Thank You, Jeeves

'His lordship's breakfast, sir.'

'Where is he?'

'He should be down shortly, sir. It is a most fortunate chance that her ladyship should have instructed me to ring up the Seaview Hotel. Otherwise we might have experienced some difficulty in establishing connection.'

'Yes. What was all that, by the way? That Seaview Hotel stuff.'

'Her ladyship is somewhat exercised in her mind about Sir Roderick, sir. I fancy that on reflection she has reached the conclusion that she did not treat him well last night.'

'Mother Love not so hot this morning?'

'No, sir.'

'And it's a case of "Return and all will be forgiven"?'

'Precisely, sir. But unfortunately, Sir Roderick appears to be missing, and we can secure no information as to what has become of him.'

I was in a position, of course, to explain and clarify, and I did so without delay.

'He's all right. After an invigorating session with Brinkley, he went to my garage to get petrol. Was he correct in supposing that that would clean him as well as butter?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then I should think he was on his way to London by now, if not actually in the Metropolis.'

'I will notify her ladyship at once, sir. I imagine that the information will serve sensibly to lessen her anxiety.'

'You really think she loves him still and wishes to extend the amende honorable!'

'Or olive branch? Yes, sir. So, at least, I divined from her demeanour. I was left with the impression that all the old love and esteem were in operation once more.'

'And I'm very glad to hear it,' I said cordially. 'For I must tell you, Jeeves, that since we last got together I have completely changed my mind about the above Glossop. I see now that there is much good in him. In the silent watches of the night we formed what you wouldn't be far out in describing as a beautiful friendship. We discovered each other's hidden merits, and he left showering invitations to lunch.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'Absolutely. From now on, there will always be a knife and fork for Bertram at the Glossop lair, and the same for Roddy chez Bertram.'

'Very gratifying, sir.'

'Most. So if you're chatting with Lady Chuffnell in the near future, you can tell her that the match now has my full approval and sanction. But all this, Jeeves,' I proceeded, striking the practical note, 'is beside the point. The main issue is that I am sorely in need of nourishment, and I want that tray. So hand it across and look slippy.'

'You are proposing to eat his lordship's breakfast, sir?'

'Jeeves,' I said emotionally, and was about to go on to add that, if he had any doubts as to what I was proposing to do to that breakfast, he could remove them by standing to one side and watching me get action, when once more I heard footsteps in the passage outside.

Instead of speaking along these lines, accordingly, I blenched, as near as a fellow can blench when his face is all covered with boot polish, and broke off with a brief heart cry. Once more I perceived that it had become imperative that I vanish from the scene.

These footsteps, I must mention, were of the solid, sturdy, shoe-number-eleven type. It was natural, therefore, that I should assume that it was Chuffy who now stood without. And to encounter Chuffy, I need scarcely say, would have been foreign to my policy. I have already indicated with, I think, sufficient clearness, that he was not in sympathy with my aims and objects. That interview we had had on the previous night had shown me that he was to be reckoned as essentially one of the opposition – a hostile element and a menace. Let him discover me here, and the first thing I knew he would be locking me up somewhere in a spirit of chivalrous zeal and sending messengers to old Stoker to drop round and collect.

Long, therefore, before the handle had turned I was down in the depths like a diving duck.

The door opened. A female voice spoke. No doubt that of the future Mrs Constable Dobson.

'Mr Stoker,' it announced.

Large, flat feet clumped into the room.

18 BLACK WORK IN A STUDY

I wedged myself a little tighter in behind the old zareba. Not so good, not so good, a voice seemed to be whispering in my ear. Of all the unpleasant contingencies which could have arisen, this seemed to me about the scaliest. Whatever might have been said against Chuffnell Hall – and recent events had tended considerably to lessen its charm in my eyes – I had supposed that you could put forward at least one thing in its favour, viz. that there was no possible chance of encountering J. Washburn Stoker on the premises. And, in spite of having my time fairly fully occupied with feeling like a jelly, I was still able to experience quite a spot of honest indignation at what I considered a dashed unjustifiable irritation on his part.

I mean to say, if a man has thrown his weight about in a stately home of England, ticking off the residents and asserting positively that he jolly well isn't going to darken its doors again, he has no place to come strolling in barely two days later as if the place were an hotel with 'Welcome' on the mat. I felt pretty strongly about the whole thing.

I was also wondering how Jeeves would handle this situation. By this time a shrewd bloke like this Stoker was bound to have guessed that his were the brains behind my escape, and it seemed not unlikely that he would make some tentative move towards scattering these brains on the hearthrug. His voice, when he spoke, undoubtedly indicated that some such idea was floating in his mind. It was harsh and roopy, and though all that he actually said by way of a start was 'Ah!' a determined man can get a lot of meaning into an 'Ah!'

'Good morning, sir,' said Jeeves.

This business of lying curled up behind desks cuts both ways. It has its advantages and its drawbacks. Purely from the standpoint of the slinking fugitive, of course, fine. Indeed, could scarcely be bettered. But against this must be set the fact that it undoubtedly hampers a chap in his capacity of audience. The effect now was much the same as if I had been listening in to a dramatic sketch on the wireless. I got the voices, but I missed the play of expression. And I'd have given a lot to be able to see it. Not Jeeves's, of course, because Jeeves never has any. But Stoker's, it seemed to me, would have been well worth more than a casual glance.

'So you're here, are you?'

'Yes, sir.'

The next item was an extremely nasty laugh from the visitor. One of those hard, short, sharp ones.

'I came here because I wanted information about where Mr Wooster has got to. I thought that Lord Chuffnell might possibly have seen him. I never reckoned I should run into you. Say, listen,' said the Stoker disease, suddenly hotting up, 'do you know what I've a mind to do to you?'

'No, sir.'

'Break your damned neck.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'Yes.'

I heard Jeeves cough.

'A little extreme, sir, surely? I can appreciate that the fact that I decided – somewhat abruptly, I admit – to leave your employment and return to that of his lordship should occasion displeasure on your part, but ...'

'You know what I'm talking about. Or are you going to deny that it was you who smuggled that guy Wooster off my yacht?'

'No, sir. I admit that I was instrumental in restoring his liberty to Mr Wooster. In the course of a conversation which I had with him, Mr Wooster informed me that he was being detained on the vessel ultra vires, and, acting in your best interests, I released him. At that time, you will recall, sir, I was in your employment, and I felt it my duty to save you from what might have been an extremely serious contretemps.'