Дживс, вы – гений! / Thank you, Jeeves!

This man had been sent down by the agency in London, and I want to say he wasn’t the fellow I’d have selected if I had had time to make a choice in person. Not at all the man of my dreams. A melancholy blighter, with a long, thin, face and deep eyes. I had been trying to establish cordial relations ever since he had arrived, but with no success. Outwardly he was all respectfulness, but inwardly you could see that he was a man who was dreaming about the Social Revolution and looked on Bertram as a tyrant and an oppressor.

“Yes, Brinkley, I shall dine out.”

He said nothing, merely looking at me.

I went round to the garage and got the car out. It was only a matter of thirty miles or so to Bristol, and I got there to watch a musical comedy. I was feeling rested and refreshed when I started back home.

As I opened the door of my room, I dropped the candle. Pauline Stoker in my heliotrope pyjamas was sitting on my bed.

7

A Visitor for Bertie

The attitude of fellows towards finding girls in their bedroom after midnight varies.

“What—What—What—?”

“It’s all right.”

“All right?”

“Quite all right.”

“Oh?” I said. I stooped to pick up the candle, and the next moment I had uttered a cry.

“Don’t make such a noise!”

“But there’s a corpse on the floor.”

“There isn’t.”

“There is, I tell you. I was looking about for the candle, and my fingers touched something cold and still and wet.

“Oh, that’s my swimming suit.”

“Your swimming suit?”

“Well, do you think I came ashore by aeroplane?”

“You swam here from the yacht?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“Why?” I asked.

“You know, Bertie, steps should be taken about you.”

“Eh?”

“You ought to be in some sort of a home.”

“I am,” I replied coldly and rather cleverly. “My own. But what are you doing in it?”

She did not answer.

“Why did you want to kiss me in front of father? I can quite understand now why Sir Roderick told father that you ought to be under restraint.”

“The incident to which you allude is readily explained. I thought he was Chuffy.”

“Thought who was Chuffy?”

“Your father.”

“I don’t see what you mean,” she replied coldly.

I explained.

“The idea was to let Chuffy observe you in my embrace. To force him act speedily.