Read Right Ho, Jeeves for Free Online Page A

against the pillows had become a better, stronger, finer Bertram.
    “Thank you, Jeeves,” I said.
    “Not at all, sir.”
    “That touched the exact spot. I am now able to cope with life’s problems.”
    “I am gratified to hear it, sir.”
    “What madness not to have had one of those before tackling Aunt Dahlia! However, too late to worry about that now. Tell me of Gussie. How did he make out at the fancy-dress ball?”
    “He did not arrive at the fancy-dress ball, sir.”
    I looked at him a bit austerely.
    “Jeeves,” I said, “I admit that after that pick-me-up of yours I feel better, but don’t try me too high. Don’t stand by my sick bed talking absolute rot. We shot Gussie into a cab and he started forth, headed for wherever this fancy-dress ball was. He must have arrived.”
    “No, sir. As I gather from Mr. Fink-Nottle, he entered the cab convinced in his mind that the entertainment to which he had been invited was to be held at No. 17, Suffolk Square, whereas the actual rendezvous was No. 71, Norfolk Terrace. These aberrations of memory are not uncommon with those who, like Mr. Fink-Nottle, belong essentially to what one might call the dreamer-type.”
    “One might also call it the fatheaded type.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Well?”
    “On reaching No. 17, Suffolk Square, Mr. Fink-Nottle endeavoured to produce money to pay the fare.”
    “What stopped him?”
    “The fact that he had no money, sir. He discovered that he had left it, together with his ticket of invitation, on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber in the house of his uncle, where he was residing. Bidding the cabman to wait, accordingly, he rang the door-bell, and when the butler appeared, requested him to pay the cab, adding that it was all right, as he was one of the guests invited to the dance. The butler then disclaimed all knowledge of a dance on the premises.”
    “And declined to unbelt?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Upon which–-”
    “Mr. Fink-Nottle directed the cabman to drive him back to his uncle’s residence.”
    “Well, why wasn’t that the happy ending? All he had to do was go in, collect cash and ticket, and there he would have been, on velvet.”
    “I should have mentioned, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle had also left his latchkey on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber.”
    “He could have rung the bell.”
    “He did ring the bell, sir, for some fifteen minutes. At the expiration of that period he recalled that he had given permission to the caretaker—the house was officially closed and all the staff on holiday—to visitchis sailor son at Portsmouth.”
    “Golly, Jeeves!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “These dreamer types do live, don’t they?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What happened then?”
    “Mr. Fink-Nottle appears to have realized at this point that his position as regards the cabman had become equivocal. The figures on the clock had already reached a substantial sum, and he was not in a position to meet his obligations.”
    “He could have explained.”
    “You cannot explain to cabmen, sir. On endeavouring to do so, he found the fellow sceptical of his bona fides.”
    “I should have legged it.”
    “That is the policy which appears to have commended itself to Mr. Fink-Nottle. He darted rapidly away, and the cabman, endeavouring to detain him, snatched at his overcoat. Mr. Fink-Nottle contrived to extricate himself from the coat, and it would seem that his appearance in the masquerade costume beneath it came as something of a shock to the cabman. Mr. Fink-Nottle informs me that he heard a species of whistling gasp, and, looking round, observed the man crouching against the railings with his hands over his face. Mr. Fink-Nottle thinks he was praying. No doubt an uneducated, superstitious fellow, sir. Possibly a drinker.”
    “Well, if he hadn’t been one before, I’ll bet he started being one shortly afterwards. I expect he could scarcely wait for the pubs to open.”
    “Very possibly, in the circumstances he might have found