"His lordship is lying on the mat, sir."

I went to the front door. The man was right. There was Motty huddled up
outside on the floor. He was moaning a bit.

"He's had some sort of dashed fit," I said. I took another look.
"Jeeves! Someone's been feeding him meat!"

"Sir?"

"He's a vegetarian, you know. He must have been digging into a steak or
something. Call up a doctor!"

"I hardly think it will be necessary, sir. If you would take his
lordship's legs, while I----"

"Great Scot, Jeeves! You don't think--he can't be----"

"I am inclined to think so, sir."

And, by Jove, he was right! Once on the right track, you couldn't
mistake it. Motty was under the surface.

It was the deuce of a shock.

"You never can tell, Jeeves!"

"Very seldom, sir."

"Remove the eye of authority and where are you?"