“It’s a loose way of describing him, but I know what you mean.”

“I trust I was not taking a liberty in entertaining him, sir?”

“Not a bit. If that’s your idea of a large afternoon, go ahead.”

“I happened to meet the young gentleman taking a walk with his father’s valet, sir, whom I used to know somewhat intimately in London, and I ventured to invite them both to join me here.”

“Well, never mind about him, Jeeves. Read this letter.”

He gave it the up-and-down.

“Very disturbing, sir!” was all he could find to say.

“What are we going to do about it?”

“Time may provide a solution, sir.”

“On the other hand, it mayn’t, what?”

“Extremely true, sir.”

We’d got as far as this, when there was a ring at the door. Jeeves shimmered off, and Cyril blew in, full of good cheer and blitheringness.

“I say, Wooster, old thing,” he said, “I want your advice. You know this jolly old part of mine. How ought I to dress it? What I mean is, the first act scene is laid in an hotel of sorts, at about three in the afternoon. What ought I to wear, do you think?”

I wasn’t feeling fit for a discussion of gent’s suitings.

“You’d better consult Jeeves,” I said.

“A hot and by no means unripe idea! Where is he?”

“Gone back to the kitchen, I suppose.”

“I’ll smite the good old bell, shall I? Yes. No?”

“Right-o!”

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