Right Ho, Jeeves

Angela.”
    “Indeed, sir?”
    “Well, how about it? Do you grasp the psychology? Does it make sense? Only a few hours ago he was engaged to Miss Bassett.”
    “Gentlemen who have been discarded by one young lady are often apt to attach themselves without delay to another, sir. It is what is known as a gesture.”
    I began to grasp.
    “I see what you mean. Defiant stuff.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “A sort of ‘Oh, right-ho, please yourself, but if you don’t want me, there are plenty who do.’”
    “Precisely, sir. My Cousin George–-”
    “Never mind about your Cousin George, Jeeves.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    “Keep him for the long winter evenings, what?”
    “Just as you wish, sir.”
    “And, anyway, I bet your Cousin George wasn’t a shrinking, non-goose-bo-ing jellyfish like Gussie. That is what astounds me, Jeeves—that it should be Gussie who has been putting in all this heavy gesture-making stuff.”
    “You must remember, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle is in a somewhat inflamed cerebral condition.”
    “That’s true. A bit above par at the moment, as it were?”
    “Exactly, sir.”
    “Well, I’ll tell you one thing—he’ll be in a jolly sight more inflamed cerebral condition if Tuppy gets hold of him…. What’s the time?”
    “Just on eight o’clock, sir.”
    “Then Tuppy has been chasing him for two hours and a half. We must save the unfortunate blighter, Jeeves.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “A human life is a human life, what?”
    “Exceedingly true, sir.”
    “The first thing, then, is to find him. After that we can discuss plans and schemes. Go forth, Jeeves, and scour the neighbourhood.”
    “It will not be necessary, sir. If you will glance behind you, you will see Mr. Fink-Nottle coming out from beneath your bed.”
    And, by Jove, he was absolutely right.
    There was Gussie, emerging as stated. He was covered with fluff and looked like a tortoise popping forth for a bit of a breather.
    “Gussie!” I said.
    “Jeeves,” said Gussie.
    “Sir?” said Jeeves.
    “Is that door locked, Jeeves?”
    “No, sir, but I will attend to the matter immediately.”
    Gussie sat down on the bed, and I thought for a moment that he was going to be in the mode by burying his face in his hands. However, he merely brushed a dead spider from his brow.
    “Have you locked the door, Jeeves?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Because you can never tell that that ghastly Glossop may not take it into his head to come–-”
    The word “back” froze on his lips. He hadn’t got any further than a _b_-ish sound, when the handle of the door began to twist and rattle. He sprang from the bed, and for an instant stood looking exactly like a picture my Aunt Agatha has in her dining-room—The Stag at Bay—Landseer. Then he made a dive for the cupboard and was inside it before one really got on to it that he had started leaping. I have seen fellows late for the 9.15 move less nippily.
    I shot a glance at Jeeves. He allowed his right eyebrow to flicker slightly, which is as near as he ever gets to a display of the emotions.
    “Hullo?” I yipped.
    “Let me in, blast you!” responded Tuppy’s voice from without. “Who locked this door?”
    I consulted Jeeves once more in the language of the eyebrow. He raised one of his. I raised one of mine. He raised his other. I raised my other. Then we both raised both. Finally, there seeming no other policy to pursue, I flung wide the gates and Tuppy came shooting in.
    “Now what?” I said, as nonchalantly as I could manage.
    “Why was the door locked?” demanded Tuppy.
    I was in pretty good eyebrow-raising form by now, so I gave him a touch of it.
    “Is one to have no privacy, Glossop?” I said coldly. “I instructed Jeeves to lock the door because I was about to disrobe.”
    “A likely story!” said Tuppy, and I’m not sure he didn’t add “Forsooth!” “You needn’t try to make me believe that you’re afraid people are going to run excursion trains to see you in your underwear. You locked that door because you’ve got the snake Fink-Nottle concealed in here. I suspected it the moment I’d left, and I decided to come back and investigate. I’m going to search this room from end to end. I believe he’s in that cupboard…. What’s in this cupboard?”
    “Just clothes,” I said, having another stab at the nonchalant, though extremely dubious as to whether it would come off. “The usual wardrobe of the English gentleman paying a country-house