“The whole atmosphere of the place is getting rummy, if you know what I mean.” He bent towards Psmith and whispered pallidly. “I say, I believe that new housemaid is a detective!”
Psmith eyed him patiently.
“Which new housemaid, Comrade Threepwood? Brooding, as I do, pretty tensely all the time on deep and wonderful subjects, I have little leisure to keep tab on the domestic staff. Is there a new housemaid?”
“Yes. Susan, her name is.”
“Susan? Susan? That sounds all right. Just the name a real housemaid would have.”
“Did you ever,” demanded Freddie earnestly, “see a real housemaid sweep under a bureau?”
“Does she?”
“Caught her at it in my room this morning.”
“But isn’t it a trifle far-fetched to imagine that she is a detective? Why should she be a detective?”
“Well, I’ve seen such a dashed lot of films where the housemaid or the parlourmaid or what not were detectives. Makes a fellow uneasy.”