The inimitable Jeeves

from a branch of this latter form of mania that I should be disposed to imagine that my assailant was suffering. I can only trust that he will be placed under proper control before he - Mr Wooster, there is a cat close at hand! It is not in the street! The mewing appears to come from the adjoining room.’

    This time I had to admit there was no doubt about it. There was a distinct sound of mewing coming from the next room. I punched the bell for Jeeves, who drifted in and stood waiting with an air of respectful devotion.
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Oh, Jeeves,’ I said. ‘Cats! What about it? Are there any cats in the flat?’
    ‘Only the three in your bedroom, sir.’
    ‘What!’
    ‘Cats in his bedroom!’ I heard Sir Roderick whisper in a kind of stricken way, and his eyes hit me amidships like a couple of bullets.
    ‘What do you mean,’ I said, ‘only the three in my bedroom?’
    ‘The black one, the tabby and the small lemon-coloured animal, sir.’
    ‘What on earth - ?’
    I charged round the table in the direction of the door. Unfortunately, Sir Roderick had just decided to edge in that direction himself, with the result that we collided in the doorway with a good deal of force, and staggered out into the hall together. He came smartly out of the clinch and grabbed an umbrella from the rack.
    ‘Stand back!’ he shouted, waving it overhead. ‘Stand back, sir! I am armed!’
    It seemed to me that the moment had come to be soothing.
    ‘Awfully sorry I barged into you,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t have had it happen for worlds. I was just dashing out to have a look into things.’
    He appeared a trifle reassured, and lowered the umbrella. But just then the most frightful shindy started in the bedroom. It sounded as though all the cats in London, assisted by delegates from outlying suburbs, had got together to settle their differences once for aU. A sort of augmented orchestra of cats.
    ‘This noise is unendurable,’ yelled Sir Roderick. ‘I cannot hear myself speak.’
    ‘I fancy, sir,’ said Jeeves respectfully, ‘that the animals may have become somewhat exhilarated as the result of having discovered the fish under Mr Wooster’s bed.’
    The old boy tottered.
    ‘Fish! Did I hear you rightly?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Did you say that there was a fish under Mr Wooster’s bed?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Sir Roderick gave a low moan, and reached for his hat and stick.
    ‘You aren’t going?’ I said.
    ‘Mr Wooster, I am going! I prefer to spend my leisure time in less eccentric society.’
    ‘But I say. Here, I must come with you. I’m sure the whole business can be explained. Jeeves, my hat.’
    Jeeves rallied round. I took the hat from him and shoved it on my head.
    ‘Good heavens!’
    Beastly shock it was! The bally thing had absolutely engulfed me, if you know what I mean. Even as I was putting it on I got a sort of impression that it was a trifle roomy; and no sooner had I let it go than it settled down over my ears like a kind of extinguisher.
    ‘I say! This isn’t my hat!’
    ‘It is my hat!’ said Sir Roderick in about the coldest, nastiest voice I’d ever heard. ‘The hat which was stolen from me this morning as I drove in my car.’
    ‘But-‘
    I suppose Napoleon or somebody like that would have been equal to the situation, but I’m bound to say it was too much for me. I just stood there goggling in a sort of coma, while the old boy lifted the hat off me and turned to Jeeves.
    ‘I should be glad, my man,’ he said, ‘if you would accompany me a few yards down the street. I wish to ask you some questions.’
    ‘Very good, sir.’
    ‘Here, but, I say- !’ I began, but he left me standing. He stalked out, followed by Jeeves. And at that moment the row in the bedroom started again, louder than ever.
    I was about fed up with the whole thing. I mean, cats in your bedroom - a bit thick, what? I didn’t know how the dickens they had got in, but I was jolly well resolved that they weren’t going to stay picnicking there any longer. I flung open the door. I got a momentary flash of about a hundred and fifteen cats of all sizes and colours scrapping in the middle of the room, and then they all shot past me with a rush and out of the front door; and all that was left of the mob-scene was the head of a whacking big fish, lying on the carpet and staring up at me in a rather austere sort of way, as if it wanted a written explanation and apology.
    There was something about the thing’s expression that