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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
196
“Then
what?”
“This
Bassett
business.”
“What
Bassett
business?”
“Bertie,”
said
Tuppy,
“when
you
told
me
last
night
that
you
were
in
love
with
Madeline
Bassett,
I
gave
you
the
impression
that
I
believed
you,
but
I
didn’t.
The
thing
seemed
too
incredible.
However,
since
then
I
have
made
inquiries,
and
the
facts
appear
to
square
with
your
statement.
I
have
now
come
to
apologize
for
doubting
you.”
“Made
inquiries?”
“I
asked
her
if
you
had
proposed
to
her,
and
she
said,
yes,
you
had.”
“Tuppy!
You
didn’t?”
“I
did.”
“Have
you
no
delicacy,
no
proper
feeling?”
“No.”
“Oh?
Well,
right-ho,
of
course,
but
I
think
you
ought
to
have.”
“Delicacy
be
dashed.
I
wanted
to
be
certain
that
it
was
not
you
who
stole
Angela
from
me.
I
now
know
it
wasn’t.”
So
long
as
he
knew
that,
I
didn’t
so
much
mind
him
having
no
delicacy.
“Ah,”
I
said.
“Well,
that’s
fine.
Hold
that
thought.”
“I
have
found
out
who
it
was.”
“What?”
He
stood
brooding
for
a
moment.
His
eyes
were
smouldering
with
a
dull
fire.
His
jaw
stuck
out
like
the
back
of
Jeeves’s
head.
“Bertie,”
he
said,
“do
you
remember
what
I
swore
I
would
do
to
the
chap
who
stole
Angela
from
me?”
“As
nearly
as
I
recall,
you
planned
to
pull
him
inside
out----”
“--and
make
him
swallow
himself.
Correct.
The
programme
still
holds
good.”
“But,
Tuppy,
I
keep
assuring
you,
as
a
competent
eyewitness,
that
nobody
snitched
Angela
from
you
during
that
Cannes
trip.”
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