Right Ho, Jeeves

“Yes, sir.” “A sort of ‘Oh, right-ho, please yourself, but if you don’t want me, there are plenty who do.’” “Precisely, sir. My Cousin George----” “Never mind about your Cousin George, Jeeves.” “Very good, sir.” “Keep him for the long winter evenings, what?” “Just as you wish, sir.” “And, anyway, I bet your Cousin George wasn’t a shrinking, non-goose-bo-ing jellyfish like Gussie. That is what astounds me, Jeeves--that it should be Gussie who has been putting in all this heavy gesture-making stuff.” “You must remember, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle is in a somewhat inflamed cerebral condition.” “That’s true. A bit above par at the moment, as it were?” “Exactly, sir.” “Well, I’ll tell you one thing--he’ll be in a jolly sight more inflamed cerebral condition if Tuppy gets hold of him.... What’s the time?” “Just on eight o’clock, sir.” “Then Tuppy has been chasing him for two hours and a half. We must save the unfortunate blighter, Jeeves.” “Yes, sir.” “A human life is a human life, what?” “Exceedingly true, sir.” “The first thing, then, is to find him. After that we can discuss plans and schemes. Go forth, Jeeves, and scour the neighbourhood.” “It will not be necessary, sir. If you will glance behind you, you will see Mr. Fink-Nottle coming out from beneath your bed.” And, by Jove, he was absolutely right. There was Gussie, emerging as stated. He was covered with fluff and looked like a tortoise popping forth for a bit of a breather. “Gussie!” I said.