“Good evening, Jeeves.”
“I trust you had a pleasant drive, sir.”
“Very pleasant, thank you, Jeeves. Hand me a sock or two, will you?”
He did so, and I commenced to don.
“Well, Jeeves,” I said, reaching for the underlinen, “here we are again
at Brinkley Court in the county of Worcestershire.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A nice mess things seem to have gone and got themselves into in this
rustic joint.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The rift between Tuppy Glossop and my cousin Angela would appear to be
serious.”
“Yes, sir. Opinion in the servants’ hall is inclined to take a grave
view of the situation.”
“And the thought that springs to your mind, no doubt, is that I shall
have my work cut out to fix things up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are wrong, Jeeves. I have the thing well in hand.”
“You surprise me, sir.”
“I thought I should. Yes, Jeeves, I pondered on the matter most of
the way down here, and with the happiest results. I have just been in
conference with Mr. Glossop, and everything is taped out.”
“Indeed, sir? Might I inquire----”
“You know my methods, Jeeves. Apply them. Have you,” I asked, slipping
into the shirt and starting to adjust the cravat, “been gnawing on the
thing at all?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I have always been much attached to Miss Angela, and I
felt that it would afford me great pleasure were I to be able to be of
service to her.”
“A laudable sentiment. But I suppose you drew blank?”
“No, sir. I was rewarded with an idea.”
“What was it?”
“It occurred to me that a reconciliation might be effected between Mr.
Glossop and Miss Angela by appealing to that instinct which prompts
gentlemen in time of peril to hasten to the rescue of----”