The inimitable Jeeves

in. Aunt Agatha has one of those high, penetrating voices, but this was the first time I’d ever been thankful for it. There was just about two seconds to clear the way for her, but it was long enough for Eustace to dive under the sofa. His last shoe had just disappeared when she came in.
    She had a worried look. It seemed to me about this time that everybody had.
    ‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘what are your immediate plans?’
    ‘How do you mean? I’m dining tonight with -‘
    ‘No, no, I don’t mean tonight. Are you busy for the next few days? But, of course you are not,’ she went on, not waiting for me to answer. ‘You never have anything to do. Your whole life is spent in idle - but we can go into that later. What I came for this afternoon was to tell you that I wish you to go with your poor Uncle George to Harrogate for a few weeks. The sooner you can start, the better.’
    This appeared to me to approximate so closely to the frozen limit that I uttered a yelp of protest. Uncle George is all right, but he won’t do. I was trying to say as much when she waved me down.
    ‘If you are not entirely heartless, Bertie, you will do as I ask you. Your poor Uncle George has had a severe shock.’
    ‘What, another?’
    ‘He feels that only complete rest and careful medical attendance can restore his nervous system to its normal poise. It seems that in the past he has derived benefit from taking the waters at Harrogate, and he wishes to go there now. We do not think he ought to be alone, so I wish you to accompany him.’
    ‘But, I say!’
    ‘Bertie!’
    There was a lull in the conversation.
    ‘What shock has he had?’ I asked.
    ‘Between ourselves,’ said Aunt Agatha, lowering her voice in an impressive manner, ‘I incline to think that the whole affair was the outcome of an over-excited imagination. You are one of the family, Bertie, and I can speak freely to you. You know as well as I do that your poor Uncle George has for many years not been a - he has -er - developed a bit of a habit - how shall I put it?’
    ‘Shifting it a bit?’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘Mopping up the stuff to some extent?’
    ‘I dislike your way of putting it exceedingly, but I must confess that he has not been, perhaps, as temperate as he should. He is highly-strung, and … Well, the fact is, that he has had a shock.’
    ‘Yes, but what?’
    ‘That is what it is so hard to induce him to explain with any precision. With all his good points, your poor Uncle George is apt to become incoherent when strongly moved. As far as I could gather, he appears to have been the victim of a burglary.’
    ‘Burglary!’
    ‘He says that a strange man with whiskers and a peculiar nose entered his rooms in Jermyn Street during his absence and stole some of his property. He says that he came back and found the man in his sitting-room. He immediately rushed out of the room and disappeared.’
    ‘Uncle George?’
    ‘No, the man. And, according to your Uncle George, he had stolen a valuable cigarette-case. But, as I say, I am inclined to think that the whole thing was imagination. He has not been himself since the day when he fancied that he saw Eustace in the street. So I should like you, Bertie, to be prepared to start for Harrogate with him not later than Saturday.’
    She popped off, and Eustace crawled out from under the sofa. The blighter was strongly moved. So was I, for the matter of that. The idea of several weeks with Uncle George at Harrogate seemed to make everything go black.
    ‘So that’s where he got that cigarette-case, dash him!’ said Eustace bitterly. ‘Of all the dirty tricks! Robbing his own flesh and blood! That fellow ought to be in chokey.’
    ‘He ought to be in South Africa,’ I said. ‘And so ought you.’
    And with an eloquence which rather surprised me, I hauled up my slacks for perhaps ten minutes on the subject of his duty to his family and what not. I appealed to his sense of decency. I boosted South Africa with vim. I said everything I could think of, much of it twice over. But all the blighter did was to babble about his dashed brother’s baseness in putting one over on him in the matter of the cigarette-case. He seemed to think that Claude, by slinging in the handsome gift, had got right ahead of him: and there was a painful scene when the latter came back from Hurst Park. I could hear them talking half the night, long after I had tottered off to bed. I don’t know when I’ve met fellows who