“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?”

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