“Oh, buzzing round. We’re just up for the day. Flying visit, strictly unofficial. We oil back on the three-ten. And now, touching that lunch you very decently volunteered to stand us, which shall it be? Ritz? Savoy? Carlton? Or, if you’re a member of Ciro’s or the Embassy, that would do just as well.”
“I can’t give you lunch. I’ve got an engagement myself. And, by Jove,” I said, taking a look at my watch, “I’m late.” I hailed a taxi. “Sorry.”
“As man to man, then,” said Eustace, “lend us a fiver.”
I hadn’t time to stop and argue. I unbelted the fiver and hopped into the cab. It was twenty to two when I got to the flat. I bounded into the sitting-room, but it was empty.
Jeeves shimmied in.
“Sir Roderick has not yet arrived, sir.”
“Good egg!” I said. “I thought I should find him smashing up the furniture.” My experience is that the less you want a fellow, the more punctual he’s bound to be, and I had had a vision of the old lad pacing the rug in my sitting-room, saying “He cometh not!” and generally hotting up. “Is everything in order?”
“I fancy you will find the arrangements quite satisfactory, sir.”
“What are you giving us?”
“Cold consommé, a cutlet, and a savoury, sir. With lemon-squash, iced.”