The Time Machine of Thorrocks Manor - 3

“Well, sir, if I first might be so bold as to replace the milk decanter on its silver tray and to now close the triple doors to the kitchen ... thus ... and if I might propose that you now angle your head somewhat to the right and lean forward slightly but not so much as to burn your left ear in the mildly still steaming porridge in front of you, I feel confident that you will then espy Miss Vu standing on the wall of the garden perimeter, facing towards the adjoining street and gesticulating wildly.”
“Very well, thus, thus, thus, ... I can’t see anything. Do have a still slightly warm left ear, though.”
“Might I suggest, sir, that you would be advised to make use first of your monocle.”
“Good plan, Gargers – okay, so back up with the ...”
“If I could interject here, sir. I feel I should advise you that I can hear the dulcet ring of the telephone and I feel that I should briefly leave your presence and answer it, sir.”
“Gosh, I can’t hear anything – ears like a bat you have, Gargs.”
“Yes, my Aunt Brutal said much the same on those occasions when she took it into her mind to playfully, sort of, box me about the ears, sir. ... So, I will open and then carefully close the quadruple doors into the hall, the better not to disturb your repast, sir, and carefully stepping around the tiger rug, complete with up-propped and heavily toothed head, then tread my way to the reproduction Chippendale telephone table and raise the telephone, placing one bakelite horn near to my mouth and lifting the bakelite earpiece horn to my left ear while staring nonchalantly at the seventh step of the grand staircase. ... Plantation Villas – the Warburton residence.”
“Tiggy Thingummy here. Is that you Gargoyle, you verminous piece of scum?”
“I am obliged to acknowledge it is mine own verminous piece of scum to which you have the pleasure of addressing me as such, sir. How may I be of abject service, Mr Thistlethwaite, sir?”
“Don’t you take that tone with me, you object of excrescence!”
“Please forgive the inexcusable tonality you cleverly suspected in my composition of diction, sir.”
“Is that idiocy War around?”
“I sense you are referring to my esteemed employer, sir, and yes he is in the vicinity.”
“What is that appalling caterwauling I can hear?”
“Ah, Mr Warburton appears to have broken off from the breaking of his fast ...”
“You should keep him on permanent fast, if you ask me.”
“... and is now meditating; Mr Warburton is not an afficionado of the commedia dell’om and prefers to focus his meditative practice through various forms of ullulating and warble, though it can be quite difficult to tell the which from the which, sir.”
“No matter ... look, I have a mission for you, Gargoyle, you utter awfulness.”
“Yes, sir?”
“But first, last time I was at Paradise Villas I could swear that I saw through the corner of an eye and the chink of a doorway what I can only describe as a French Maid. What an earth is War doing employing a French maid and quite such a scantily cla ...”
“Ah, if I might interject, sir, I must confess that Mr Warburton is not entirely cognizant of the fact that he has a French maid in his employ, sir.”
“Well, who is she?”
“Miss Vu, sir.”
“Miss who?”
“Miss Vu, sir. Miss Déjà Vu.”