Stockman's extraordinary member, but that is neither here nor there, as the actress said to the bishop. Fortunately for my own bank account, Lord Bourne has as much card sense as a pair of Lady Everleigh's tweezers, but he is man enough to pay for his lessons in card play. Nevertheless, he should watch carefully when I mix and deal the cards as I must admit that my Lord Bourne could then, with more truth than he would realise, recite the words of the poet: 'I do not like the way the cards are shuffled, But yet I like the game and want to play.' However, I am guilty of digression; Sir Trelford invited me to dine with him the next evening and I accepted with pleasure. However, as we were taking our leave, I suddenly remembered my promise to John, the son of my country neighbours Professor and Mrs. Walsh, that he could visit me for a week during his half-term holiday as a sixteenth birthday treat. 'Trelly,'
I called after him. 'I have just remembered that Professor Walsh's son John is staying with me for a week beginning tomorrow. The scamp is looking forward to coming to London immensely and I cannot let him down.' 'Great God, I haven't seen John for ages-is he really sixteen now? Well, I'll be damned, how time flies. I expect he's a chip off the old block like all those hot-blooded young pups. I last saw him some years back when I went down to his school to present the annual prizes.' 'He would very much like to be a gay young blade but John is very shy, and at Greyfriars he has been given no chances whatsoever to sample even a morsel of the delights afforded by wine, women and song,' I said with a note of genuine regret. 'Whilst John is a very agreeable young chap who, like myself, is a bit of a bookworm and appears to like nothing better than to peruse the stock at Gastons' Library during his vacation. Nevertheless, I did see him once looking at the prints in Harts Holywell Street shop, and from the bulge in the front of his trousers, he is at least a devotee of the undraped female form and has left the usual public school nonsenses far behind him,' I added. 'Well, no matter, Freddy, no matter, bring the boy along. I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll invite Colonel Neil and ask him to bring his niece. You know the man, by the way? He is something of an arriviste who has tunnelled his path into Society through brown-tonguing the necessary persons who supposedly make up the great and the good. Anyhow, his niece Patricia lives with him, whilst her parents are in America, and she can partner young Walsh,' said the genial baronet. 'Thank you, Trelly, that is awfully kind of you. I'm sure John will be tremendously bucked by being invited to dine in D*** Street. We'll see you tomorrow, then, at eight o'clock,'
I said, waving to Lord Bourne who had just entered the club. In fact, I won only ten pounds at cards that evening, but I was in a good temper when young John Walsh arrived at my house the next day. After ordering Perrick to take up his cases, I settled the handsome youngster in a comfortable chair, passed him a whisky and soda and decided to tell him of our new arrangements without delay. 'I have some exciting news for you, John. We have both been invited to dine at Sir Trelford Stamp's house tonight. I know I said we would visit Covent Garden, but we can see this new Opera, what's it called, Cavalleria Rusticana, another evening. In fact, I've accepted the offer of old Jolyon Forsyte's box there for Saturday night, so you will not miss out.' The boy flushed as he said: 'Sir, that is very good of you, but I've never attended a formal dinner party before, and though I know which way to pass the port, I am totally without experience in making conversation to adults other than my family. Surely it would be most unfair to burden other guests with my presence.' 'Stuff and nonsense,' I said heartily. 'In fact, Sir Trelford needs you to squire the niece of one of his friends, Colonel Neil of the 69th Paisley Division, who has also been invited. I am sure that you will enjoy the evening immensely.' He hesitated a moment before saying: 'Must we really go?' 'Of course we must go!
As I said, you will have a jolly time there. Ah, wait a moment, perhaps I have worried you by telling you about Colonel Neil's niece.'
'How sagacious of you, sir! I will admit it, I am deucedly shy when it comes to meeting girls. I have had so little experience, you see, and frankly, I am terrified that I will make an ass of myself.'
