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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
238
A
disturbing
picture,
you
will
admit.
It
was
with
a
rather
imperious
gesture
that
I
summoned
Jeeves
to
my
side.
“Well,
Jeeves?”
“Sir?”
I
eyed
him
sternly.
“Sir?”
forsooth!
“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.
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