"I have always maintained, if you will remember, sir," he said, when I
had finished, "that Miss Wickham, though a charming young lady----"
"Yes, yes; never mind about that. What are we going to do? That's the
point. Aunt Agatha is due back between the hours of six and seven. She
will find herself short one Aberdeen terrier. And as she will probably
have been considerably seasick all the way over, you will readily
perceive, Jeeves, that when I break the news that the dog has been
given away to a total stranger I shall find her in no mood of gentle
charity."
"I see, sir. Most disturbing."
"What did you say it was?"
"Most disturbing, sir."
I snorted a trifle. "Oh?" I said. "And I suppose, if you had been in
San Francisco when the earthquake started, you would just have lifted
up your finger and said, 'Tweet, tweet! Shush, shush! Now, now! Come,
come!'
"The English language, they used to tell me at school, is the richest
in the world, crammed full from end to end with about a million red-hot
adjectives. Yet the only one you can find to describe this ghastly
business is the adjective 'disturbing.' It is not disturbing, Jeeves.
It is--what's the word I want? Several syllables, beginning with _c_."
"Cataclysmal, sir?"
"I shouldn't wonder. Well, what's to be done?"
"I will bring you a whisky-and-soda, sir."
"What's the good of that?"
"It will refresh you, sir. And in the meantime, if it is your wish, I
will give the matter consideration."
"Carry on."
"Very good, sir. I assume that it is not your desire to do anything
that may in any way jeopardize the cordial relations which now exist
between Miss Wickham and Mr. and Master Blumenfeld?"
"Eh?"
"You would not, for example, contemplate proceeding to the Savoy Hotel
and demanding the return of the dog?"
It was a tempting thought, but I shook the old onion firmly. There are
things which a Wooster can do and things which, if you follow me, a
Wooster cannot do.
The procedure which he had indicated would undoubtedly have brought
home the bacon, but the thwarted kid would have been bound to turn
nasty and change his mind about the play. And, while I didn't think
that any drama written by Bobbie's mother was likely to do the
theatregoing public any good, I couldn't dash the cup of happiness, so
to speak, from the blighted girl's lips, as it were. _Noblesse oblige_
about sums the thing up.
"No, Jeeves," I said. "But if you can think of some way by which I
can oil privily into the suite and sneak the animal out of it without
causing any hard feelings, spill it."
"I will endeavour to do so, sir."
"Snap into it, then, without delay. They say fish are good for the
brain. Have a go at the sardines and come back and report."
"Very good, sir."
It was about ten minutes later that he entered the presence once more.
"I fancy, sir----"
"Yes, Jeeves?"
"I rather fancy, sir, that I have discovered a plan of action."
"Or scheme?"
"Or scheme, sir. A plan of action or scheme which will meet the
situation. If I understand you rightly, sir, Mr. and Master Blumenfeld
have attended a motion-picture performance?"
"Correct."
"In which case, they should not return to the hotel before
five-fifteen?"
"Correct once more. Miss Wickham is scheduled to blow in at five-thirty
to sign the contract."
"The suite, therefore, is at present unoccupied."
"Except for McIntosh."
"Except for McIntosh, sir. Everything, accordingly, must depend on
whether Mr. Blumenfeld left instructions that, in the event of her
arriving before he did, Miss Wickham was to be shown straight up to the
suite, to await his return."
"Why does everything depend on that?"
"Should he have done so, sir, the matter becomes quite simple. All that
is necessary is that Miss Wickham shall present herself at the hotel at
five o'clock. She will go up to the suite. You will also have arrived
at the hotel at five, sir, and will have made your way to the corridor
outside the suite. If Mr. and Master Blumenfeld have not returned, Miss
Wickham will open the door and come out and you will go in, secure the
dog, and take your departure."