Dear old Rocky is one of the best, but after a
few days in his cottage in the woods, miles away from anywhere, New
York, even with Motty on the premises, began to look pretty good to me.
The days down on Long Island have forty-eight hours in them; you can't
get to sleep at night because of the bellowing of the crickets; and you
have to walk two miles for a drink and six for an evening paper. I
thanked Rocky for his kind hospitality, and caught the only train they
have down in those parts. It landed me in New York about dinner-time. I
went straight to the old flat. Jeeves came out of his lair. I looked
round cautiously for Rollo.
"Where's that dog, Jeeves? Have you got him tied up?"
"The animal is no longer here, sir. His lordship gave him to the
porter, who sold him. His lordship took a prejudice against the animal
on account of being bitten by him in the calf of the leg."
I don't think I've ever been so bucked by a bit of news. I felt I had
misjudged Rollo. Evidently, when you got to know him better, he had a
lot of intelligence in him.
"Ripping!" I said. "Is Lord Pershore in, Jeeves?"
"No, sir."
"Do you expect him back to dinner?"
"No, sir."
"Where is he?"
"In prison, sir."
Have you ever trodden on a rake and had the handle jump up and hit you?
That's how I felt then.
"In prison!"
"Yes, sir."
"You don't mean--in prison?"
"Yes, sir.
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