Free Uncle Dynamite by P.G. Wodehouse

one thing that gripped my attention, and that was that he had
written his Reminiscences and had decided after some thought to pay for their
publication. He spoke like a man who had had disappointments. So I said to
myself “Ha! A job for Otis.”‘
    ‘I
begin to see. Otis took it on and made a mess of it?’
    ‘Yes.
In a negligent moment he slipped in some plates which should have appeared in a
book on Modern Art which he was doing. Sir Aylmer didn’t like any of them much,
but the one he disliked particularly was the nude female with “Myself in the
Early Twenties” under it. The first thing I knew about it was when he sent the
bust back. Lady Bostock brought it round to my studio with a stiff note. And
now he’s bringing an action for enormous damages. If it comes off, it will
smash Otis’s poor little publishing firm. It’s all rather unfortunate.’
    ‘Most.
But characteristic of Otis.’
    ‘Poor
lamb, he’s dreamy.’
    ‘Poor
fish, he’s a nightmare. I suppose you put up money for his publishing firm?’
    ‘A
certain amount.’
    ‘Oh,
heavens. Well, I’m sorry to say it, my dear, but if what you tell me is
correct, any jury will give Bostock Otis’s head on a charger.’
    ‘I
know. If the thing ever comes into court. That’s why I need Pongo’s help. I
want him to use his influence with Sir Aylmer to get him to withdraw the suit.
He might persuade him to settle for some smallish amount which wouldn’t ruin
Otis.’
    ‘That
would be the happy ending, of course. But is Pongo persona grata with
him?’
    ‘Surely?’
    ‘I
wonder. It all depends on how he has come out with that bust. Strange that
Otis’s future as a publisher, which I don’t care a damn about, and your little
bit of money, which I do, should depend on Pongo’s ability to sneak a clay bust
into Ashenden Manor and get away with it. Odd. Bizarre, you might say. Life can
be very complicated at times.’
    ‘What
do you mean? What bust?’
    ‘That
is the story I am about to relate. Have you had enough to eat? Then let’s go
and have our coffee in the lounge. Yes,’ said Lord Ickenham, when they had
seated themselves in two of the luxurious armchairs which Barribault’s Hotel
provides for its patrons, ‘very complicated indeed. I told you Pongo came to my
place last night.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Today,
after lunch, he started out for Ashenden, to fascinate the old folks. I waved him
a tender farewell, and thought that that was the last I should see of him for
at least a week. I was wrong. He was back again in under two hours. Deeply
agitated. More like a cat on hot bricks than anything human.’
    ‘But
why?’
    ‘Because,
in endeavouring to demonstrate to the Ashenden Manor housemaid how Brazilian
natives shoot birds with rude slings, he had happened to break that bust in the
hall, of which you were speaking just now.’
    ‘Oh,
golly.’
    ‘Hullo!
You agitated, too?’
    ‘Of
course I’m agitated. Don’t you see, Uncle Fred? Sir Aylmer adores that bust.
He’ll be furious with Pongo —‘
    ‘Thus
rendering Pongo in no position to plead for Otis? Yes, that seems to follow.
But calm yourself. All may yet be well. His motive in coming to me was to
borrow another bust to put on the bereaved pedestal, in the hope that the
substitution would not be noticed.’
    ‘That was
bright.’
    ‘Yes,
much too bright for Pongo. It must have been the housemaid who suggested it. He
isn’t what I would call a quick-witted chap. I remember so well his confusion
of mind when they were asking him his name that day at the Dog Races. He had
got as far as “Tw —“ when I was fortunately able to lean across and whisper to
him that he was Edwin Smith of 11 Nasturtium Road, East Dulwich.’
    ‘And
what were you?’
    ‘George
Robinson, of number fourteen in the same thoroughfare. Yes, I think we may
safely attribute to the housemaid any swift intelligence that was displayed on
this occasion. Well, I gave him a bust and he drove off with it. We have