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Choosing your moment with subtle cunning, you came to me when I was weakened by relief and got me to get rid of them. And what I am saying now is that if you are successful on the present occasion there must be no rot of that description about that mess-jacket of mine." "Very good, sir." "You will not come to me when all is over and ask me to jettison the jacket?" "Certainly not, sir."
"On the other hand," said Kirby, diving into his mess-jacket and shrugging his neat shoulders until they fitted into it as a charger fits into his skin, "under the circumstances and taking into consideration certain private information that has reached me if I were supposed to be behind a bolted door in the bazaar, I'd rather appreciate it if Ranjoor Singh, for instance, were to ah take action of some kind."
The coat was cut something like an army mess-jacket and the style suited her. I dare say there are many youthful subalterns, and not the worst-looking too, who resemble Mrs Fyne in the type of face, in the sunburnt complexion, down to that something alert in bearing. But not many would have had that aspect breathing a readiness to assume any responsibility under Heaven.
The call brought back memories of his cot under the mosquito-netting, his mother's kiss, and the sound of footsteps growing fainter as he dropped asleep among his men. So he hooked the dark collar of his new mess-jacket, and went to dinner like a prince who has newly inherited his father's crown. Old Bukta swaggered forth curling his whiskers.
Zangiacomo followed, with his great, pendulous dyed beard and short mess-jacket, with an aspect of hang-dog concentration imparted by his drooping head and the uneasiness of his eyes, which were set very close together. He climbed the steps last of all, turned about, displaying his purple beard to the hall, and tapped with his bow. Heyst winced in anticipation of the horrible racket.
And it was as I had suspected. There was the mess-jacket still on its hanger. The hound hadn't packed it. Well, as anybody at the Drones will tell you, Bertram Wooster is a pretty hard chap to outgeneral. I shoved the thing in a brown-paper parcel and put it in the back of the car, and it was on a chair in the hall now.
"If it weren't for the fact that I particularly want a word with him," said Kirby, giving a last tweak to his tie and reaching out for his mess-jacket that the servant had laid on a chair, "there'd not be much ground that I can see for action of any kind. He has a right to go where he likes."
Brammle came in sniffing, and Kirby cursed him through tight lips with words that were no less fervent for lack of being heard. "Hallo! Burning love-letters? The whole mess is doin' the same thing. Haven't had time to burn mine yet was busy sorting things over when you called. Look here!" He opened the front of his mess-jacket and produced a little lace handkerchief, a glove and a powder-puff.
Mind you, after what had passed between us in the matter of that white mess-jacket with the brass buttons, I was not prepared absolutely to hand over to the man. I would, of course, merely take him into consultation.
"I am convinced that you will eventually learn to love this mess-jacket, Jeeves." "I fear not, sir." I gave it up. It is never any use trying to reason with Jeeves on these occasions. "Pig-headed" is the word that springs to the lips. One sighs and passes on. "Well, anyway, returning to the agenda, I can't go down to Brinkley Court or anywhere else yet awhile. That's final.
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