As many of my chums could tell you, there is no one who anticipates fancy dress parties with more enthusiasm than Bertram W., and this one was particularly anticipated. It promised to be a grand to-do; I had a topping costume all in order, and better yet there were no engagements looming or even threatening, nor lovelorn pals in need of a hand, or in fact anything else that could possibly force me to give up the thing, or worse, attend it in an ill-fitting, stolen policeman's uniform. And for that I was grateful, because I dearly needed the respite with how dashed uncomfortable things had been with Jeeves of late.
After a light supper of a few choice dishes prepared by the incomparable Anatole, I went up and changed into my costume - a proper Sinbad complete with golden sash - and then myself, Angela, and a few pals of hers were all off to the ball. I don't know if I can rightly do the thing justice. It was hosted in one of those grand halls with great marble columns and crystal chandeliers, and dozens of auxiliary rooms besides - if auxiliary's the word I mean. We arrived just on time, as such things go; the to-do was in full swing with people everywhere in all manner of costumes. I sighted five Pierrots right out of the gate, and I could not claim to be the only Sinbad in attendance.
The band had just started up a bright, energetic tune, and everyone was swinging in time to the music - if with varying degrees of finesse. It made for something of a jungle of swaying arms and legs for a bit there, but we made it to an open spot on the floor and joined in the fray. I can shake a mean leg when I am called upon to do so, and I assure you that on this occasion, my leg shook with the best of them.
We hadn't been at it for very long when I caught sight of him, standing not far away in the crowd. Now, there were plenty of chaps between here and there who failed to draw the eye, but this one was just about impossible to miss, even taller than myself - and I'm a longish, willowy chap - and much broader. Furthermore, he was standing perfectly still, which would have made anyone stand out in a crowd like this, but he didn't look like one of those awkward coves lingering on the sidelines; he seemed to be standing about with remarkable purpose for a chap who wasn't doing anything, like Jeeves when he was lingering on hand, but this fellow hardly disappeared into the furniture. He was well dressed, in a long coat, complete with a white wig like you see in those old portraits, with a ponytail in back. More striking still, the man's features were concealed behind a mask beaked like a bird - an opera mask, I believe it's called; the sort that falls off the moment you start dancing and chafes badly against the skin besides. However, he didn't seem to mind it, instead it gave him a distinguished air of mystery that only made you want to know who the remarkable fellow was underneath.
There was something dashed impressive about the man and what's more, if I wasn't mistaken, his beaky gaze seemed directed at yours truly. I wondered if he was a pal of mine who happened to be about - his stature wasn't so different from that of Stinker Pinker, or Stilton Cheesewright, or Jeeves for that matter - but he made no move to approach, instead standing still and silent, the eye holes of his mask angled directly at me.
"I say!" I exclaimed. "Angela, old thing!"
"What is it?" she asked, pausing mid swing.
I was about to direct her attention to the fellow, but by the time I had looked back up into the crowd, he had vanished, and I was left to assume that he hadn't been looking at me after all.
"Oh, nothing," I said, a bit disappointed to tell the truth, "just a chap with one of those rummy opera masks. I almost thought he might have been a pal of mine, what?"
Angela and I both shrugged it off and hopped back into the dance, not to miss another beat of the old favorite. I just about forgot about the fellow as we went from that dance into the next, and then the band struck up another.
I was just getting into the thing - this one was a bit new to me - when Angela stopped in her tracks and exclaimed, "Bertie! Is that him?"
She pointed into the crowd behind me and I turned around just in time to see a white ponytail vanishing behind a column.
"Rather!" I exclaimed. "That's just the one!"
"Well, I could've sworn he was looking right at you," Angela said. "You're sure he's not a friend of yours?"
"I say, with that mask he could be Jeeves and I wouldn't know any better!" I said, and at that point I was starting to get a sort of rummy suspicion about the thing, not that I could rightly place it - after all, what would Jeeves want with a fancy dress ball?
I was still thinking about the chap - and about Jeeves, for that matter - when I took a bit of a breather and went to retrieve some refreshments with Natalie, one of Angela's pals. We were wending our way through dancing multitudes that seemed like they may never tire, kidding back and forth, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted that masked chappie again. At first, I thought he was looking straight at me, but when I actually turned to face him, he was still there this time, but his gaze seemed locked upon some other fellow.
And then, as Nat and I continued on, the man seemed to mirror us, shimmering through the dancers with much greater ease than we were managing - I was lucky if no one stepped on my toe or swatted my nose as I ducked by. And when we reached the refreshments table, he stopped too, by the wall, still a bit of a ways away, now certainly looking in my direction.
Now that there weren't dozens of people between us, there was undoubtedly something familiar about the imposing chap, or at least so I fancied. And it was just like Jeeves, I rationalized - I believe is the expression - to simply materialize out of nowhere where the man is least expected on some mysterious errand of his own. I could have almost sworn I caught a glimpse of the man's rummy dark eyes peering out of the mask, glittering with intelligence. And if he wasn't Jeeves, well I dashed well ought to find out who it was and why he was following me about and staring at me with that mask of his. There was, of course, the possibility that I'd never met the man before and he was looking at another chap who just happened to be right beside me when I happened to glance his way, but I dismissed the idea outright.
