The inimitable Jeeves

holding out the fiver, which had fluttered to the floor.
    ‘You’d better stick to it,’ I said. ‘It seems to be for you.’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘I say that fiver is for you, apparently. Miss Wardour sent it.’
    ‘That was extremely kind of her, sir.’
    ‘What the dickens is she sending you fivers for? She says you saved her life.’
    Jeeves smiled gently.
    ‘She over-estimates my services, sir.’
    ‘But what were your services, dash it?’
    ‘It was in the matter of Mr Claude and Mr Eustace, sir. I was hoping that she would not refer to the matter, as I did not wish you to think that I had been taking a liberty.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I chanced to be in the room while Miss Wardour was complaining with some warmth of the manner in which Mr Claude and Mr Eustace were thrusting their society upon her. I felt that in the circumstances it might be excusable if I suggested a slight ruse to enable her to dispense with their attentions.’
    ‘Good Lord! You don’t mean to say you were at the bottom of their popping off, after all!’
    Silly ass it made me feel. I mean, after rubbing it in to him like that about having clicked without his assistance.
    ‘It occurred to me that, were Miss Wardour to inform Mr Claude and Mr Eustace independently that she proposed sailing for South Africa to take up a theatrical engagement, the desired effect might be produced. It appears that my anticipations were correct, sir. The young gentlemen ate it, if I may use the expression.’
    ‘Jeeves,’ I said - we Woosters may make bloomers, but we are never too proud to admit it - ‘you stand alone!’
    ‘Thank you very much, sir.’
    ‘Oh, but I say!’ A ghastly thought had struck me. ‘When they get on the boat and find she isn’t there, won’t they come buzzing back?’
    ‘I anticipated that possibility, sir. At my suggestion, Miss Wardour informed the young gentlemen that she proposed to travel overland to Madeira and join the vessel there.’
    ‘And where do they touch after Madeira?’
    ‘Nowhere, sir.’
    For a moment I just lay back, letting the idea of the thing soak in. There seemed to me to be only one flaw.
    ‘The only pity is,’ I said, ‘that on a large boat like that they will be able to avoid each other. I mean, I should have liked to feel that Claude was having a good deal of Eustace’s society and vice versa.’
    ‘I fancy that that will be so, sir. I secured a two-berth state-room. Mr Claude will occupy one berth, Mr Eustace the other.’
    I sighed with pure ecstasy. It seemed a dashed shame that on this joyful occasion I should have to go off to Harrogate with my Uncle George.
    ‘Have you started packing yet, Jeeves?’ I asked.
    ‘Packing, sir?’
    ‘For Harrogate. I’ve got to go there today with Sir George.’
    ‘Of course, yes, sir. I forgot to mention it. Sir George rang up on the telephone this morning while you were still asleep, and said that he had changed his plans. He does not intend to go to Harrogate.’
    ‘Oh, I say, how absolutely topping!’
    ‘I thought you might be pleased, sir.’
    ‘What made him change his plans? Did he say?’
    ‘No, sir. But I gather from his man, Stevens, that he is feeling much better and does not now require a rest-cure. I took the liberty of giving Stevens the recipe for that pick-me-up of mine, of which you have always approved so much. Stevens tells me that Sir George informed him this morning that he is feeling a new man.’
    Well, there was only one thing to do, and I did it. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt, but there was no alternative.
    ‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘those spats.’
    ‘Yes, sir?’
    ‘You really dislike them?’
    ‘Intensely, sir.’
    ‘You don’t think time might induce you to change your views?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘All right, then. Very well. Say no more. You may burn them.’
    ‘Thank you very much, sir. I have already done so. Before breakfast this morning. A quiet grey is far more suitable, sir. Thank you, sir.’

    17
    Bingo and The Little Woman

    It must have been a week or so after the departure of Claude and Eustace that I ran into young Bingo Little in the smoking-room of the Senior Liberal Club. He was lying back in an armchair with his mouth open and a sort of goofy expression in his eyes, while a grey-bearded cove in the middle distance watched him with so much dislike that I concluded that Bingo had pinched his favourite seat. That’s the worst of being in a strange club - absolutely without