My Man Jeeves. P. G. Wodehouse

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      "The excrescence."

      "I beg your pardon, sir?"

      I looked at Jeeves sharply. This sort of thing wasn't like him. It was as if he were deliberately trying to give me the pip. Then I understood. The man was really upset about that tie. He was trying to get his own back.

      "Lord Pershore will be staying here from to-night, Jeeves," I said coldly.

      "Very good, sir. Breakfast is ready, sir."

      I could have sobbed into the bacon and eggs. That there wasn't any sympathy to be got out of Jeeves was what put the lid on it. For a moment I almost weakened and told him to destroy the hat and tie if he didn't like them, but I pulled myself together again. I was dashed if I was going to let Jeeves treat me like a bally one-man chain-gang!

      But, what with brooding on Jeeves and brooding on Motty, I was in a pretty reduced sort of state. The more I examined the situation, the more blighted it became. There was nothing I could do. If I slung Motty out, he would report to his mother, and she would pass it on to Aunt Agatha, and I didn't like to think what would happen then. Sooner or later, I should be wanting to go back to England, and I didn't want to get there and find Aunt Agatha waiting on the quay for me with a stuffed eelskin. There was absolutely nothing for it but to put the fellow up and make the best of it.

      About midday Motty's luggage arrived, and soon afterward a large parcel of what I took to be nice books. I brightened up a little when I saw it. It was one of those massive parcels and looked as if it had enough in it to keep the chappie busy for a year. I felt a trifle more cheerful, and I got my Country Gentleman hat and stuck it on my head, and gave the pink tie a twist, and reeled out to take a bite of lunch with one or two of the lads at a neighbouring hostelry; and what with excellent browsing and sluicing and cheery conversation and what-not, the afternoon passed quite happily. By dinner-time I had almost forgotten blighted Motty's existence.

      I dined at the club and looked in at a show afterward, and it wasn't till fairly late that I got back to the flat. There were no signs of Motty, and I took it that he had gone to bed.

      It seemed rummy to me, though, that the parcel of nice books was still there with the string and paper on it. It looked as if Motty, after seeing mother off at the station, had decided to call it a day.

      Jeeves came in with the nightly whisky-and-soda. I could tell by the chappie's manner that he was still upset.

      "Lord Pershore gone to bed, Jeeves?" I asked, with reserved hauteur and what-not.

      "No, sir. His lordship has not yet returned."

      "Not returned? What do you mean?"

      "His lordship came in shortly after six-thirty, and, having dressed, went out again."

      At this moment there was a noise outside the front door, a sort of scrabbling noise, as if somebody were trying to paw his way through the woodwork. Then a sort of thud.

      "Better go and see what that is, Jeeves."

      "Very good, sir."

      He went out and came back again.

      "If you would not mind stepping this way, sir, I think we might be able to carry him in."

      "Carry him in?"

      "His lordship is lying on the mat, sir."

      I went to the front door. The man was right. There was Motty huddled up outside on the floor. He was moaning a bit.

      "He's had some sort of dashed fit," I said. I took another look. "Jeeves! Someone's been feeding him meat!"

      "Sir?"

      "He's a vegetarian, you know. He must have been digging into a steak or something. Call up a doctor!"

      "I hardly think it will be necessary, sir. If you would take his lordship's legs, while I——"

      "Great Scot, Jeeves! You don't think—he can't be——"

      "I am inclined to think so, sir."

      And, by Jove, he was right! Once on the right track, you couldn't mistake it. Motty was under the surface.

      It was the deuce of a shock.

      "You never can tell, Jeeves!"

      "Very seldom, sir."

      "Remove the eye of authority and where are you?"

      "Precisely, sir."

      "Where is my wandering boy to-night and all that sort of thing, what?"

      "It would seem so, sir."

      "Well, we had better bring him in, eh?"

      "Yes, sir."

      So we lugged him in, and Jeeves put him to bed, and I lit a cigarette and sat down to think the thing over. I had a kind of foreboding. It seemed to me that I had let myself in for something pretty rocky.

      Next morning, after I had sucked down a thoughtful cup of tea, I went into Motty's room to investigate. I expected to find the fellow a wreck, but there he was, sitting up in bed, quite chirpy, reading Gingery stories.

      "What ho!" I said.

      "What ho!" said Motty.

      "What ho! What ho!"

      "What ho! What ho! What ho!"

      After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

      "How are you feeling this morning?" I asked.

      "Topping!" replied Motty, blithely and with abandon. "I say, you know, that fellow of yours—Jeeves, you know—is a corker. I had a most frightful headache when I woke up, and he brought me a sort of rummy dark drink, and it put me right again at once. Said it was his own invention. I must see more of that lad. He seems to me distinctly one of the ones!"

      I couldn't believe that this was the same blighter who had sat and sucked his stick the day before.

      "You ate something that disagreed with you last night, didn't you?" I said, by way of giving him a chance to slide out of it if he wanted to. But he wouldn't have it, at any price.

      "No!" he replied firmly. "I didn't do anything of the kind. I drank too much! Much too much. Lots and lots too much! And, what's more, I'm going to do it again! I'm going to do it every night. If ever you see me sober, old top," he said, with a kind of holy exaltation, "tap me on the shoulder and say, 'Tut! Tut!' and I'll apologize and remedy the defect."

      "But I say, you know, what about me?"

      "What about you?"

      "Well, I'm so to speak, as it were, kind of responsible for you. What I mean to say is, if you go doing this sort of thing I'm apt to get in the soup somewhat."

      "I can't СКАЧАТЬ