you wish, sir?"

"It is. I stake everything on propinquity, Jeeves. Propinquity, in my
opinion, is what will do the trick. At the moment, as you are aware,
Gussie is a mere jelly when in the presence. But ask yourself how he will
feel in a week or so, after he and she have been helping themselves to
sausages out of the same dish day after day at the breakfast sideboard.
Cutting the same ham, ladling out communal kidneys and bacon--why----"

I broke off abruptly. I had had one of my ideas.

"Golly, Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"Here's an instance of how you have to think of everything. You heard me
mention sausages, kidneys and bacon and ham."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, there must be nothing of that. Fatal. The wrong note entirely.
Give me that telegraph form and pencil. I must warn Gussie without delay.
What he's got to do is to create in this girl's mind the impression that
he is pining away for love of her. This cannot be done by wolfing
sausages."

"No, sir."

"Very well, then."

And, taking form and _p._, I drafted the following:

_Fink-Nottle

Brinkley Court,

Market Snodsbury

Worcestershire

Lay off the sausages. Avoid the ham. Bertie._

"Send that off, Jeeves, instanter."

"Very good, sir."

I sank back on the pillows.

"Well, Jeeves," I said, "you see how I am taking hold. You notice the
grip I am getting on this case. No doubt you realize now that it would
pay you to study my methods."

"No doubt, sir."

"And even now you aren't on to the full depths of the extraordinary
sagacity I've shown. Do you know what brought Aunt Dahlia up here this
morning? She came to tell me I'd got to distribute the prizes at some
beastly seminary she's a governor of down at Market Snodsbury."

"Indeed, sir? I fear you will scarcely find that a congenial task."

"Ah, but I'm not going to do it. I'm going to shove it off on to Gussie."

"Sir?"

"I propose, Jeeves, to wire to Aunt Dahlia saying that I can't get down,
and suggesting that she unleashes him on these young Borstal inmates of
hers in my stead."

"But if Mr. Fink-Nottle should decline, sir?"

"Decline? Can you see him declining? Just conjure up the picture in your
mind, Jeeves. Scene, the drawing-room at Brinkley; Gussie wedged into a
corner, with Aunt Dahlia standing over him making hunting noises. I put
it to you, Jeeves, can you see him declining?"

"Not readily, sir. I agree. Mrs. Travers is a forceful personality."

"He won't have a hope of d