“I am surprised to find you indoors,” said Psmith, “on so glorious a morning. I should have supposed that you would have been down there among the shrubs, taking a good sniff at a hollyhock or something.”
Lord Emsworth braced himself for the ordeal.
“Er, my dear fellow . . . that is to say . . .” He paused. Psmith was regarding him almost lovingly through his monocle, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to warm up to the work of denouncing him.
“You were observing . . . ?” said Psmith.
Lord Emsworth uttered curious buzzing noises.
“I have just parted from Baxter,” he said at length, deciding to approach the subject in more roundabout fashion.
“Indeed?” said Psmith courteously.
“Yes. Baxter has gone.”
“For ever?”
“Er—yes.”