“It’s no good saying ‘Sir?’ Jeeves. Look round you. See for yourself.
Your scheme has proved a bust.”
“Certainly it would appear that matters have not arranged themselves
quite as we anticipated, sir.”
“We?”
“As I had anticipated, sir.”
“That’s more like it. Didn’t I tell you it would be a flop?”
“I remember that you did seem dubious, sir.”
“Dubious is no word for it, Jeeves. I hadn’t a scrap of faith in the
idea from the start. When you first mooted it, I said it was rotten,
and I was right. I’m not blaming you, Jeeves. It is not your fault that
you have sprained your brain. But after this--forgive me if I hurt your
feelings, Jeeves----I shall know better than to allow you to handle any
but the simplest and most elementary problems. It is best to be candid
about this, don’t you think? Kindest to be frank and straightforward?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“I mean, the surgeon’s knife, what?”
“Precisely, sir.”
“I consider----”
“If you will pardon me for interrupting you, sir, I fancy Mrs. Travers
is endeavouring to attract your attention.”
And at this moment a ringing “Hoy!” which could have proceeded only
from the relative in question, assured me that his view was correct.
“Just step this way a moment, Attila, if you don’t mind,” boomed that
well-known--and under certain conditions, well-loved--voice, and I
moved over.
I was not feeling unmixedly at my ease. For the first time it was
beginning to steal upon me that I had not prepared a really good story
in support of my questionable behaviour in ringing fire bells at such
an hour, and I have known Aunt Dahlia to express herself with a hearty
freedom upon far smaller provocation.
She exhibited, however, no signs of violence. More a sort of frozen
calm, if you know what I mean. You could see that she was a woman who
had suffered.
“Well, Bertie, dear,” she said, “here we all are.”
“Quite,” I replied guardedly.
“Nobody missing, is there?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Splendid. So much healthier for us out in the open like this than
frowsting in bed. I had just dropped off when you did your bell-ringing
act. For it was you, my sweet child, who rang that bell, was it not?”
“I did ring the bell, yes.”
“Any particular reason, or just a whim?”
“I thought there was a fire.”
“What gave you that impression, dear?”
“I thought I saw flames.”
“Where, darling? Tell Aunt Dahlia.”
“In one of the windows.”
“I see. So we have all been dragged out of bed and scared rigid because
you have been seeing things.”
Here Uncle Tom made a noise like a cork coming out of a bottle, and
Anatole, whose moustache had hit a new low, said something about “some
apes” and, if I am not mistaken, a “_rogommier_”--whatever that is.
“I admit I was mistaken. I am sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, ducky. Can’t you see how pleased we all are? What
were you doing out here, anyway?”
“Just taking a stroll.”
“I see. And are you proposing to continue your stroll?”
“No, I think I’ll go in now.”
“That’s fine. Because I was thinking of going in, too, and I don’t
believe I could sleep knowing you were out here giving rein to that
powerful imagination of yours. The next thing that would happen
would be that you would think you saw a pink elephant sitting on the
drawing-room window-sill and start throwing bricks at it.... Well, come
on, Tom, the entertainment seems to be over.... But wait. The newt king
wishes a word with us.... Yes, Mr. Fink-Nottle?”
Gussie, as he joined our little group, seemed upset about something.
“I say!”
“Say on, Augustus.”
“I say, what are we going to do?”
“Speaking for myself, I intend to return to bed.”
“But the door’s shut.”
“What door?”
“The front door. Somebody must have shut it.”
“Then I shall open it.”
“But it won’t open.”
“Then I shall try another door.”
“But all the other doors are shut.”
“What? Who shut them?”
“I don’t know.”