The teary eyed mob surrounded the accused.
"Jeeves!" Mr. Charleswood shouted from under the wheelchair. "You have the audacity to show your greasy mop here!" The crowd murmured and moved in closer. One of the overwhelmed women tried to rip a piece of leather from the shoulder of Jeeves' jacket but was dissuaded by his sudden movement and snarl, "I'm the chauffeur, not the butler!"
Jolene watched the man that Mr. Charleswood called Jeeves but whose name on the front of the jacket said, "Henri." From the back, he seemed rather familiar.
Baxter Duremburg, dismayed by the lack of interest in Glynnis' paraphernalia, uprighted the wheelchair and its rider. "Really, someone should call the police," he said and disappeared back behind his booth.