I left Nat with the drinks - just for a shake or two - and strode over to the chap, not that I had a clue what I meant to say to him, Jeeves or not. However, as soon as I started to move in his direction, he slipped back into the crowd with much more ease than should have been possible for such a broad-shouldered sort. And just as I was making like the cat in the adage, letting I dare not wait upon I would and all that, worrying whether to chase after him, he turned back with a look that could have just as well been an invitation or a challenge, but neither of which I could refuse.
I dove after the man into the press of Pierrots and Columbines, as it were. Again, he had a much easier time than I, rippling through the crowd like a stream - and I'm sure a silent one at that. I tripped my way through a particularly tight knot of dancers, and glanced up again to find him gone from sight. There were dozens and dozens of chaps and fillies swirling about, but none was my impressive acquaintance. I wondered if he had not really meant for me to follow him after all.
And then, just as I had accepted that I might as well go back to Natalie and make the best of the rest of the ball - though I had half a mind to go searching for the mysterious chap myself and see if Bertram W. couldn't get some much deserved answers out of the fellow - I glimpsed him standing in a far doorway with what I took for a bit of impatience. And there was no mistaking it; his eye-holes were angled directly at Bertram W., waiting for me to follow after him. I believe I rather beamed at the chap, my heart greatly lifted, and toed it over with due speed.
I flung myself through the now vacated doorway, out into a smaller hall, filled with yet more dancers, as though they had overflowed from the grand ballroom - and among them, was my stoic guide, standing perfectly still on the opposite side of the room. His dark, beaky gaze met mine, and then in an instant he shimmered off and I hastened after him. We wound through the place, through a maze of halls, some with yet more dancers, and some with people just standing and talking over the music. A few times I feared I'd been swallowed up by the masses again, but again I would glimpse my guide, waiting for me to follow after.
I finally burst from a particularly claustrophobic chamber of the standing and talking sort into a more open second ballroom - or perhaps we'd simply wrapped back around into another part of the grand ballroom. I cast about for the chap in the open air when a woman in a wide dress swung by me, nearly sweeping me off my feet, and I only just hopped away in time.
It seemed this part of the party had elected for a bit of a more organized dance, a sort of old fashioned affair, with two columns, rotating around each other, and coming together to meet in the middle, surrounded by a handful of lollygaggers against the wall. My guide had somehow gotten himself all the way to the other end of the line, as though he had been a part of the dance the whole time, and he very well looked like he knew what he was doing - he certainly fit the thing better than I did in my Sinbad costume.
I watched the dance for a bit, getting the rhythm of it and whatnot, before I finally spotted an opening as the ladies and gents changed partners, and made something of a dive for it. My feet fumbled around my new partner's dress as I hastily swung one way and then the other, a bit more frantic than was right for the dance, to tell the truth. But somehow, I managed to weave and twirl my way from one partner to another until I found myself face to face with the masked man at last, his dark eyes examining me through the stiff paper.
It's easy to forget how large statured Jeeves is, for such an unassuming chap - at least in how he carries himself - but on that occasion, he seemed to cut a particularly grand figure between the mask and the longcoat, and up close, there was something awfully rummy about the way he stared at me with his dark eyes through the holes of his mask, which made even Bertram W. fall speechless. We circled each other, Jeeves's intense gaze never once faltering while his feet maneuvered around mine perfectly in time with the music - I remembered a friend once remarking that I wasn't the only one who could shake a dashed efficient shoe, and he was hardly wrong. And then, the partners changed and Jeeves circled away.
The next I looked up from doing my best not to trip on my subsequent partner's feet, Jeeves had slipped out of the line and seemed to be waiting for me on the edge of the crowd. This time I didn't even wait until it was time to switch again, I simply hopped out of line, hoping another chap would take the chance to replace me, and ducked around the other fellows, after Jeeves.
He led me out, through the french window, onto a veranda, lined with twinkling white fairy lights. I dodged past a chap - or rather a girl - with a giant yellow and orange lion's mask, and a fellow dressed like a king, out onto the steps leading down into the dark and quiet gardens. Jeeves was already down on the path below, and at this juncture, with no one between us, I broke into a run after the man, even though my sandals were hardly made for standing about, let alone running, and I don't think the rest of my costume was so sure about the sudden movement either.
He kept ahead of me for two turns, perhaps, winding between invisible flower beds and hedges which may as well have been walls in the dark, until I just about barreled into the chap, nearly throwing us both headlong into a fountain. Jeeves braced me in his solid arms and I managed to skid to a stop, my sandals presumably beyond repair.
"Jeeves," I exclaimed as soon as I had enough breath to huff it out, still leaning heavily on his arms, "what's the meaning of all this?"
"Good evening, sir," Jeeves said levelly, not bothering to answer the question.
He helped me to sit down on the edge of the fountain to catch my breath, and, to my surprise, he then sat beside me without even waiting for any invitation or so much as asking my leave. His mask he had already removed to sit no less dramatically on the edge of the fountain beside him.
