The inimitable Jeeves

you’re here. May the best man win!’
    ‘Yes, but dash it all!’ I managed to put in at this point. ‘What’s the idea? Where do you think you’re going to stay if you stick on in London?’
    ‘Why, here,’ said Eustace, surprised.
    ‘Where else?’ said Claude, raising his eyebrows.
    ‘You won’t object to putting us up, Bertie?’ said Eustace.
    ‘Not a sportsman like you,’ said Claude.
    ‘But, you silly asses, suppose Aunt Agatha finds out that I’m hiding you when you ought to be in South Africa? Where do I get off?’
    ‘Where does he get off?’ Claude asked Eustace.
    ‘Oh, I expect he’ll manage somehow,’ said Eustace to Claude.
    ‘Of course,’ said Claude, quite cheered up. * He’ll manage.’
    ‘Rather!’ said Eustace. ‘A resourceful chap like Bertie! Of course he will.’
    ‘And now,’ said Claude, shelving the subject, ‘what about that bite of lunch we were discussing a moment ago, Bertie? That stuff good old Jeeves slipped into me just now has given me what you might call an appetite. Something in the nature of six chops and a batter pudding would about meet the case, I think.’
    I suppose every chappie in the world has black periods in his life to which he can’t look back without the smouldering eye and the silent shudder. Some coves, if you can judge by the novels you read nowadays, have them practically all the time; but, what with enjoying a sizeable private income and a topping digestion, I’m bound to say it isn’t very often I find my own existence getting a flat tyre. That’s why this particular epoch is one that I don’t think about more often than I can help. For the days that followed the unexpected resurrection of the blighted twins were so absolutely foul that the old nerves began to stick out of my body a foot long and curling at the ends. All of a twitter, believe me. I imagine the fact of the matter is that we Woosters are so frightfully honest and open and all that, that it gives us the pip to have to deceive.
    All was quiet along the Potomac for about twenty-four hours, and then Aunt Agatha trickled in to have a chat. Twenty minutes earlier and she would have found the twins gaily shoving themselves outside a couple of rashers and an egg. She sank into a chair, and I could see that she was not in her usual sunny spirits.
    ‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘I am uneasy.’
    So was I. I didn’t know how long she intended to stop, or when the twins were coming back.
    ‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘if I took too harsh a view towards Claude and Eustace.’
    ‘You couldn’t.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I - er - mean it would be so unlike you to be harsh to anybody, Aunt Agatha.’ And not bad, either. I mean, quick - like that -without thinking. It pleased the old relative, and she looked at me with slightly less loathing than she usually does.
    ‘It is nice of you to say that, Bertie, but what I was thinking was, are they safer
    ‘Are they what?
    It seemed such a rummy adjective to apply to the twins, they being about as innocuous as a couple of sprightly young tarantulas.
    ‘Do you think all is well with them?’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    Aunt Agatha eyed me almost wistfully.
    ‘Has it ever occurred to you, Bertie,’ she said, ‘that your Uncle George may be psychic?’
    She seemed to me to be changing the subject. ‘Psychic?’
    ‘Do you think it is possible that he could see things not visible to the normal eye?’
    I thought it dashed possible, if not probable. I don’t know if you’ve ever met my Uncle George. He’s a festive old egg who wanders from club to club continually having a couple with other festive old eggs. When he heaves in sight, waiters brace themselves up and the wine-steward toys with his corkscrew. It was my Uncle George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought.
    ‘Your Uncle George was dining with me last night, and he was quite shaken. He declares that, while on his way from the Devonshire Club to Boodle’s he suddenly saw the phantasm of Eustace.’
    ‘The what of Eustace?’
    ‘The phantasm. The wraith. It was so clear that he thought for an instant that it was Eustace himself. The figure vanished round a corner, and when Uncle George got there nothing was to be seen. It is all very queer and disturbing. It had a marked effect on poor George. All through dinner he touched nothing but barley-water, and his manner was quite disturbed. You do think those poor, dear boys are safe,