didn't like them, but I pulled myself together again. I was dashed if I
was going to let Jeeves treat me like a bally one-man chain-gang!

But, what with brooding on Jeeves and brooding on Motty, I was in a
pretty reduced sort of state. The more I examined the situation, the
more blighted it became. There was nothing I could do. If I slung Motty
out, he would report to his mother, and she would pass it on to Aunt
Agatha, and I didn't like to think what would happen then. Sooner or
later, I should be wanting to go back to England, and I didn't want to
get there and find Aunt Agatha waiting on the quay for me with a
stuffed eelskin. There was absolutely nothing for it but to put the
fellow up and make the best of it.

About midday Motty's luggage arrived, and soon afterward a large parcel
of what I took to be nice books. I brightened up a little when I saw
it. It was one of those massive parcels and looked as if it had enough
in it to keep the chappie busy for a year. I felt a trifle more
cheerful, and I got my Country Gentleman hat and stuck it on my head,
and gave the pink tie a twist, and reeled out to take a bite of lunch
with one or two of the lads at a neighbouring hostelry; and what with
excellent browsing and sluicing and cheery conversation and what-not,
the afternoon passed quite happily. By dinner-time I had almost
forgotten blighted Motty's existence.

I dined at the club and looked in at a show afterward, and it wasn't
till fairly late that I got back to the flat. There were no signs of
Motty, and I took it that he had gone to bed.

It seemed rummy to me, though, that the parcel of nice books was still
there with the string and paper on it. It looked as if Motty, after