handy for the anthem and when they were doing those
'miserable sinner' bits in the Litany.
He was about the height and tonnage of Fred Astaire, and
he had the lissomness which is such an asset in his chosen
profession. One could readily imagine him flitting silently
through the undergrowth with a couple of rabbits in his grasp,
always two jumps ahead of the gamekeepers who were trying
to locate him. The old ancestor had compared him to the
Scarlet Pimpernel, and a glance was enough to tell me that the
tribute was well deserved. I thought how wise Jeeves had been
in suggesting that I entrust to him the delicate mission which
I had in mind. When it comes to returning cats that have been
snitched from their lawful homes, you need a specialist. Where
Lloyd George or Winston Churchill would have failed, this
Graham, I knew would succeed.
'Good afternoon, sir,' he said, 'you wished to see me?'
I got down without delay to the nub. No sense in humming
or, for the matter of that, hawing.
'It's about this cat.'
'I delivered it according to instructions.'
'And now I want you to take it back.'
He seemed perplexed.
'Back, sir?'
'To where you got it.'
'I do not quite understand, sir.'
'I'll explain.'
I think I outlined the position of affairs rather well, making
it abundantly clear that a Wooster could not countenance what
was virtually tantamount, if tantamount is the word I want, to
nobbling a horse and that the cat under advisement must be
restored to its proprietor with all possible slippiness, and he
listened attentively. But when I had finished, he shook his
head.
'Out of the question, sir.'
'Out of the question? Why? You purloined it.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Then you can put it back.'
'No, sir. You are overlooking certain vital facts.'
'Such as?'
'The theft to which you refer was perpetrated as a personal
favour to Miss Briscoe, whom I have known from childhood,
and a sweet child she was.'
I thought of trying to move him by saying that I had been a
sweet child, too, but I knew that this was not the case, having
frequently been informed to that effect by my Aunt Agatha, so
I let it go. There was not much chance, of course, that he had
ever met my Aunt Agatha and discussed me with her, but it
was not worth risking.
'Furthermore,' he proceeded, and I was impressed, as I had
been from the start, by the purity of his diction. He had
evidently had a good education, though I doubted if he was an
Oxford man. 'Furthermore,' he said, 'I have five pounds on
Potato Chip with the landlord of the Goose and Grasshopper.'
'Aha!' I said to myself, and I'll tell you why I said 'Aha' to
myself. I said it because the scales had fallen from my eyes and
I saw all. Plainly that stuff about personal favours to sweet
children had been the merest bobbledy-gook. He had been
actuated throughout entirely by commercial motives. When
Angelica Briscoe had come to him, he would have started with
a regretful nolle prosequi on the ground that he had this fiver on
Potato Chip and was obliged to protect his investment. She
had said, would he do it for ten quid, which would leave him
with a nice profit? He had right-hoed. Angelica had then
touched Aunt Dahlia for ten and the deal had gone through. I
have often thought I would have made a good detective. I can
reason and deduce.
Everything was simple now that the matter could be put
on a business basis. All that remained was to arrange terms.
It would have to be a ready-money transaction, he being
the shrewd man he was, and fortunately I had brought wads
of cash with me for betting-on-the-course-at-Bridmouth
purposes, so there was no problem.
'How much do you want?' I said.
'Sir?'
'To de-cat my premises and restore this feline to the
strength.'
A sort of film came over his frank blue eyes, as I suppose it
always did when he talked business, though not when singing
in the choir. Fellows at the Drones have told me they notice
the same thing in Oofy Prosser, the club millionaire, when
they try to float a
'miserable sinner' bits in the Litany.
He was about the height and tonnage of Fred Astaire, and
he had the lissomness which is such an asset in his chosen
profession. One could readily imagine him flitting silently
through the undergrowth with a couple of rabbits in his grasp,
always two jumps ahead of the gamekeepers who were trying
to locate him. The old ancestor had compared him to the
Scarlet Pimpernel, and a glance was enough to tell me that the
tribute was well deserved. I thought how wise Jeeves had been
in suggesting that I entrust to him the delicate mission which
I had in mind. When it comes to returning cats that have been
snitched from their lawful homes, you need a specialist. Where
Lloyd George or Winston Churchill would have failed, this
Graham, I knew would succeed.
'Good afternoon, sir,' he said, 'you wished to see me?'
I got down without delay to the nub. No sense in humming
or, for the matter of that, hawing.
'It's about this cat.'
'I delivered it according to instructions.'
'And now I want you to take it back.'
He seemed perplexed.
'Back, sir?'
'To where you got it.'
'I do not quite understand, sir.'
'I'll explain.'
I think I outlined the position of affairs rather well, making
it abundantly clear that a Wooster could not countenance what
was virtually tantamount, if tantamount is the word I want, to
nobbling a horse and that the cat under advisement must be
restored to its proprietor with all possible slippiness, and he
listened attentively. But when I had finished, he shook his
head.
'Out of the question, sir.'
'Out of the question? Why? You purloined it.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Then you can put it back.'
'No, sir. You are overlooking certain vital facts.'
'Such as?'
'The theft to which you refer was perpetrated as a personal
favour to Miss Briscoe, whom I have known from childhood,
and a sweet child she was.'
I thought of trying to move him by saying that I had been a
sweet child, too, but I knew that this was not the case, having
frequently been informed to that effect by my Aunt Agatha, so
I let it go. There was not much chance, of course, that he had
ever met my Aunt Agatha and discussed me with her, but it
was not worth risking.
'Furthermore,' he proceeded, and I was impressed, as I had
been from the start, by the purity of his diction. He had
evidently had a good education, though I doubted if he was an
Oxford man. 'Furthermore,' he said, 'I have five pounds on
Potato Chip with the landlord of the Goose and Grasshopper.'
'Aha!' I said to myself, and I'll tell you why I said 'Aha' to
myself. I said it because the scales had fallen from my eyes and
I saw all. Plainly that stuff about personal favours to sweet
children had been the merest bobbledy-gook. He had been
actuated throughout entirely by commercial motives. When
Angelica Briscoe had come to him, he would have started with
a regretful nolle prosequi on the ground that he had this fiver on
Potato Chip and was obliged to protect his investment. She
had said, would he do it for ten quid, which would leave him
with a nice profit? He had right-hoed. Angelica had then
touched Aunt Dahlia for ten and the deal had gone through. I
have often thought I would have made a good detective. I can
reason and deduce.
Everything was simple now that the matter could be put
on a business basis. All that remained was to arrange terms.
It would have to be a ready-money transaction, he being
the shrewd man he was, and fortunately I had brought wads
of cash with me for betting-on-the-course-at-Bridmouth
purposes, so there was no problem.
'How much do you want?' I said.
'Sir?'
'To de-cat my premises and restore this feline to the
strength.'
A sort of film came over his frank blue eyes, as I suppose it
always did when he talked business, though not when singing
in the choir. Fellows at the Drones have told me they notice
the same thing in Oofy Prosser, the club millionaire, when
they try to float a
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