“Say on, Jeeves,” I said.

“Thank you, sir. What I desired to say, sir, was this: I attended a performance at the local cinema last night.”

I raised the eyebrows. I was surprised at the man. With life in the home so frightfully tense and the young master up against it to such a fearful extent, I disapproved of him coming toddling in and prattling about his amusements.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” I said in rather a nasty manner.

“Yes, sir, thank you. The management was presenting a super-super-film in seven reels, dealing with life in the wilder and more feverish strata of New York Society, featuring Bertha Blevitch, Orlando Murphy and Baby Bobbie. I found it most entertaining, sir.”