e, my lamb, by all means
do so. But whether clothed or in the nude, whether singing comic songs or
not singing comic songs, get a move on."

I found speech:

"But I haven't ridden for years."

"Then it's high time you began again."

"I've probably forgotten how to ride."

"You'll soon get the knack after you've taken a toss or two. Trial and
error. The only way."

"But it's miles to Kingham."

"So the sooner you're off, the better."

"But----"

"Bertie, dear."

"But, dash it----"

"Bertie, darling."

"Yes, but dash it----"

"Bertie, my sweet."

And so it was arranged. Presently I was moving sombrely off through the
darkness, Jeeves at my side, Aunt Dahlia calling after me something about
trying to imagine myself the man who brought the good news from Ghent to
Aix. The first I had heard of the chap.

"So, Jeeves," I said, as we reached the shed, and my voice was cold and
bitter, "this is what your great scheme has accomplished! Tuppy, Angela,
Gussie and the Bassett not on speaking terms, and self faced with an
eight-mile ride----"

"Nine, I believe, sir."

"--a nine-mile ride, and another nine-mile ride back."

"I am sorry, sir."

"No good being sorry now. Where is this foul bone-shaker?"

"I will bring it out, sir."

He did so. I eyed it sourly.

"Where's the lamp?"

"I fear there is no lamp, sir."

"No lamp?"

"No, sir."

"But I may come a fearful stinker without a lamp. Suppose I barge into
something."

I broke off and eyed him frigidly.

"You smile, Jeeves. The thought amuses you?"

"I beg your pardon, sir. I was thinking of a tale my Uncle Cyril used to
tell me as a child. An absurd little story, sir, though I confess that I
have always found it droll. According to my Uncle Cyril, two men named
Nicholls and Jackson set out to ride to Brighton on a tandem bicycle, and
were so unfortunate as to come into collision with a brewer's van. And
when the rescue party arrived on the scene of the accident, it was
discovered that they had been hurled together with such force that it was
impossible to sort them out at all adequately. The keenest eye could not
discern which portion of the fragments was Nicholls and which Jackson. So
they collected as much as they could, and called it Nixon. I remember
laughing very much at that story when I was a child, sir."

I had to pause a moment to master my feelings.

"You did, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"You thought it funny?"

"Yes, sir."

"And