Though I realized by this time that all this was leading up to draw money from me, my heart warmed to the poor guy. Indeed, I gazed at him with interest and admiration. Never before had I encountered such a curate. He certainly appeared to be a real daredevil; and I wished he had shown me this side of his character before.

“That Colonel Musgrave,” he went on, “is not a man who would be likely to overlook the matter. He is a hard man. He will expose me to the priest. The priest is a hard man, too. In short, Mr Wooster, if Colonel Musgrave presents that cheque, I shall be ruined. And he leaves for England tonight.”

The girl, who had been standing by biting her handkerchief, now wept.

“Mr Wooster,” she cried, “won’t you, won’t you help us? Oh, do say you will! We must have the money to get back the cheque from Colonel Musgrave before nine o’clock—he leaves on the nine-twenty. I remembered how kind you had always been. Mr Wooster, will you lend Sidney the money and take these as security?”

And before I knew what she was doing she had dived into her bag, taken a case, and opened it.

“My pearls,” she said. “I don’t know what they are worth—they were a present from my poor father—”

“Now, alas, no more—” said her the brother.

“But I know they must be worth ever so much more than the amount we want.”

It was embarrassing. It made me feel like a pawnbroker.

“No, I say, really,” I protested. “There’s no need of any security, you know. Only too glad to let you have the money. I’ve got it on me, as a matter of fact. Rather luckily drew some this morning.”

And I took the money out of my pocket and laid it on the table. The brother shook his head.

“Mr Wooster,” he said, “we appreciate your generosity, your confidence in us, but we cannot permit this.”

“What Sidney means,” said the girl, “is that you really don’t know anything about us. You mustn’t risk lending all this money without any security at all to two people who, after all, are almost strangers. If I hadn’t thought that you would treat it like some business I would never have dared to come to you.”

“The idea of—er—pledging the pearls at the local pawnbroker shop was, you will readily understand, repugnant to us,” said the brother.

“If you will just give me a receipt, as a matter of form^[70]—”

“All right!”

I wrote out the receipt and handed it over.

“Here you are,” I said.

The girl took the piece of paper, put it in her bag, grabbed the money and slipped it to brother Sidney, and then, before I knew what was happening, she had darted at me, kissed me, and legged it from the room.

I’m bound to say this surprised me a lot. So sudden and unexpected. I mean, a girl like that. Always been quiet and demure. Through a sort of mist I could see that Jeeves had appeared and was helping the brother on with his coat. His coat was more like a sack than anything else. Then the brother came up to me and grasped my hand.

“I cannot thank you sufficiently, Mr Wooster!”

“Oh, not at all.”

“You have saved my good name. Good name in man or woman,” he said, “is the immediate jewel of their souls. Who steals my purse steals trash. It was mine, it was his, and has been slave to thousands. But he that steals my good name robs me and makes me poor indeed. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Good night, Mr Wooster.”

“Good night, old man,” I said.

I blinked at Jeeves as the door shut.

“Rather a sad affair, Jeeves,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Luckily I happened to have all that money.”

“Well—er—yes, sir.”

“You speak as though you didn’t think much of it.”

“I can’t criticize your actions, sir, but I can say that I think you behaved a little rashly.”

“What, lending that money?”

“Yes, sir. These fashionable French watering places^[71] are famous for dishonest characters.”

This was incredible.

“Now look here, Jeeves,” I said. “I can stand a lot but now you are going to slander that holy man!”

“Perhaps I am over-suspicious, sir. But I have seen a great deal of these resorts. When I was in the employment of Lord Frederick Ranelagh^[72], shortly before I entered your service, his lordship was swindled by a criminal known as Soapy Sid^[73], who was acting us in Monte Carlo with his helper. His helper was a nice girl. I have never forgotten the circumstances.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, Jeeves,” I said, coldly, “but you’re talking nonsense. How could I be cheated? They’ve left me the pearls, haven’t they? Very well, then, think before you speak. You had better have these things hidden in the hotel safe.” I picked up the case and opened it.

“Oh, Lord!”

The case was empty!

“Oh, Jesus!” I said, staring. “So, I’ve been cheated?”

“Precisely, sir. It was in exactly the same manner that Lord Frederick was swindled. While the girl was gratefully embracing his lordship, Soapy Sid substituted a duplicate case for the one containing the pearls and went off with the jewels, the money and the receipt. Later he subsequently demanded from his lordship the return of the pearls, and his lordship was obliged to pay a heavy sum^[74] in compensation. It is a simple but effective ruse.”

I felt as if the floor was moving.

“Soapy Sid? Sid! Sidney! Brother Sidney! Why, Jeeves, do you think that parson was Soapy Sid?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But it seems extraordinary. Why, his collar buttoned at the back—I mean, he would have deceived a bishop. Do you really think he was Soapy Sid?”

“Yes, sir. I recognized him directly he came into the room.”

I stared at him.

“You recognized him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, dash it all^[75],” I said. “I think you might have told me.”

“I thought it would be enough if I merely extracted the case from the man’s pocket as I assisted him with his coat, sir. Here it is.”

He laid another case on the table beside the first one, and they were alike. I opened it, and there were the good old pearls, smiling up at me. I gazed feebly at Jeeves.

“Jeeves,” I said. “You’re an absolute genius!”

“Yes, sir.”

Thanks to Jeeves I did not lose several thousand pounds.

“It looks to me as though you have saved me. I mean, even that old Sid is hardly likely to have the nerve to come back and retrieve these pearls.”

“I should imagine not, sir.”

“Well, then—Oh, I say, you don’t think they are false?”

“No, sir. These are genuine pearls and extremely valuable.”

“Well, then, dash it, I’ve lost nothing. All right, Jeeves. I’ve paid a hundred pounds but I’ve got a good string of pearls. Am I right or wrong?”