So it was with some foreboding that I ordered Perrick to lay out our white ties and tails for seven o'clock sharp. In fact, John looked quite splendid in his evening attire. His curly hair, his handsome face and winning smile would surely not disappoint Colonel Neil's niece who I had heard was an extremely pretty young lady. I am a stickler for punctuality, so my coachman deposited us just seven minutes after eight o'clock at Sir Trelford's magnificent house. We were ushered into the morning room where some earlier arrivals were drinking champagne. Sir Trelford pulled us over to a rather stout Scottish gentleman and said: 'I don't think you gentlemen have met each other before. Colonel Neil, this is my old friend the Reverend Horace Bent-Organ, and the young man is John Walsh who I had the pleasure of giving the Victor Ludorum Award for English Literature at the annual Grey friars School prizegiving some time back. Horace, young Walsh, meet Colonel Neil who I believe is about to make one further introduction.' 'Indeed I am,' said the plump gentleman, gently pulling round a blonde-haired girl who had her back to us as she put down an empty glass on the tray proferred by a waiter. He continued: 'This is my niece, Miss Patricia Hiller of Kensington.
Patricia, may I present the Reverend Bent-Organ and Mr. John Walsh.'
Well, the Colonel may have been rather stout and plain of countenance, but Miss Hiller was a truly lovely girl, perhaps just a year or two older than my own protege. Her pretty face was set off by a mop of blonde hair, a pair of large, merry blue eyes and a generous mouth. And her low-cut peach gown set off admirably the snowy prominence of her large bosoms. Both John and myself were momentarily tongue-tied as we drank in her beauty, and it was fortunate that Miss Hiller herself broke the brief silence by saying in a sweet voice: 'Are you still a pupil at Greyfriars Academy, Mr. Walsh? I once met Clive Wingate who I believe was Captain of the School.' 'Oh yes, Miss Hiller, Wingate was a capital fellow, but I have not seen him since he went up to Oxford in September. He was also captain of football and I played with him in the school team.' 'Offer her a drink,' I hissed quietly at John, who was still somewhat ill at ease, 'and then ask her about how she likes living in London, which is something you have always wanted to do.' He took my advice to heart, perhaps over-enthusiastically, for I saw him make several trips to the champagne bar. In fact, Sir Trelford had arranged a buffet supper which I have always enjoyed for its informality. I noticed the young couple deep in conversation and, whilst waiting for my own paramour to arrive (this is, of course, Lady Jacques who had told Sir Trelford that she would not be able to arrive until ten o'clock as her husband was catching the sleeper train to Aberdeen that evening-I mention her name as our liaison is hardly unknown to readers of this magazine), I decided to eavesdrop on the two young people who were sitting side by side on the couch in Sir Trelford's drawing room.
'So you won the Victor Ludorum?' said Patricia gaily. 'Is that anything like the Victor Pudendum award given at the special shows at the Jim Jam Club?' Good heavens! How could this sweet young girl (who I found out from Colonel Neil was only eighteen years old) know about the orgiastic affairs at the Jim Jam! Could my ears be deceiving me? 'The Victor Pudendum,' stammered John, 'I don't know anything about that.' 'Silly boy, it is only the most sought-after trophy in London. Members of the Jim Jam Club award it monthly for the best exhibition of fucking,' laughed Patricia gaily. 'It is hardly an event advertised in the columns of The Times, but I assure you that some of the very best people in town can be seen there as either spectators or participants.' 'I've never been to a show myself, but I know Sir Trelford rarely misses a performance,' she continued. 'And as for my dear uncle, Colonel Neil, he managed to wangle himself a place on the judges table last month. May fair gossip has it that it was he who ensured that Sir Antony Mulliken and Mrs. Robert Wapping won the golden goblet that is given to the winners. Yet most people who were present opined that the trophy should have been awarded to Mr. Denis Le Baigue and Lady Roberta Cripps who fucked blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs.' At this juncture, I must state that I fully agreed with Patricia's assessment, for I must confess that I was at that affair as a guest of Lord Pokingham and, like others, believed that Colonel Neil may have made a prior arrangement with Mrs. Wapping as she is commonly reckoned to be extremely accommodating whilst her husband is in Australia. 'Perhaps we could go together to the Jim Jam for the next Victor Pudendum,'