The inimitable Jeeves

chocolates out of the slot-machine. A scene of peace and cheery goodwill. Dashed promising, I thought.

    Which made it all the more of a jar, about a fortnight later, when his telegram arrived. As follows:
Bertie old man
I say Bertie could you possibly come down here at once.
Everything gone wrong hang it all.
Dash it Bertie you simply must come.
I am in a state of absolute despair and heart-broken.
Would you mind sending another hundred of those cigarettes.
Bring Jeeves when you come Bertie.
You simply must come Bertie.
I rely on you.
Don’t forget to bring Jeeves.
BINGO .

    For a chap who’s perpetually hard-up, I must say that young Bingo is the most wasteful telegraphist I ever struck. He’s got no notion of condensing. The silly ass simply pours out his wounded soul at twopence a word, or whatever it is, without a thought.
    ‘How about it, Jeeves?’ I said. Tm getting a bit fed. I can’t go chucking all my engagements every second week in order to biff down to Twing and rally round young Bingo. Send him a wire telling him to end it all in the village pond.’
    ‘If you could spare me for the night, sir, I should be glad to run down and investigate.’
    ‘Oh, dash it! Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to be done. After all, you’re the fellow he wants. All right, carry on.’
    Jeeves got back late the next day.
    ‘Well?’ I said.
    Jeeves appeared perturbed. He allowed his left eyebrow to flicker upwards in a concerned sort of manner.
    ‘I have done what I could, sir,’ he said, ‘but I fear Mr Little’s chances do not appear bright. Since our last visit, sir, there has been a decidedly sinister and disquieting development.’
    ‘Oh, what’s that?’
    ‘You may remember Mr Steggles, sir - the young gentleman who was studying for an examination with Mr Heppenstall at the Vicarage?’
    ‘What’s Steggles got to do with it?’ I asked.
    ‘I gather from Brookfield, sir, who chanced to overhear a conversation, that Mr Steggles is interesting himself in the affair.’
    ‘Good Lord! What, making a book on it?’
    ‘I understand that he is accepting wagers from those in his immediate circle, sir. Against Mr Little, whose chances he does not seem to fancy.’
    ‘I don’t like that, Jeeves.’
    ‘No, sir. It is sinister.’
    ‘From what I know of Steggles there will be dirty work.’
    ‘It has already occurred, sir.’
    ‘Already?’
    ‘Yes, sir. It seems that, in pursuance of the policy which he has been good enough to allow me to suggest to him, Mr Little escorted Master Burgess to the church bazaar, and there met Mr Steggles, who was in the company of young Master Heppenstall, the Reverend Mr HeppenstalPs second son, who is home from Rugby just now, having recently recovered from an attack of mumps. The encounter took place in the refreshment-room, where Mr Steggles was at that moment entertaining Master Heppenstall. To cut a long story short, sir, the two gentlemen became extremely interested in the hearty manner in which the lads were fortifying themselves; and Mr Steggles offered to back his nominee in a weight-for-age eating contest against Master Burgess for a pound a side. Mr Little admitted to me that he was conscious of a certain hesitation as to what the upshot might be, should Miss Burgess get to hear of the matter, but his sporting blood was too much for him and he agreed to the contest. This was duly carried out, both lads exhibiting the utmost willingness and enthusiasm, and eventually Master Burgess justified Mr Little’s confidence by winning, but only after a bitter struggle. Next day both contestants were in considerable pain; inquiries were made and confessions extorted, and Mr Little -1 learn from Brook-field, who happened to be near the door of the drawing-room at the moment - had an extremely unpleasant interview with the young lady, which ended in her desiring him never to speak to her again.’ There’s no getting away from the fact that, if ever a man required watching, it’s Steggles. Machiavelli could have taken his correspondence course.
    ‘It was a put-up job, Jeeves!’ I said. ‘I mean, Steggles worked the whole thing on purpose. It’s his old nobbling game.’
    ‘There would seem to be no doubt about that, sir.’
    ‘Well, he seems to have dished poor old Bingo all right.’
    ‘That is the prevalent opinion, sir. Brookfield tells me that down in the village at the Cow and Horses seven to one is being freely offered on Mr Wingham and finding no