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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
198
“Chasing
him?”
“All
over
the
place.
I
want
to
pull
his
head
off.”
“I
see.
Quite.”
“You
haven’t
seen
him,
by
any
chance?”
“No.”
“Well,
if
you
do,
say
goodbye
to
him
quickly
and
put
in
your
order
for
lilies....
Oh,
Jeeves.”
“Sir?”
I
hadn’t
heard
the
door
open,
but
the
man
was
on
the
spot
once
more.
My
private
belief,
as
I
think
I
have
mentioned
before,
is
that
Jeeves
doesn’t
have
to
open
doors.
He’s
like
one
of
those
birds
in
India
who
bung
their
astral
bodies
about--the
chaps,
I
mean,
who
having
gone
into
thin
air
in
Bombay,
reassemble
the
parts
and
appear
two
minutes
later
in
Calcutta.
Only
some
such
theory
will
account
for
the
fact
that
he’s
not
there
one
moment
and
is
there
the
next.
He
just
seems
to
float
from
Spot
A
to
Spot
B
like
some
form
of
gas.
“Have
you
seen
Mr.
Fink-Nottle,
Jeeves?”
“No,
sir.”
“I’m
going
to
murder
him.”
“Very
good,
sir.”
Tuppy
withdrew,
banging
the
door
behind
him,
and
I
put
Jeeves
abreast.
“Jeeves,”
I
said,
“do
you
know
what?
Mr.
Fink-Nottle
is
engaged
to
my
Cousin
Angela.”
“Indeed,
sir?”
“Well,
how
about
it?
Do
you
grasp
the
psychology?
Does
it
make
sense?
Only
a
few
hours
ago
he
was
engaged
to
Miss
Bassett.”
“Gentlemen
who
have
been
discarded
by
one
young
lady
are
often
apt
to
attach
themselves
without
delay
to
another,
sir.
It
is
what
is
known
as
a
gesture.”
I
began
to
grasp.
“I
see
what
you
mean.
Defiant
stuff.”
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