“Hardly that, sir. I think that you will have to restore the pearls.”

“What! To Sid?”

“No, sir. To their rightful owner.”

“But who is their rightful owner?”

“Mrs Gregson, sir.”

“What! How do you know?”

“It was all over the hotel an hour ago that Mrs Gregson’s pearls had disappeared. I was speaking to Mrs Gregson’s maid shortly before you came in and she informed me that the manager of the hotel is now in Mrs Gregson’s suite.”

“And having a bad time, right?”

“I can imagine, sir.”

The situation was beginning to be clear.

“I’ll go and give them back to her, eh?”

“Precisely, sir. And, if I may make the suggestion, I think it might be judicious to stress the fact that they were stolen by—”

“Lord! By the dashed girl she was forcing me to marry!”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Jeeves,” I said, “this is going to be my biggest victory that has ever occurred in the world’s history.”

“It is not unlikely, sir.”

“It will keep her quiet^[76] for a bit!”

“It should have that effect, sir.”

Long before I reached Aunt Agatha’s lair I could tell that the hunt was up^[77]. Divers in hotel uniform and many chambermaids were hanging about in the corridor, and through the panels I could hear the Aunt Agatha’s voice. I knocked but no one took any notice, so I went in. I noticed a chambermaid in hysterics, Aunt Agatha and the hotel manager who looked like a bandit.

“Oh, hallo!” I said. “Hallo-allo-allo!”

Aunt Agatha looked at me. No welcoming smile for Bertram.

“Don’t bother me now, Bertie,” she snapped, looking at me as if I were the bandit myself.

“Something wrong?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’ve lost my pearls.”

“Pearls? Pearls? Pearls?” I said. “No, really? Where did you see them last?”

“What does it matter where I saw them last? They have been stolen.”

Here the hotel manger stepped into the ring and began to talk rapidly in French. The chambermaid whooped in the corner.

“Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?” I asked.

“Of course I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Well, you know, I’ve often lost my collars and—”

“Don’t drive me mad, Bertie! I have enough to bear without your imbecilities. Oh, be quiet! Be quiet!” she shouted in the sort of voice used by sergeant-majors. And such was the magnetism of her personality that the manager became silent as if he had run into a wall. The chambermaid continued weep.

“I say,” I said, “I think there’s something with this girl. Isn’t she crying or something?”

“She stole my pearls! I am convinced of it.”

Aunt Agatha turned to the manager.

“I tell you, my good man, for the hundredth time—”

“I say,” I said, “I don’t want to interrupt you and all that sort of thing, but aren’t these the pearls you are looking for?”

I pulled the pearls out of my pocket.

“These look like pearls, eh?”

I don’t know when I’ve been happier. It was one of those occasions about which I shall tell my grandchildren—if I ever have any. Aunt Agatha simply deflated before my eyes. It reminded me of when I once saw some fellows letting the gas out of a balloon.

“Where—where—where—” she gurgled.

“I got them from your friend, Miss Hemmingway.”

Even now she didn’t get it.

“From Miss Hemmingway. Miss Hemmingway. But—but how did they come into her possession?”

“How?” I said. “Because she stole them. Because that’s how she makes her living. I don’t know what her alias is, but her brother, the chap whose collar buttons at the back, is known in criminal circles as Soapy Sid.”

She blinked.

“Miss Hemmingway a thief! I— I—” She stopped and looked feebly at me. “But how did you manage to recover the pearls, Bertie dear?”

“Never mind,” I said severely. “I have my methods. I must say, Aunt Agatha, I think you have been infernally careless. There’s a printed notice in every bedroom in this place saying that there’s a safe in the manager’s office, where jewellery and valuables ought to be placed, and you absolutely disregarded it. And what’s the result? The first thief who came along simply walked into your room and took your pearls. And instead of admitting that it was all your fault, you began to bite this poor man. You have been very, very unjust to this poor man.”

“Yes, yes,” moaned the poor man.

“And this unfortunate girl, what about her? You’ve accused her of stealing the things on absolutely no evidence.”

“Mais oui, mais ouis, c’est trop fort^[78]!” shouted the Bandit Chief. And the chambermaid looked up inquiringly, as if the sun was breaking through the clouds.

“I shall recompense her,” said Aunt Agatha feebly.

“If you take my tip you will do it speedily. If I were her I wouldn’t take a penny under twenty pounds. But what surprised me is the way you’ve unjustly abused this poor man here and tried to give his hotel a bad name!”

“Yes, by damn! It’s too bad!” cried the whiskered marvel. “You careless old woman! You give my hotel a bad name! Tomorrow you will leave my hotel!”

And presently having said this, he withdrew, taking the chambermaid with him, the latter with a ten pound note. The manager got his ten as well.

I turned to Aunt Agatha.

“I don’t want continue the conversation, Aunt Agatha,” I said coldly, “but I should just like to point out before I go that the girl who stole your pearls is the girl you’ve been forcing me to marry ever since I got here. Good heavens! A good wife, eh? Do you realize that if I had children they would steal my watch while they were sitting on my knees? I’m not complaining, but I must say that another time you might be more careful choosing the girls for me to marry.”

I gave her one look, turned on my heel and left the room.

“Ten o’clock, a clear night, and all’s well, Jeeves,’ I said, coming back into the good old suite.

“I am gratified to hear it, sir.’

“If twenty pounds would be any use to you, Jeeves—”

“I am much obliged, sir.’

There was a pause. And then—well, I did it. I took the cummerbund and handed it over.

“Do you wish me to press this, sir?”

I looked at the cummerbund. It had been very dear to me.

“No,” I said, “take it away; give it to the poor—I shall never wear it again.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” said Jeeves.