on the floor above. The Clock Room.”
“Thank you. I will find it.”
“Eh?”
He gave me the eyebrow.
“I propose,” he said, “to pass the remainder of the night in your room, where, I presume, there is a bed in a condition to be slept in. You may bestow yourself as comfortably as you can here. I will wish you good night.”
He buzzed off, leaving me flat.
Well, we Woosters are old campaigners. We can take the rough with the smooth. But to say that I liked the prospect now before me would be paltering with the truth. One glance at the bed told me that any idea of sleeping there was out. A goldfish could have