#gargery

“I tell you what, Peabody,” said Emerson, after Gargery had brought the whiskey and departed, still beaming. “We might have Wilkins and Gargery trade places, eh? Wilkins would be much happier in a quiet, well-regulated household like this.”

“I do not know why you are behaving in such an undignified manner, Emerson,” I said. “Let me go at once.”

“Excuse me, sir and madam.” Gargery put a plate of soup before Emerson. “I know I ought not ask, but in view of the profound respect I feel for you both, I must inquire whether there is any imminent danger, and if so, what we servants can do to help.”

“Oh, madam!” Gargery advanced toward me, his feet squelching in the ruins of the jelly. “Madam, the professor would never--he could not--he is utterly devoted, body and soul--”

I managed to leave the house unobserved by any of the occupants except Gargery the butler. He was new to the post, having been hired since I was last in England: a sandy-haired, youngish man of medium height and build, with an ingenuous face that had not quite mastered the perfect imperturbability the office requires. He stared at my belt and its jingling accouterments as if he had never seen such a thing before (which in fact I suppose he had not.)

Having observed that Gargery had given up all pretense of serving the food and was leaning over Emerson’s shoulder trying to see what he had drawn on the tablecloth, I announced we would retire to the drawing room. Gargery bore the disappointment bravely.

[Gargery] had participated in several of our little adventures, and had enjoyed them a great deal. Now he considered himself responsible for us and sulked if he was not kept informed about or activities. A sulky butler is a cursed inconvenience, but in my opinion it was a small price to pay for loyalty and affection.

“Curse it, Peabody, you know why. (Hallo, Gargery; how are you this evening?) I don’t like the way this fellow’s mind works. he won’t attack me. No one attacks ME."