Bunter: Well, that’s as it should be, Mr. Cummings. One can put up with a great deal from a gentleman that has the manners to apologize. And, of course, sometimes they can’t help themselves. A visitor will come in unexpectedly and keep them late, perhaps.
Cummings: That’s true enough, Mr. Bunter. Now I come to think of it, there was a gentleman come in on Monday evening. Not that he came late, but he stayed about an hour, and may have put Sir Julian behindhand.
Bunter: Very likely. Let me give you some more port, Mr. Cummings. Or a little of Lord Peter’s old brandy.
Cummings: A little of the brandy, thank you, Mr. Bunter. I suppose you have the run of the cellar here. (He winked at me.)
“Trust me for that,” I said, and I fetched him the Napoleon. I assure your lordship it went to my heart to pour it out for a man like that. However, seeing we had got on the right tack, I felt it wouldn’t be wasted.
“I’m sure I wish it was always gentlemen that come here at night,” I said. (Your lordship will excuse me, I am sure, making such a suggestion.)
(“Good God,” said Lord Peter, “I wish Bunter was less thorough in his methods.”)
Cummings: Oh, he’s that sort, his lordship, is he? (He chuckled and poked me. I suppress a portion of his conversation here, which could not fail to be as offensive to your lordship as it was to myself. He went on:) No, it’s none of that with Sir Julian. Very few visitors at night, and always gentlemen. And going early as a rule, like the one I mentioned.
Bunter: Just as well. There’s nothing I find more wearisome, Mr. Cummings, than sitting up to see visitors out.
Cummings: Oh, I didn’t see this one out. Sir Julian let him out himself at ten o’clock or thereabouts. I heard the gentleman shout “Good-night” and off he goes.