Free Much Obliged, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

voice to a sort of rumbling growl which made him difficult to follow. However, I caught the word ‘read’ and the word ‘book’ and perked up a bit. If this was going to be a literary discussion, I didn’t mind exchanging views.
    ‘Book?’ I said. ‘Book.’ ‘You want me to recommend you a good book? Well, of course, it depends on what you like. Jeeves, for instance, is never happier than when curled up with his Spinoza or his Shakespeare. I, on the other hand, go in mostly for who-dun-its and novels of suspense. For the who-dun-it Agatha Christie is always a safe bet. For the novel of suspense…’
    Here I paused, for he had called me an opprobrious name and told me to stop babbling, and it is always my policy to stop babbling when a man eight foot six in height and broad in proportion tells me to. I went into the silence, and he continued to say on.
    ‘I said that I could read you like a book, Wooster. I know what your game is.’
    ‘I don’t understand you, Lord Sidcup.’
    ‘Then you must be as big an ass as you look, which is saying a good deal. I am referring to your behaviour towards my fiancee. I come into this room and I find you fondling her face.’
    I had to correct him here. One likes to get these things straight.
    ‘Only her chin.’
    ‘Pah ! ‘ he said, or something that sounded like that.
    ‘And I had to get a grip on it in order to extract the gnat from her eye. I was merely steadying it.’
    ‘You were steadying it gloatingly.’
    ‘I wasn’t!’
    ‘Pardon me. I have eyes and can see when a man is steadying a chin gloatingly and when he isn’t. You were obviously delighted to have an excuse for soiling her chin with your foul fingers.’
    ‘You are wrong, Lord Spodecup.’
    ‘And, as I say, I know what your game is. You are trying to undermine me, to win her from me with your insidious guile, and what I want to impress upon you with all the emphasis at my disposal is that if anything of this sort is going to occur again, you would do well to take out an accident policy with some good insurance company at the earliest possible date. You probably think that being a guest in your aunt’s house I would hesitate to butter you over the front lawn and dance on the fragments in hobnailed boots, but you are mistaken. It will be a genuine pleasure. By an odd coincidence I brought a pair of hobnailed boots with me!’
    So saying, and recognizing a good exit line when he saw one, he strode out, and after an interval of tense meditation I followed him. Repairing to my bedroom, I found Jeeves there, looking reproachful. He knows I can dress for dinner in ten minutes, but regards haste askance, for he thinks it results in a tie which, even if adequate, falls short of the perfect butterfly effect.
    I ignored the silent rebuke in his eyes. After meeting Spode’s eyes, I was dashed if I was going to be intimidated by Jeeves’s.
    ‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘You’re fairly well up in Hymns Ancient and Modern, I should imagine. Who were the fellows in the hymn who used to prowl and prowl around?’
    ‘The troops of Midian, sir.’
    ‘That’s right. Was Spode mentioned as one of them?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘I ask because he’s prowling around as if Midian was his home town. Let me tell you all about it.’
    ‘I fear it will not be feasible, sir. The gong is sounding.’
    ‘So it is. Who’s sounding it? You said Seppings was in bed.’
    ‘The parlourmaid, sir, deputizing for Mr. Seppings.’
    ‘I like her wrist work. Well, I’ll tell you later.’
    ‘Very good, sir. Pardon me, your tie.’
    ‘What’s wrong with it?’
    ‘Everything, sir. If you will allow me.’
    ‘All right, go ahead. But I can’t help asking myself if ties really matter at a time like this.’
    ‘There is no time when ties do not matter, sir.’
    My mood was sombre as I went down to dinner. Anatole, I was thinking, would no doubt give us of his best, possibly his Timbale de ris de veau Toulousaine or his Sylphides a la