The Essential Works of P. G. Wodehouse. P. G. Wodehouse
possibly, in the circumstances he might have found a restorative agreeable, sir."
"And so, in the circumstances, might Gussie too, I should think. What on earth did he do after that? London late at night—or even in the daytime, for that matter—is no place for a man in scarlet tights."
"No, sir."
"He invites comment."
"Yes, sir."
"I can see the poor old bird ducking down side-streets, skulking in alley-ways, diving into dust-bins."
"I gathered from Mr. Fink-Nottle's remarks, sir, that something very much on those lines was what occurred. Eventually, after a trying night, he found his way to Mr. Sipperley's residence, where he was able to secure lodging and a change of costume in the morning."
I nestled against the pillows, the brow a bit drawn. It is all very well to try to do old school friends a spot of good, but I could not but feel that in espousing the cause of a lunkhead capable of mucking things up as Gussie had done, I had taken on a contract almost too big for human consumption. It seemed to me that what Gussie needed was not so much the advice of a seasoned man of the world as a padded cell in Colney Hatch and a couple of good keepers to see that he did not set the place on fire.
Indeed, for an instant I had half a mind to withdraw from the case and hand it back to Jeeves. But the pride of the Woosters restrained me. When we Woosters put our hands to the plough, we do not readily sheathe the sword. Besides, after that business of the mess-jacket, anything resembling weakness would have been fatal.
"I suppose you realize, Jeeves," I said, for though one dislikes to rub it in, these things have to be pointed out, "that all this was your fault?"
"Sir?"
"It's no good saying 'Sir?' You know it was. If you had not insisted on his going to that dance—a mad project, as I spotted from the first—this would not have happened."
"Yes, sir, but I confess I did not anticipate——"
"Always anticipate everything, Jeeves," I said, a little sternly. "It is the only way. Even if you had allowed him to wear a Pierrot costume, things would not have panned out as they did. A Pierrot costume has pockets. However," I went on more kindly, "we need not go into that now. If all this has shown you what comes of going about the place in scarlet tights, that is something gained. Gussie waits without, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then shoot him in, and I will see what I can do for him."
6
Gussie, on arrival, proved to be still showing traces of his grim experience. The face was pale, the eyes gooseberry-like, the ears drooping, and the whole aspect that of a man who has passed through the furnace and been caught in the machinery. I hitched myself up a bit higher on the pillows and gazed at him narrowly. It was a moment, I could see, when first aid was required, and I prepared to get down to cases.
"Well, Gussie."
"Hullo, Bertie."
"What ho."
"What ho."
These civilities concluded, I felt that the moment had come to touch delicately on the past.
"I hear you've been through it a bit."
"Yes."
"Thanks to Jeeves."
"It wasn't Jeeves's fault."
"Entirely Jeeves's fault."
"I don't see that. I forgot my money and latchkey——"
"And now you'd better forget Jeeves. For you will be interested to hear, Gussie," I said, deeming it best to put him in touch with the position of affairs right away, "that he is no longer handling your little problem."
This seemed to slip it across him properly. The jaws fell, the ears drooped more limply. He had been looking like a dead fish. He now looked like a deader fish, one of last year's, cast up on some lonely beach and left there at the mercy of the wind and tides.
"What!"
"Yes."
"You don't mean that Jeeves isn't going to——"
"No."
"But, dash it——"
I was kind, but firm.
"You will be much better off without him. Surely your terrible experiences of that awful night have told you that Jeeves needs a rest. The keenest of thinkers strikes a bad patch occasionally. That is what has happened to Jeeves. I have seen it coming on for some time. He has lost his form. He wants his plugs decarbonized. No doubt this is a shock to you. I suppose you came here this morning to seek his advice?"
"Of course I did."
"On what point?"
"Madeline Bassett has gone to stay with these people in the country, and I want to know what he thinks I ought to do."
"Well, as I say, Jeeves is off the case."
"But, Bertie, dash it——"
"Jeeves," I said with a certain asperity, "is no longer on the case. I am now in sole charge."
"But what on earth can you do?"
I curbed my resentment. We Woosters are fair-minded. We can make allowances for men who have been parading London all night in scarlet tights.
"That," I said quietly, "we shall see. Sit down and let us confer. I am bound to say the thing seems quite simple to me. You say this girl has gone to visit friends in the country. It would appear obvious that you must go there too, and flock round her like a poultice. Elementary."
"But I can't plant myself on a lot of perfect strangers."
"Don't you know these people?"
"Of course I don't. I don't know anybody."
I pursed the lips. This did seem to complicate matters somewhat.
"All that I know is that their name is Travers, and it's a place called Brinkley Court down in Worcestershire."
I unpursed my lips.
"Gussie," I said, smiling paternally, "it was a lucky day for you when Bertram Wooster interested himself in your affairs. As I foresaw from the start, I can fix everything. This afternoon you shall go to Brinkley Court, an honoured guest."
He quivered like a mousse. I suppose it must always be rather a thrilling experience for the novice to watch me taking hold.
"But, Bertie, you don't mean you know these Traverses?"
"They are my Aunt Dahlia."
"My gosh!"
"You see now," I pointed out, "how lucky you were to get me behind you. You go to Jeeves, and what does he do? He dresses you up in scarlet tights and one of the foulest false beards of my experience, and sends you off to fancy-dress balls. Result, agony of spirit and no progress. I then take over and put you on the right lines. Could Jeeves have got you into Brinkley Court? Not a chance. Aunt Dahlia isn't his aunt. I merely mention these things."
"By Jove, Bertie, I don't know how to thank you."
"My dear chap!"
"But, I say."
"Now what?"
"What do I do when I get there?"
"If you knew Brinkley Court, you would not ask that question. In those romantic surroundings you can't miss. Great lovers through the ages have fixed up the preliminary formalities at Brinkley. The place is simply ill with atmosphere. You will stroll with the girl in the shady walks. You will sit with her on the shady lawns. You will row on the lake with her. And gradually you