might suggest it, sir, why not change your mind and join Mr. George Travers at Harrogate?”
“Oh, I say, Jeeves!”
“You would be out of what I might describe as the danger zone there, sir.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Jeeves,” I said, thoughtfully. “Yes, possibly you’re right. How far is Harrogate from London?”
“Two hundred and six miles, sir.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. Is there a train this afternoon?”
“Yes, sir. You could catch it quite easily.”
“All right, then. Bung a few necessaries in a bag.”
“I have already done so, sir.”
“Ho!” I said.
It’s a rummy thing, but when you come down to it Jeeves is always right. He had tried to