Right Ho, Jeeves

She seemed about to speak, but I checked her with a gesture. “It is true that in the past I have sometimes seen fit to seek Jeeves’s advice. It is possible that in the future I may seek it again. But I claim the right to have a pop at these problems, as they arise, in person, without having everybody behave as if Jeeves was the only onion in the hash. I sometimes feel that Jeeves, though admittedly not unsuccessful in the past, has been lucky rather than gifted.” “Have you and Jeeves had a row?” “Nothing of the kind.” “You seem to have it in for him.” “Not at all.” And yet I must admit that there was a modicum of truth in what she said. I had been feeling pretty austere about the man all day, and I’ll tell you why. You remember that he caught that 12.45 train with the luggage, while I remained on in order to keep a luncheon engagement. Well, just before I started out to the tryst, I was pottering about the flat, and suddenly--I don’t know what put the suspicion into my head, possibly the fellow’s manner had been furtive--something seemed to whisper to me to go and have a look in the wardrobe. And it was as I had suspected. There was the mess-jacket still on its hanger. The hound hadn’t packed it. Well, as anybody at the Drones will tell you, Bertram Wooster is a pretty hard chap to outgeneral. I shoved the thing in a brown-paper parcel and put it in the back of the car, and it was on a chair in the hall now. But that didn’t alter the fact that Jeeves had attempted to do the dirty on me, and I suppose a certain what-d’you-call-it had crept into my manner during the above remarks.