you.”
“I will do my best to justify your confidence, sir.”
“Carry on, then. And, meanwhile, pull down the blinds and bring a couple more cushions and heave that small chair this way so that I can put my feet up, and then go away and brood and let me hear from you in—say—a couple of hours. Or, maybe, three. And if anybody calls and wants to see me, inform them that I am dead.”
“Dead, sir?”
“Dead. You won’t be so far wrong.”
It must have been well towards evening when I woke up with a crick in my neck, but otherwise somewhat refreshed. I pressed the bell.
“I looked in twice, sir,” said Jeeves, “but on each occasion you were asleep and I did not like to disturb you.”
“The right spirit, Jeeves. … Well?”
“I have been giving close thought to the little problem which you indicated, sir, and I can see only one solution.”
“One is enough. What do you suggest?”
“That you go to Cambridge in Mr. Sipperley’s place, sir.”
I stared at the man. Certainly I was feeling a good deal better than I had been a few hours before, but I was far from being in a fit condition to have rot like this talked to me.
“Jeeves,” I said, sternly, “pull yourself together. This is mere babble from the sickbed.”
“I fear I can suggest no other plan of