"Professor Derrick has had an unfortunate boating accident," I
explained.
"And Mr. Garnet heroically dived in, in all his clothes, and saved me
life," broke in the professor. "A hero, sir. _A-choo!_"
"You're catching cold, old horse," said Ukridge, all friendliness and
concern, his little differences with the professor having vanished
like thawed snow. "This'll never do. Come upstairs and get into
something of Garnet's. My own toggery wouldn't fit, what? Come along,
come along. I'll get you some hot water. Mrs. Beale--Mrs. _Beale_! We
want a large can of hot water. At once. What? Yes, immediately. What?
Very well, then, as soon as you can. Now, then, Garny, my boy, out
with the duds. What do you think of this, now, professor? A sweetly
pretty thing in gray flannel. Here's a shirt. Get out of that wet
toggery, and Mrs. Beale shall dry it. Don't attempt to tell me about
it till you've changed. Socks? Socks forward. Show socks. Here you
are. Coat? Try this blazer. That's right. That's right."
He bustled about till the professor was clothed, then marched him
downstairs and gave him a cigar.
"Now, what's all this? What happened?"
The professor explained. He was severe in his narration upon the
unlucky Mr. Hawk.
"I was fishing, Mr. Ukridge, with me back turned, when I felt the boat
rock violently from one side to the other to such an extent that I
nearly lost me equilibrium. And then the boat upset. The man's a fool,
sir. I could not see what had happened, my back being turned, as I
say."
"Garnet must have seen. What happened, Marmaduke?"