Much Obliged, Jeeves

and Spode was even more remote. Our views on each other were definite. His was that what England needed if it was to become a land fit for heroes to live in was fewer and better Woosters, while I had always felt that there was nothing wrong with England that a ton of bricks falling from a height on Spode’s head wouldn’t cure.
    ‘You know him? ‘ said the camera chap.
    ‘I’m sorry to say I do,’ said Spode, speaking like Sherlock Holmes asked if he knew Professor Moriarty. ‘How did you happen to meet him?’
    ‘I found him making off with my camera.’
    ‘Hal ‘
    ‘Naturally I thought he was stealing it. But if he’s really Mrs. Travers’s nephew, I suppose I was mistaken.’
    Spode would have none of this reasoning, though it seemed pretty sound to me. He snorted again with even more follow-through than the first time.
    ‘Being Mrs. Travers’s nephew means nothing. If he was the nephew of an archbishop he would behave in a precisely similar manner. Wooster would steal anything that was not nailed down, provided he could do it unobserved. He couldn’t have known you were there?’
    ‘No. I was behind a bush.’
    ‘And your camera looks a good one’
    ‘Cost me a lot of money.’
    ‘Then of course he was intending to steal it. He must have thought he had dropped into a bit of good luck. Let me tell you about Wooster. The first time I met him was in an antique shop. I had gone there with Sir Watkyn Bassett, my future father-in-law. He collects old silver. And Sir Watkyn had propped his umbrella up against a piece of furniture. Wooster was there, but lurking, so we didn’t see him.’
    ‘In a dark corner, perhaps?’
    ‘Or behind something. The first we saw of him, he was sneaking off with Sir Watkyn’s umbrella.’
    ‘Pretty cool.’
    ‘Oh, he’s cool all right. These fellows have to be.’
    ‘I suppose so. Must take a nerve of ice.’
    To say that I boiled with justifiable indignation would not be putting it too strongly. As I have recorded elsewhere, there was a ready explanation of my behaviour. I had come out without my umbrella that morning, and, completely forgetting that I had done so, I had grasped old Bassett’s, obeying the primeval instinct which makes a man without an umbrella reach out for the nearest one in sight, like a flower groping towards the sun. Unconsciously, as it were.
    Spode resumed. They had taken a moment off, no doubt in order to brood on my delinquency. His voice now was that of one about to come to the high spot in his narrative.
    ‘You’ll hardly believe this, but soon after that he turned up at Totleigh Towers, Sir Watkyn’s house in Gloucestershire.’
    ‘Incredible! ‘
    ‘I thought you’d think so.’
    ‘Disguised, of course? A wig? A false beard? His cheeks stained with walnut juice?’
    ‘No, he came quite openly, invited by my future wife. She has a sort of sentimental pity for him. I think she hopes to reform him.’
    ‘Girls will be girls.’
    ‘Yes, but I wish they wouldn’t.’
    ‘Did you rebuke your future wife?’
    ‘I wasn’t in a position to then.’
    ‘Probably a wise thing, anyway. I once rebuked the girl I wanted to marry, and she went off and teamed up with a stockbroker. So what happened?’
    ‘He stole a valuable piece of silver. A sort of silver cream jug. A cow-creamer, they call it.’
    ‘My doctor forbids me cream. You had him arrested, of course?’
    ‘We couldn’t. No evidence.’
    ‘But you knew he had done it?’
    ‘We were certain.’
    ‘Well, that’s how it goes. See any more of him after that? ‘
    ‘This you will not believe. He came to Totleigh Towers again ! ‘
    ‘Impossible ! ‘
    ‘Once more invited by my future wife.’
    ‘Would that be the Miss Bassett who arrived last night?’
    ‘Yes, that was Madeline.’
    ‘Lovely girl. I met her in the garden before breakfast. My doctor recommends a breath of fresh air in the early morning. Did you know she thinks those bits of mist you see on the grass are the elves’ bridal veils? ‘
    ‘She has a very whimsical fancy.’
    ‘And nothing to be done about it, I suppose. But you were telling me about this second visit of Wooster’s to Totleigh Towers. Did he steal anything this time?’
    ‘An amber statuette worth a thousand pounds.’
    ‘He certainly gets around,’ said the camera chap with, I thought, a sort of grudging admitation. ‘I hope you had him arrested?’
    ‘We did. He spent the night in the local gaol. But next morning Sir Watkyn