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I left Jeeves to get my baggage safely past an aggregation of suspicious-minded pirates who were digging for buried treasures among my new shirts, and drove to Gussie's hotel, where I requested the squad of gentlemanly clerks behind the desk to produce him. That's where I got my first shock. He wasn't there. I pleaded with them to think again, and they thought again, but it was no good.
These suspicious-minded people are sure that every man is a scoundrel at heart more or less and needs to be watched; no man or woman is to be trusted; every grocer will sand his sugar, chicory his coffee, sell butterine for butter, and cold-storage eggs for fresh if he gets a chance.
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