“What are you playing at?” demanded the policeman.
“Just looking round. They may have moved the thing.”
“Ho!”
And then there was another bit of a lull. And suddenly I found myself by the window, and, by Jove, it was six inches open at the bottom. And the world beyond looked so bright and sunny and—Well, I don’t claim that I am a particularly swift thinker, but once more something seemed to whisper “Outside for Bertram!” I slid my fingers nonchalantly under the sash, gave a hefty heave, and up she came. And the next moment I was in a laurel bush, feeling like the cross which marks the spot where the accident occurred.
A large red face appeared in the window. I got up and skipped lightly to the gate.
“Hi!” shouted the policeman.
“Ho!” I replied, and went forth, moving well.
“This,” I said to myself, as I hailed a passing cab and sank back on the cushions, “is the last time I try to do anything for young Bingo!”
These sentiments I expressed in no guarded language to Jeeves when I was back in the old flat with my feet on the mantelpiece, pushing down a soothing whisky-and.
“Never again, Jeeves!” I said. “Never again!”
“Well, sir—”
“No, never again!”
“Well, sir—”