“Jeeves,” I said, “you are certainly a life-saver!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Nothing would have convinced my Aunt Agatha that I hadn’t lured that
blighter into riotous living.”
“I fancy you are right, sir.”
I champed my egg for a bit. I was most awfully moved, don’t you know,
by the way Jeeves had rallied round. Something seemed to tell me that
this was an occasion that called for rich rewards. For a moment I
hesitated. Then I made up my mind.
“Jeeves!”
“Sir?”
“That pink tie!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Burn it!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And, Jeeves!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take a taxi and get me that Longacre hat, as worn by John Drew!”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
I felt most awfully braced. I felt as if the clouds had rolled away and
all was as it used to be. I felt like one of those chappies in the
novels who calls off the fight with his wife in the last chapter and
decides to forget and forgive. I felt I wanted to do all sorts of other
things to show Jeeves that I appreciated him.
“Jeeves,” I said, “it isn’t enough. Is there anything else you would
like?”
“Yes, sir. If I may make the suggestion—fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars?”
“It will enable me to pay a debt of honour, sir. I owe it to his
lordship.”
“You owe Lord Pershore fifty dollars?”
“Yes, sir. I happened to meet him in the street the night his lordship
was arrested. I had been thinking a good deal about the most suitable
method of inducing him to abandon his mode of living, sir. His lordship
was a little over-excited at the time and I fancy that he mistook me
for a friend of his. At any rate when I took the liberty of wagering
him fifty dollars that he would not punch a passing policeman in the
eye, he accepted the bet very cordially and won it.”