Full Moon by P G Wodehouse

Author:P G Wodehouse [Wodehouse, P G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Classics, Humour
ISBN: 9781585678365
Google: RN8NKbFbnCcC
Amazon: 1585678368
Barnesnoble: 1585678368
Goodreads: 17427847
Publisher: Random House
Published: 1947-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

II

On the occasions of his intermittent visits to Blandings Castle, the mental attitude of the Hon. Galahad Threepwood, as has been said, resembled that of a genial monarch pottering about his kingdom after having been away for a number of years battling with the Paynim overseas; and like such a monarch in such circumstances what he wanted was to see smiling faces about him.

The moroseness of the young man he had just left had, in consequence, made a deep impression upon him. He was still musing upon it and seeking to account for it when he came upon Colonel Egbert Wedge, sunning himself in the rose garden.

As Gally always breakfasted in bed and the colonel would have scorned to do anything so effete, this was the first time they had met since the banquet of the Loyal Sons of Shropshire, and their conversation for a few moments dealt with reminiscences of that function. Colonel Wedge said that in all his experience, which was a wide one, he had never heard a more footling after-dinner speech than old Bodger had made on that occasion. Gally, demurring, asked what price the one delivered half an hour later by old Todger. The colonel conceded that Todger had been pretty ghastly, but not so ghastly as Bodger. Gally, unwilling to mar this beautiful morning with argument, said perhaps he was right, adding that in his opinion both these territorial magnates had been as tight as owls.

A silence followed. Gally broke it by putting the question which had been exercising his mind at the moment of their meeting.

‘Tell me, Egbert,’ he said, ‘who would a tall, thin chap be?’

Colonel Wedge replied truly enough that he might be anyone – except, of course, a short, stout chap, and Gally became more explicit.

‘I was talking to him just now in the small smoking-room. Tall, thin chap with horn-rimmed spectacles. American, if I’m not mistaken. Oddly enough, he reminded me of a man I used to know in New York. Tall, thin, young, with a hell of a grouch and horn-rimmed spectacles all over his face.’

Colonel Wedge’s eyebrows came together in a frown. He no longer found any difficulty in assisting the process of identification.

‘That is a young fellow named Tipton Plimsoll. Freddie brought him here. And if you ask me, he ought to have taken him to a lunatic asylum instead of to Blandings Castle. Not,’ he was obliged to add, ‘that there’s much difference.’

It was plain that the name had touched a chord in Gally’s mind.

‘Tipton Plimsoll? You don’t happen to know if he has anything to do with a racket over in the States called Tipton’s Stores?’

‘Anything to do with them?’ Colonel Wedge was a strong man, so he did not groan hollowly, but his face was contorted with pain. ‘Freddie tells me he practically owns them.’

‘Then that is why his appearance struck me as familiar. He must be the nephew of old Chet Tipton, the man I was speaking of. I seem to remember Chet mentioning a nephew.

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