There was no cheering young Bingo up. He’s one of those birds who simply leap at the morbid view, if you give them half a chance.

“There are all sorts of ways of nobbling favourites,” he said, in a sort of deathbed voice. “You ought to read some of these racing novels. In Pipped on the Post , Lord Jasper Mauleverer as near as a toucher outed Bonny Betsy by bribing the head lad to slip a cobra into her stable the night before the Derby!”

“What are the chances of a cobra biting Harold, Jeeves?”

“Slight, I should imagine, sir. And in such an event, knowing the boy as intimately as I do, my anxiety would be entirely for the snake.”

“Still, unceasing vigilance, Jeeves.”

“Most certainly, sir.”