had lost his nerve. My closely-reasoned scheme had gone phut.
Jeeves was fooling about with the geraniums in the sitting-room window-box when I got home.
“They make a very nice display, sir,” he said, cocking a paternal eye at the things.
“Don’t talk to me about flowers,” I said. “Jeeves, I know now how a general feels when he plans out some great scientific movement and his troops let him down at the eleventh hour.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Yes,” I said, and told him what had happened.
He listened thoughtfully.
“A somewhat vacillating and changeable young gentleman, Mr. Biffen,” was his comment when I had finished. “Would you be requiring me for the remainder of the afternoon, sir?”
“No. I’m going to Wembley. I just