Thank You, Jeeves

way to the ground floor like a sack of coals.

Pauline Stoker ran to the banisters and looked over.

'Are you hurt?' she cried.

'Yes,' yelled Chuffy.

'Good,' cried Pauline.

She came back into the room, and the front door slammed like the bursting of an overwrought heart.

10 ANOTHER VISITOR

I drew a deepish breath. With the departure of the male half of the sketch a certain strain seemed to have gone out of the atmosphere. Excellent companion though I had always found him in the past, Chuffy had not shown himself at his chummiest during the recent scene, with the result that for some little time I had been feeling rather like Daniel in the lions' den.

Pauline was panting somewhat. Not exactly snorting, but coming very near to what you might call the borderland of the snort. Her eyes were hard and bright. Deeply moved. She picked up her bathing suit.

'Push off, Bertie,' she said.

I had been hoping for a quiet chat, in the course of which we would review the situation, touching on this point and on that, and strive to ascertain what to do for the best.

'But listen....'

'I want to change.'

'Change what?'

'Put on my swimming suit.'

I could not follow her.

'Why?'

'Because I am going to swim.'

'Swim?'

'Swim.'

I stared.

'You aren't going back to the yacht?'

'I am going back to the yacht.'

'But I wanted to talk about Chuffy.'

'I never wish to hear his name mentioned again.'

It seemed time to be the wise old mediator.

'Oh, come!'

'Well?'

'When I say 'Oh, come!'' I explained, 'I mean surely you don't intend to give the poor blighter the permanent air on account of a trifling lovers' tiff?'

She looked at me in rather a peculiar manner.

'Would you mind repeating that? Just the last three words.'

'Trifling lovers' tiff?'

She breathed heavily, and for a moment I experienced a return of that lions' den sensation.

'I wasn't sure I had caught them correctly,' she said.

'I mean to say you get (a) a girl and (b) a bloke and stir up their generous natures, and the result is that each says lots of things she or he doesn't mean.'

'Oh? Well, let me tell you I meant every word I said. I told him I never wanted to speak to him again. I don't. I told him I hated him. I do. I called him a pig. He is.'

'Now, that's rummy about Chuffy's pigs. I had no notion he kept them.'

'Why not? Birds of a feather.'

There seemed nothing much more to say about pigs.

'Aren't you a bit hard?'

'Am I?'

'And rather rough on Chuffy?'

'Am I?'

'You wouldn't say his attitude was excusable?'

'I would not.'

'Must have been a shock for the poor old chap, I mean, barging in and finding you here.'

'Bertie.'

'Hallo?'

'Ever been hit over the head with a chair?'

'No.'

'Well, you soon may be.'

I began to see she was in difficult mood.

'Oh, well!'

'Does that mean the same as 'Oh, come!'?'

'No. All I was driving at was that it seems a pity. Two loving hearts sundered for ever – bingo!'

'Yes?'

'Still, if that's the way you feel, well, that's the way you feel, what?'

'Yes.'

'We now come to this idea of swimming home. Potty, it strikes me as.'

'There's nothing to keep me here now, is there?'

'No. But the midnight swim.... You're going to find it pretty cold.'

'And wet. I don't care.'

'And how are you going to get aboard?'

'I'll get aboard. I can climb up by the thing they hang the anchor from. I've done it before. So will you remove yourself and let me change.'

I went out on to the landing. And presently she emerged in the bathing suit.

'You needn't see me out.'

'Of course I will, if you're really going.'

'I'm going, all right.'

'Well, if you must.'

Outside the front door the air seemed nippier than ever. The mere thought of plunging into the harbour gave me the shivers. But it had no effect on her. She slipped off into the darkness without a word, and I went upstairs to bed.

You might have thought that after garages and potting sheds the fact that I was in a bed would have resulted in instant slumber. But no. I couldn't get off. The more I tried, the more I found the mind turning to what you might call the tragedy in which I had so recently participated. I don't mind admitting that my heart ached for Chuffy. It also ached for Pauline. It ached for both of them.

I mean to say, consider the facts. Two thoroughly sound eggs, destined for each other, you might almost say, through all eternity, giving each other the bird like this for no reason whatever, really. Pitiful. Rotten. No good to man or beast. The more I thought of it, the sillier it seemed.

And yet there it was. Words had passed. Relations had been severed. The whole binge was irrevocably off.

There is only one thing for the sympathetic bystander to do on these occasions, and I realized now that it was madness not to have done it before going to bed and attempting sleep. I slid out from between the sheets and went downstairs.

The whisky bottle was in the cupboard. So was the siphon. So was the glass. I mixed myself a healing beaker and sat down. And, as I did so, I observed on the table a sheet of paper.