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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
149
This,
it
appeared,
had
taken
it
out
of
him
a
bit,
and
I
was
not
displeased.
I
was
feeling
the
strain
myself,
and
welcomed
a
lull.
“It
absolutely
beats
me
why
you
don’t
believe
it,”
I
said.
“You
know
we’ve
been
pals
for
years.
You
must
be
aware
that,
except
at
the
moment
when
you
caused
me
to
do
a
nose
dive
into
the
Drones’
swimming
bath,
an
incident
which
I
long
since
decided
to
put
out
of
my
mind
and
let
the
dead
past
bury
its
dead
about,
if
you
follow
what
I
mean--except
on
that
one
occasion,
as
I
say,
I
have
always
regarded
you
with
the
utmost
esteem.
Why,
then,
if
not
for
the
motives
I
have
outlined,
should
I
knock
you
to
Angela?
Answer
me
that.
Be
very
careful.”
“What
do
you
mean,
be
very
careful?”
Well,
as
a
matter
of
fact,
I
didn’t
quite
know
myself.
It
was
what
the
magistrate
had
said
to
me
on
the
occasion
when
I
stood
in
the
dock
as
Eustace
Plimsoll,
of
The
Laburnums:
and
as
it
had
impressed
me
a
good
deal
at
the
time,
I
just
bunged
it
in
now
by
way
of
giving
the
conversation
a
tone.
“All
right.
Never
mind
about
being
careful,
then.
Just
answer
me
that
question.
Why,
if
I
had
not
your
interests
sincerely
at
heart,
should
I
have
ticked
you
off,
as
stated?”
A
sharp
spasm
shook
him
from
base
to
apex.
The
beetle,
which,
during
the
recent
exchanges,
had
been
clinging
to
his
head,
hoping
for
the
best,
gave
it
up
at
this
and
resigned
office.
It
shot
off
and
was
swallowed
in
the
night.
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