There was something of a pause after the door had closed. A certain constraint. I mixed myself a beaker, while Gussie, a glutton for punishment, stared at himself in the mirror. Finally I decided that it would be best to let him know that I was abreast of his affairs. It might be that it would ease his mind to confide in a sympathetic man of experience. I have generally found, with those under the influence, that what they want more than anything is the listening ear.

“Well, Gussie, old leper,” I said, “I’ve been hearing all about you.”

“Eh?”

“This little trouble of yours. Jeeves has told me everything.”

He didn’t seem any too braced. It’s always difficult to be sure, of course, when a chap has dug himself in behind a Mephistopheles beard, but I fancy he flushed a trifle.

“I wish Jeeves wouldn’t go gassing all over the place. It was supposed to be confidential.”

I could not permit this tone.

“Dishing up the dirt to the young master can scarcely be described as gassing all over the place,” I said, with a touch of rebuke. “Anyway, there it is. I know all. And I should like to begin,” I said, sinking my personal opinion that the female in question was a sloppy pest in my desire to buck and encourage, “by saying that Madeline Bassett is a charming girl. A winner, and just the sort for you.”

“You don’t know her?”

“Certainly I know her. What beats me is how you ever got in touch. Where did you meet?”

“She was staying at a place near mine in Lincolnshire the week before last.”

“Yes, but even so. I didn’t know you called on the neighbours.”

“I don’t. I met her out for a walk with her dog. The dog had got a thorn in its foot, and when she tried to take it out, it snapped at her. So, of course, I had to rally round.”

“You extracted the thorn?”

“Yes.”

“And fell in love at first sight?”

“Yes.”

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