"Пэлем Грэнвил Вудхауз. Much obliged, Jeeves (Премного обязан, Дживс; англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

dates back some twelve years. And one must remember that it is not
every employer who demands a great deal of space.'
'Demands!'
'I should have said "requires". As a rule, a few lines suffice.
Your eighteen pages are quite exceptional.'
'Eighteen? I thought it was eleven.'
'You are omitting to take into your calculations the report of
your misadventures at Totleigh Towers, which I have nearly
completed. I anticipate that this will run to approximately seven.
If you will permit me, sir, I will pat your back.'
He made this kindly offer because I had choked on a swallow of
coffee. A few pats and I was myself again and more than a little
incensed, as always happens when we are discussing his literary
work. Eighteen pages, I mean to say, and every page full of stuff
calculated, if thrown open to the public, to give my prestige the
blackest of eyes. Conscious of a strong desire to kick the
responsible parties in the seat of the pants, I spoke with a
generous warmth.
'Well, I call it monstrous. There's no other word for it. Do
you know what that blasted committee of yours are inviting?
Blackmail, that's what they're inviting. Let some man of ill will
get his hooks on that book, and what'll be the upshot? Ruin,
Jeeves, that's what'll be the upshot.'
I don't know if he drew himself to his full height, because I
was lighting a cigarette at the moment and wasn't looking, but I
think he must have done, for his voice, when he spoke, was the
chilly voice of one who has drawn himself to his full height.
'There are no men of ill will in the Junior Ganymede, sir.'
I contested this statement hotly.
That's what you think. How about Brinkley?' I said, my allusion
being to a fellow the agency had sent me some years previously when
Jeeves and I had parted company temporarily because he didn't like
me playing the banjolele. 'He's a member, isn't he?'
'A county member, sir. He rarely comes to the club. In passing,
sir, his name is not Brinkley, it is Bingley.'
I waved an impatient cigarette holder. I was in no mood to
split straws. Or is it hairs?
'His name is not of the essence, Jeeves. What is of the e is
that he went off on his afternoon out, came back in an advanced
state of intoxication, set the house on fire and tried to dismember
me with a carving knife.'
'A most unpleasant experience, sir.'
'Having heard noises down below, I emerged from my room and
found him wrestling with the grandfather clock, with which he
appeared to have had a difference. He then knocked over a lamp and
leaped up the stairs at me, complete with cutlass. By a miracle I
avoided becoming the late Bertram Wooster, but only by a miracle.
And you say there are no men of ill will in the Junior Ganymede
club. Tchah!' I said. It is an expression I don't often use, but
the situation seemed to call for it.