I have a great dislike for sleeping on an upper floor. I am nervous about fire.”
For the first time since this interview had started, I braced up a trifle.
The injustice of the whole thing stirred me to such an extent that for a moment I lost that sense of being a toad under the harrow which had been cramping my style up till now.
I even went so far as to eye this pyjamaed poltroon with a good deal of contempt and loathing. Just because he had this craven fear of fire and this selfish preference for letting Tuppy be cooked instead of himself should the emergency occur, my nicely-reasoned plans had gone up the spout.
I gave him a look, and I think I may even have snorted a bit.
“I should have thought that your manservant would have informed you,” said Sir Roderick, “that we contemplated making this change. I met him shortly before luncheon and told him to tell you.”
I reeled. Yes, it is not too much to say that I reeled. This extraordinary statement had taken me amidships without any preparation, and it staggered me. That Jeeves had been aware all along that this old crumb would be the occupant of the bed which I was proposing to prod with darning-needles and had let me rush upon my doom without a word of warning was almost beyond belief. You might say I