I turned to Aunt Agatha, whose demeanour was now rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the down express in the small of the back.

“I don’t want to rub it in, Aunt Agatha,” I said coldly, “but I should just like to point out before I go that the girl who stole your pearls is the girl you’ve been hounding me on to marry ever since I got here. Good heavens! Do you realise that if you had brought the thing off I should probably have had children who would have sneaked my watch while I was dandling them on my knee? I’m not a complaining sort of chap as a rule, but I must say that another time I do think you might be more careful how you go about egging me on to marry females.”

I gave her one look, turned on my heel and left the room.

*    *    *    *    *

“Ten o’clock, a clear night, and all’s well, Jeeves,” I said, breezing back into the good old suite.

“I am gratified to hear it, sir.”

“If twenty quid would be any use to you, Jeeves——”

“I am much obliged, sir.”

There was a pause. And then—well, it was a wrench, but I did it. I unstripped the cummerbund and handed it over.

“Do you wish me to press this, sir?”

I gave the thing one last, longing look. It had been very dear to me.

“No,” I said, “take it away; give it to the deserving poor—I shall never wear it again.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” said Jeeves.

 

CHAPTER V THE PRIDE OF THE WOOSTERS IS WOUNDED

THE PRIDE OF THE WOOSTERS IS WOUNDED

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