“Well, you see, old Sir Roderick, who’s a loony-doctor and nothing but a loony-doctor, however much you may call him a nerve specialist, discovered that there was a modicum of insanity in my family. Nothing serious. Just one of my uncles. Used to keep rabbits in his bedroom. And the old boy came to lunch here to give me the once-over, and Jeeves arranged matters so that he went away firmly convinced that I was off my onion.”
“I see,” said Biffy, thoughtfully. “The trouble is there isn’t any insanity in my family.”
“None?”
It seemed to me almost incredible that a fellow could be such a perfect chump as dear old Biffy without a bit of assistance.
“Not a loony on the list,” he said, gloomily. “It’s just like my luck. The old boy’s coming to lunch with me tomorrow, no doubt to test me as he did you. And I never felt saner in my life.”
I thought for a moment. The idea of meeting Sir Roderick again gave me a cold shivery feeling; but when there is a chance of helping a pal we Woosters have no thought of self.
“Look here, Biffy,” I said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll roll up for that lunch. It may easily happen that when he finds you are a pal of mine he will forbid the banns right away and no more questions asked.”
“Something in that,” said Biffy, brightening. “Awfully sporting of you, Bertie.”
“Oh, not at all,” I said. “And meanwhile I’ll consult Jeeves. Put the whole thing up to him and ask his advice. He’s never failed me yet.”
Biffy pushed off, a good deal braced, and I went into the kitchen.