ever put fresh water in the tank every second day and refused to see a soul. That’s why I was so amazed when you told me he had suddenly risen to the surface like this. I still can’t believe it. I am inclined to think that there must be some mistake, and that this bird who has been calling here is some different variety of Fink-Nottle. The chap I know wears horn-rimmed spectacles and has a face like a fish. How does that check up with your data?”

“The gentleman who came to the flat wore horn-rimmed spectacles, sir.”

“And looked like something on a slab?”

“Possibly there was a certain suggestion of the piscine, sir.”

“Then it must be Gussie, I suppose. But what on earth can have brought him up to London?”

“I am in a position to explain that, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle confided to me his motive in visiting the metropolis. He came because the young lady is here.”

“Young lady?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t mean he’s in love?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’m dashed. I’m really dashed. I positively am dashed, Jeeves.”

And I was too. I mean to say, a joke’s a joke, but there are limits.

Then I found my mind turning to another aspect of this rummy affair. Conceding the fact that Gussie Fink-Nottle, against all the ruling of the form book, might have fallen in love, why should he have been haunting my flat like this? No doubt the occasion was one of those when a fellow needs a friend, but I couldn’t see what had made him pick on me.

It wasn’t as if he and I were in any way bosom. We had seen a lot of each other at one time, of course, but in the last two years I hadn’t had so much as a post card from him.

I put all this to Jeeves:

“Odd, his coming to me. Still, if he did, he did. No argument about that. It must have been a nasty jar for the poor perisher when he found I wasn’t here.”

“No, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle did not call to see you, sir.”

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