“Oh!” I said. “Well, that being so, we do seem to be more or less stymied. That article will have to appear after all, what?”
“No, it won’t.”
“Has Jeeves thought of another scheme?”
“No, but I have.” Bingo bent forward and patted my knee affectionately. “Look here, Bertie,” he said, “you and I were at school together. You’ll admit that?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you’re a fellow who never lets a pal down. That’s well known, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but listen, Bingo—”
“You’ll cluster round. Of course you will. As if,” said Bingo with a scornful laugh, “I ever doubted it! You won’t let an old schoolfriend down in his hour of need. Not you. Not Bertie Wooster. No, no!”
“Yes, but just one moment—”
Bingo massaged my shoulder soothingly.
“It’s all settled, Bertie, old man. Nothing for you to worry about. Nothing whatever. I see now that we made a mistake in ever trying to tackle this job in Jeeves’s silly, roundabout way. Much better to charge straight ahead without any of that finesse and fooling about. This afternoon I’m going to take Rosie to a matinée. I shall leave the window of her study open, and when we have got well away you will climb in, pinch the cylinder, and pop off again. It’s absurdly simple.”
“Yes, but half a second—”