Usual disclaimer.
Chapter Eight
Next morning, I sprang from my bed, with a zest that nearly caused Jeeves to raise his left eyebrow a good eighth of an inch. Sloshing the morning tea down the hatch, I dressed quickly, and left the flat even quicker. I had to move fast to preserve my newfound courage. I was on my way to my Aunt Agatha's, and, as Jeeves says; if t'were done well it were best t'were done quickly.
By the time I reached her lair, my brave front had sagged somewhat. Still, I steadied myself, and tapped on the door. An ancient butler looked down at me, like I was the lowest dreg of society, and then stepped well out of my way when I entered, as if he was frightened he might catch something.
The 'Werewolf' was hiding in some floral room with large leather sofas. She eyed me with visible distaste, before grudgingly allowing me to sit.
"What are you doing here? I've quite had enough of you"
I ran the finger round the collar a bit, before speaking thus;
"I came to see what all this business was about my eccentricity."
"Oh, that." She brooded. "Apparently, Olivia's father discovered papers describing some recent events that made him order the cancellation of the engagement. I myself know not what they were, but they were written with a mysterious heading at the top, on the first page."
I goggled.
"What was the heading?"
" 'The Junior Ganymede Club Book: The Records of Mr B.W Wooster.'"
In a matter of minutes, I had left the house, and was marching back home. I was seething like the dickens, and quivering like one of those things that quiver, an aspen, I think.
I threw wide the door and surprised Jeeves who for reasons of his own was in the hall at that moment. The man's mouth actually flickered a bit, showing his surprise.
Well, in a few minutes I had revealed the facts, and Jeeves just stood there, like he had recently visited a taxidermist, and occasionally said;
"Most disturbing, Sir."
"But Jeeves! Those bally pages about me in your book have yet again broken loose. The secretary in charge must spend all day dozing if persons can acquire that damn book so easily."
"I perfectly understand your consternation, Sir. But if I may say so, it has been advantageous to you. You are now no longer engaged to Miss Georgehath, Sir."
I nodded, glumly. A thought struck me. A rare occurrence, as my followers know, but it struck.
"Jeeves, did you copy the pages from the club book, and plant them in that house?"
"That is the strange thing, Sir. It was not I. Also, the pages that have come to the Georgehath's notice were not yet in the club book. They were the pages I was working on but a few days ago."
"How do you know?"
"The Georgehath's butler met me recently, and told me he had seen them, Sir. He too is a member of my club. He described their contents too me, and I knew that those pages were not yet in the book."
I goggled for the second time that day. If it was not Jeeves, then some mystical or possibly heavenly force was at work. But then, amazingly, another of those intellectual thoughts struck.
"The ones you lost, you mean?"
"Yes, Sir,"
"The ones your niece accidentally took?"
"Yes, Sir. I may also mention that my niece, Miss Emily Cooper, works at the Georgehaths house, as a Parlour maid."
I staggered back. I had met that self same parlour maid. Indeed she had been the one who had given me that passion filled note. And this girls name was Emily.
Chapter Eight
Next morning, I sprang from my bed, with a zest that nearly caused Jeeves to raise his left eyebrow a good eighth of an inch. Sloshing the morning tea down the hatch, I dressed quickly, and left the flat even quicker. I had to move fast to preserve my newfound courage. I was on my way to my Aunt Agatha's, and, as Jeeves says; if t'were done well it were best t'were done quickly.
By the time I reached her lair, my brave front had sagged somewhat. Still, I steadied myself, and tapped on the door. An ancient butler looked down at me, like I was the lowest dreg of society, and then stepped well out of my way when I entered, as if he was frightened he might catch something.
The 'Werewolf' was hiding in some floral room with large leather sofas. She eyed me with visible distaste, before grudgingly allowing me to sit.
"What are you doing here? I've quite had enough of you"
I ran the finger round the collar a bit, before speaking thus;
"I came to see what all this business was about my eccentricity."
"Oh, that." She brooded. "Apparently, Olivia's father discovered papers describing some recent events that made him order the cancellation of the engagement. I myself know not what they were, but they were written with a mysterious heading at the top, on the first page."
I goggled.
"What was the heading?"
" 'The Junior Ganymede Club Book: The Records of Mr B.W Wooster.'"
In a matter of minutes, I had left the house, and was marching back home. I was seething like the dickens, and quivering like one of those things that quiver, an aspen, I think.
I threw wide the door and surprised Jeeves who for reasons of his own was in the hall at that moment. The man's mouth actually flickered a bit, showing his surprise.
Well, in a few minutes I had revealed the facts, and Jeeves just stood there, like he had recently visited a taxidermist, and occasionally said;
"Most disturbing, Sir."
"But Jeeves! Those bally pages about me in your book have yet again broken loose. The secretary in charge must spend all day dozing if persons can acquire that damn book so easily."
"I perfectly understand your consternation, Sir. But if I may say so, it has been advantageous to you. You are now no longer engaged to Miss Georgehath, Sir."
I nodded, glumly. A thought struck me. A rare occurrence, as my followers know, but it struck.
"Jeeves, did you copy the pages from the club book, and plant them in that house?"
"That is the strange thing, Sir. It was not I. Also, the pages that have come to the Georgehath's notice were not yet in the club book. They were the pages I was working on but a few days ago."
"How do you know?"
"The Georgehath's butler met me recently, and told me he had seen them, Sir. He too is a member of my club. He described their contents too me, and I knew that those pages were not yet in the book."
I goggled for the second time that day. If it was not Jeeves, then some mystical or possibly heavenly force was at work. But then, amazingly, another of those intellectual thoughts struck.
"The ones you lost, you mean?"
"Yes, Sir,"
"The ones your niece accidentally took?"
"Yes, Sir. I may also mention that my niece, Miss Emily Cooper, works at the Georgehaths house, as a Parlour maid."
I staggered back. I had met that self same parlour maid. Indeed she had been the one who had given me that passion filled note. And this girls name was Emily.