Right Ho, Jeeves

house was officially closed and all the staff on holiday—to visitchis sailor son at Portsmouth.”
    “Golly, Jeeves!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “These dreamer types do live, don’t they?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What happened then?”
    “Mr. Fink-Nottle appears to have realized at this point that his position as regards the cabman had become equivocal. The figures on the clock had already reached a substantial sum, and he was not in a position to meet his obligations.”
    “He could have explained.”
    “You cannot explain to cabmen, sir. On endeavouring to do so, he found the fellow sceptical of his bona fides.”
    “I should have legged it.”
    “That is the policy which appears to have commended itself to Mr. Fink-Nottle. He darted rapidly away, and the cabman, endeavouring to detain him, snatched at his overcoat. Mr. Fink-Nottle contrived to extricate himself from the coat, and it would seem that his appearance in the masquerade costume beneath it came as something of a shock to the cabman. Mr. Fink-Nottle informs me that he heard a species of whistling gasp, and, looking round, observed the man crouching against the railings with his hands over his face. Mr. Fink-Nottle thinks he was praying. No doubt an uneducated, superstitious fellow, sir. Possibly a drinker.”
    “Well, if he hadn’t been one before, I’ll bet he started being one shortly afterwards. I expect he could scarcely wait for the pubs to open.”
    “Very possibly, in the circumstances he might have found a restorative agreeable, sir.”
    “And so, in the circumstances, might Gussie too, I should think. What on earth did he do after that? London late at night—or even in the daytime, for that matter—is no place for a man in scarlet tights.”
    “No, sir.”
    “He invites comment.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I can see the poor old bird ducking down side-streets, skulking in alley-ways, diving into dust-bins.”
    “I gathered from Mr. Fink-Nottle’s remarks, sir, that something very much on those lines was what occurred. Eventually, after a trying night, he found his way to Mr. Sipperley’s residence, where he was able to secure lodging and a change of costume in the morning.”
    I nestled against the pillows, the brow a bit drawn. It is all very well to try to do old school friends a spot of good, but I could not but feel that in enspousig the cause of a lunkhead capable of mucking things up as Gussie had done, I had taken on a contract almost too big for human consumption. It seemed to me that what Gussie needed was not so much the advice of a seasoned man of the world as a padded cell in Colney Hatch and a couple of good keepers to see that he did not set the place on fire.
    Indeed, for an instant I had half a mind to withdraw from the case and hand it back to Jeeves. But the pride of the Woosters restrained me. When we Woosters put our hands to the plough, we do not readily sheathe the sword. Besides, after that business of the mess-jacket, anything resembling weakness would have been fatal.
    “I suppose you realize, Jeeves,” I said, for though one dislikes to rub it in, these things have to be pointed out, “that all this was your fault?”
    “Sir?”
    “It’s no good saying ‘Sir?’ You know it was. If you had not insisted on his going to that dance—a mad project, as I spotted from the first—this would not have happened.”
    “Yes, sir, but I confess I did not anticipate–-”
    “Always anticipate everything, Jeeves,” I said, a little sternly. “It is the only way. Even if you had allowed him to wear a Pierrot costume, things would not have panned out as they did. A Pierrot costume has pockets. However,” I went on more kindly, “we need not go into that now. If all this has shown you what comes of going about the place in scarlet tights, that is something gained. Gussie waits without, you say?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then shoot him in, and I will see what I can do for him.”

    -6-
    Gussie, on arrival, proved to be still showing traces of his grim experience. The face was pale, the eyes gooseberry-like, the ears drooping, and the whole aspect that of a man who has passed through the furnace and been caught in the machinery. I hitched myself up a bit higher on the pillows and gazed at him narrowly. It was a moment, I could see, when first aid was required, and I prepared to get down to cases.
    “Well, Gussie.”
    “Hullo, Bertie.”
    “What ho.”
    “What ho.”
    These civilities concluded, I felt that the