We were alone there, aside from the distant din of the party, just the two of us in the garden with only the glimmering lights of the stars above.
"So, what's this all about, Jeeves?" I asked again once I was breathing steadily again, though it all still seemed a little fast. "Surely you're not just here to lead me on a wild chase around the place. Did Aunt Dahlia put you up to something? I told her you weren't consulting anymore."
"No, sir," Jeeves said, stopping my grievances short. "I am not here on Mrs. Travers's behalf."
"Then who put you up to it?" I demanded.
"No one, sir. I am here of my own accord." The man was inscrutable.
"But why?"
Jeeves didn't quite hesitate, but when he spoke, it was with the utmost delicacy. "To see you, sir, in a position other than as your valet."
Aunt Dahlia had warned me of such a thing, but I'd foolishly paid her no heed. "That's it then? You mean you've had enough of the Wooster employ?"
"No," Jeeves replied with surprising vehemence, for the man, at least, though it quickly faded. "No, sir. I merely wished to" - there he briefly paused - "enjoy the benefits of your company in a different context."
"I say," I replied, unsure what else to say, or what the man meant by it all. "To enjoy my company, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Like a chum?" I clarified.
Jeeves nodded a little. "If I may be so bold, sir."
"I say! Really?"
If I hadn't known better, I would have said Jeeves seemed a bit relieved, and I was quite sure that I detected the ghost of a smile playing across those chiseled features of his in the pale moonlight. I wondered if the chap wasn't laughing at me.
"This isn't very funny!" I said coldly and endeavored to push myself to my feet.
However, Jeeves detained me. "No, sir. I am quite serious."
"Really?" I still half expected it all to be some absurd joke, or part of one of his grand schemes. I kept expecting Aunt Dahlia to come out of the hedges and explain the whole wheeze.
"Yes, sir," Jeeves said, and remarkably he seemed to mean it.
I confess, I knew it wasn't quite the aristocratic thing, but I rather liked the sound of that, Jeeves and I being some manner of chums. I sometimes dared think of the man as a friend, but I never expected he would really want anything to do with Bertram W. and I couldn't possibly fathom why he seemed to now.
"I say, rather!" I began to beam at the chap, though I hastily amended, "If that's really what you want, I mean."
"Yes, sir," was all he said, but that rummy half-smile had returned and suddenly it didn't seem quite so mocking.
"I say!" was all I could say.
"Indeed, sir," he said, and not with the soupy tone he'd been using of late.
It was hard to know what to say, sitting on the edge of that fountain, side-by-side with my man Jeeves under the moon and stars. I could very well hardly believe my luck that Jeeves had sought out my company for its own sake; if you had told me it was but a dream, I would have said that of course, that explained it all quite nicely. As it was, however, all I seemed to be able to do was glance at Jeeves, wide-eyed at his impressive visage in the moonlight. I opened my mouth, as though I were about to speak, and then closed it when no words manifested themselves. I must have looked like a dashed fool - hardly the sort Jeeves would want to be pals with.
I was just about to say something - anything - to break the silence, as it were, when I suddenly remembered and leaped to my feet; "Oh, dash it all! I just about forgot, I'm afraid I rather abandoned Nat back at the refreshments table! And Angela will be wondering where I ran off to," and I could very well imagine how she would greet me upon my return. "Coming, Jeeves?"
"I believe it would be best if I did not, sir."
"Oh, yes, of course, that would be deuced awkward, what? But you do have a way back?"
"Yes, sir, I took the liberty of taking the car."
"I say!" I exclaimed, torn between being happy the chap had made it and all and a feeling that I ought to censure him for such a thing.
"I will see you at Brinkley Court, sir," Jeeves said. He stood and donned his mask once more, before rippling off into the night.
I, meanwhile, hastily rejoined the rest of the party. It took rather fewer twists and turns to find the grand ballroom than I had taken following after Jeeves, and from there it wasn't too difficult to spot the others.
"Bertie!" Angela exclaimed at the sight of me. "What were you doing running off like that?"
"Sorry, I thought I saw a chap I recognized, what?" I said, a bit sheepish.
"That masked man you mean? What did he want?"
I only shrugged. Angela glared back, but gave it up soon enough.
I made a rather halfhearted attempt at shaking the shoes a bit more and what not, but my mind lingered in the garden with Jeeves - though I knew the man must have been back at Brinkley Court by then. I admit I was not my usually convivial self; all through the ride back to the house I sat in a pensive silence, staring out at the dark shapes slipping past the window.
Upon our arrival, I went directly up to my room where Jeeves was waiting.
"Good evening, sir."
"What ho, Jeeves," I said wearily, feeling like I'd just run a marathon.
"Your bath is ready, sir," Jeeves said, anticipating my need before it occurred to me for what may have been the first time since I'd bought that bally tie.
"Thank you, Jeeves," I said, not quite up for beaming, but certainly smiling at the chap, and for his part, Jeeves seemed a goodish bit less the stuffed frog he'd been of late.