P. G. Wodehouse

“ That is to say, I never met him.”
“No?”
“But I won the first prize for roses at the Shrewsbury Flower Show the year he won the prize for tulips.”
“It seems to draw us very close together,” said Psmith.
“Why, my dear boy,” cried Lord Emsworth jubilantly, “if you are really looking for a position of some kind and would care to be my secretary, nothing could suit me better. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Why, bless my soul . . .”
“I am extremely obliged,” said Psmith. “And I shall endeavour to give satisfaction. ”

“ Lord Emsworth returned to the library to wrestle with his problem unaided.
He was greatly disturbed. Apart from the fact that he disliked criminals and impostors as a class, it was a shock to him to learn that the particular criminal and impostor then in residence at Blandings was the man for whom, brief as had been the duration of their acquaintance, he had conceived a warm affection. He was fond of Psmith. Psmith soothed him. If he had had to choose any member of his immediate circle for the rôle of criminal and impostor, he would have chosen Psmith last. ”

“ Lord Emsworth was aware of Psmith beside him at the window, waving cordially to Eve, who waved back.
“I thought possibly,” continued Psmith, “that Miss Halliday would be in her little room yonder”—he indicated the dummy book-shelves through which he had entered. “But I am glad to see that the morning is so fine that she has given toil the miss-in-baulk. It is the right spirit,” said Psmith. ”

“ No one, of course, could have been more alive than myself to the fact that I was merely a poor substitute, a sort of synthetic McTodd, but still I considered that I was better than nothing, so I came along.”
His lordship digested this explanation in silence. Then he seized on a magnificent point.
“Are you a member of the Senior Conservative Club?”
“Most certainly.”
“Why, then, dash it,” cried his lordship, paying to that august stronghold of respectability as striking a tribute as it had ever received, “if you’re a member of the Senior Conservative, you can’t be a criminal. Baxter’s an ass!” ”

“ From a sky of unbroken blue the sun poured down its heartening rays on all those roses, pinks, pansies, carnations, hollyhocks, columbines, larkspurs, London pride and Canterbury bells which made the gardens so rarely beautiful. ”

“ Baxter glanced at his watch. “I must go now or I shall miss my train,” he said curtly. “I was merely going to tell you that this fellow who calls himself Ralston McTodd is not Ralston McTodd at all.”
“Not Ralston McTodd?” repeated his lordship blankly. “But——” He suddenly perceived a flaw in the argument. “But he said he was,” he pointed out cleverly. “Yes, I remember distinctly. He said he was McTodd.”
“He is an impostor. And I imagine that if you investigate you will find that it is he and his accomplices who stole Lady Constance’s necklace.” ”

“ Baxter has explained the whole thing to me, and surely even you can see that his behaviour was perfectly excusable.”
“I don’t like the fellow,” cried Lord Emsworth, once more retreating to his last line of trenches—the one line from which all Lady Constance’s eloquence had been unable to dislodge him. ”