“Oh, by the way, Bertie,” said Aunt Dahlia, “I withdraw any harsh expressions I may have used about your man Jeeves. A most capable feller!”

“Jeeves?”

“Yes, he attended to the negotiations. And very well he did it, too. And he hasn’t lost by it, you can bet. I saw to that. I’m grateful to him. Why, if Tom gives up a couple of thousand now, practically without a murmur, the imagination reels at what he’ll do with Anatole cooking regularly for him. He’ll be signing cheques in his sleep.”

I got up. Aunt Dahlia pleaded with me to stick around and watch Uncle Tom in action, claiming it to be a sight nobody should miss, but I couldn’t wait. I rushed up the hill, left a farewell note for Uncle George, and caught the next train for London.

“Jeeves,” I said, when I had washed off the stains of travel, “tell me frankly all about it. Be as frank as Lady Bablockhythe.”