"Thank you, sir."
"But what beats me is why he ever came here. What made him think that I
had sneaked McIntosh away?"
"I took the liberty of recommending Miss Wickham to tell Mr. Blumenfeld
that she had observed you removing the animal from his suite, sir.
The point which you raised, regarding the possibility of her being
suspected of complicity in the affair, had not escaped me. It seemed
to me that this would establish her solidly in Mr. Blumenfeld's good
opinion."
"I see. Risky, of course, but possibly justified. Yes, on the whole,
justified. What's that you've got there?"
"A five-pound note, sir."
"Ah, the one I gave you?"
"No, sir. One Mr. Blumenfeld gave me."
"Eh? Why did he give you a fiver?"
"He very kindly presented it to me on my handing him the dog, sir."
"You don't mean to say----?"
"Not McIntosh, sir. McIntosh is at present in my bedroom. This was
another animal of the same species which I purchased during your
absence at the shop in Bond Street. Except to the eye of love, one
Aberdeen terrier looks very much like another Aberdeen terrier,
sir. Mr. Blumenfeld, I am happy to say, did not detect the innocent
subterfuge."
"Jeeves," I said, and I am not ashamed to confess that there was a spot
of chokiness in the voice, "there is none like you, none."
"Thank you very much, sir."
"Owing solely to the fact that your head sticks out at the back, thus
enabling you to do about twice as much bright thinking in any given
time as any other two men in existence, happiness, you might say,
reigns supreme. I am on velvet. Aunt Agatha is on velvet, the Wickhams,
mother and daughter, are on velvet, the Blumenfelds, father and son,
are on velvet. As far as the eye can reach, a solid mass of humanity,
owing to you, all on velvet.
"A fiver is not sufficient, Jeeves. If the world thought that Bertram
Wooster considered a measly five pounds an adequate reward for such
services as yours, I should never hold my head up again. Have another!"
"Thank you, sir."
"And one more."
"Thank you very much, sir."
"And a third for luck!"
"Really, sir, I am exceedingly obliged. Excuse me, sir, I fancy I heard
the telephone."
He pushed out into the hall, and I heard him doing a good deal of the
"Yes, madam," "Certainly, madam," stuff. He came back.
"Mrs. Spenser Gregson, sir."
"Aunt Agatha?"
"Yes, sir. Speaking from Victoria Station. She desires to communicate
with you with reference to the dog McIntosh. I gather that she wishes
to hear from your own lips that all is well with the little fellow,
sir."
I straightened the tie. I pulled down the waistcoat. I shot the cuffs.
I felt absolutely all-righto.
"Lead me to her," I said.