"Sir, yes, sir."

"What do you mean--sir, yes, sir? Dashed silly thing to say. So you've
won the Scripture-knowledge prize, have you?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Yes," said Gussie, "you look just the sort of little tick who would. And
yet," he said, pausing and eyeing the child keenly, "how are we to know
that this has all been open and above board? Let me test you, G.G.
Simmons. What was What's-His-Name--the chap who begat Thingummy? Can you
answer me that, Simmons?"

"Sir, no, sir."

Gussie turned to the bearded bloke.

"Fishy," he said. "Very fishy. This boy appears to be totally lacking in
Scripture knowledge."

The bearded bloke passed a hand across his forehead.

"I can assure you, Mr. Fink-Nottle, that every care was taken to ensure a
correct marking and that Simmons outdistanced his competitors by a wide
margin."

"Well, if you say so," said Gussie doubtfully. "All right, G.G. Simmons,
take your prize."

"Sir, thank you, sir."

"But let me tell you that there's nothing to stick on side about in
winning a prize for Scripture knowledge. Bertie Wooster----"

I don't know when I've had a nastier shock. I had been going on the
assumption that, now that they had stopped him making his speech,
Gussie's fangs had been drawn, as you might say. To duck my head down and
resume my edging toward the door was with me the work of a moment.

"Bertie Wooster won the Scripture-knowledge prize at a kids' school we
were at together, and you know what he's like. But, of course, Bertie
frankly cheated. He succeeded in scrounging that Scripture-knowledge
trophy over the heads of better men by means of some of the rawest and
most brazen swindling methods ever witnessed even at a school where such
things were common. If that man's pockets, as he entered the
examination-room, were not stuffed to bursting-point with lists of the
kings of Judah----"

I heard no more. A moment later I was out in God's air, fumbling with a
fevered foot at the self-starter of the old car.

The engine raced. The clutch slid into position. I tooted and drove off.

My ganglions were still vibrating as I ran the car into the stables of
Brinkley Court, and it was a much shaken Bertram who tottered up to his
room to change into something loose. Having donned flannels, I lay down
on the bed for a bit, and I suppose I must have dozed off, for the next
thing I remember is finding Jeeves at my side.

I sat up. "My tea, Jeeves?"

"No, sir. It is nea