeesus out of all competitors.'
    'Indeed yes,' said Mr. Cornelius, though he would not have put it in quite that way.
    'Well, do you think she would mind if I just popped up to the bedroom and had a look around?'
    'I am sure she would readily give her consent, if she were here, but she has left for London. That, I may say, is the reason for my presence. She asked me to keep an eye on the house. It seems that Miss Yorke received a visit yesterday from a most suspicious character, who tried to insinuate himself into Castlewood on some pretext or other, with the intention, no doubt of returning later and burgling the place.'
    'Well, of all the ideas! Sounds cuckoo to me.'
    'I assure you that sort of thing is frequently done. I was speaking of this man to Mr. Widgeon's cousin, who is in the police and who had had the story from Mr. Widgeon, who had had it from Miss Foster, who had had it from Miss Yorke, and he told me it was a well-known practice of the criminal classes. Casing the joint, it is called, he says. He expressed some chagrin that the exigencies of walking his beat would take him away from Castlewood so that, when the man returned, he would not be there to make what he described as a pinch. He is a most zealous officer.’
    'I'll bet he is. We want more of his sort around.'
    'Very true.'
    'Well, anyway, I'm not casing any joints. All I want is to mosey up to that bedroom and see if my pig's there. I'll prob'ly find I dropped it behind the dressing table or something. Miss Yorke won't mind me doing that?'
    'I feel convinced that she would have no objection, but what you suggest is, I fear, impracticable, for before leaving she locked her bedroom door.'
    'What!'
    'On my suggestion,' said Mr. Cornelius rather smugly.
    Dolly stood silent. Six separate blistering observations had darted into her mind like red-hot bullets, but she remembered in time that she was a lady and did not utter them. Contenting herself with a mere 'Oh, is that so? Well, pip-pip,' she turned and walked away, giving no indication of the vultures that gnawed at her bosom.
    At the corner of the road that led to the station she caught a Number Three Omnibus, and this in due season deposited her in Piccadilly Circus. Partly because the day was so fine and partly because she hoped with exercise to still the ferment in her blood, she walked along Piccadilly and turned up Bond Street, and it was as she did this that out of the corner of her eye she observed a well-dressed man behind her.
    It has already been stated that the sight of a well-dressed man in her rear often called to Dolly to put into effect the technique which years of practice had bestowed on her. A moment later, she was swooning in his arms, and a moment after that withdrawing the hand that had crept toward his pocket. She had seen his face and knew that there would be little in that pocket to reward the prospector.
    'Why, hello, Mr. Widgeon,' she said.
     
     

 
    11
     
    UNTIL the moment of impact, Freddie had been in the best of spirits, feeling, like the gentleman in Oklahoma, that everything was coming his way. As he started to walk up Bond Street, he was not actually singing 'Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!', but it would not have required a great deal of encouragement to induce him to do so. Few things so brace up a young man in Springtime as a reconciliation with the girl he loves, and the thought that he and Sally, so recently a couple of sundered hearts, were once more on Romeo and Juliet terms would alone have been enough