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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
42
“Well,
as
I
say,
Jeeves
is
off
the
case.”
“But,
Bertie,
dash
it----”
“Jeeves,”
I
said
with
a
certain
asperity,
“is
no
longer
on
the
case.
I
am
now
in
sole
charge.”
“But
what
on
earth
can
you
do?”
I
curbed
my
resentment.
We
Woosters
are
fair-minded.
We
can
make
allowances
for
men
who
have
been
parading
London
all
night
in
scarlet
tights.
“That,”
I
said
quietly,
“we
shall
see.
Sit
down
and
let
us
confer.
I
am
bound
to
say
the
thing
seems
quite
simple
to
me.
You
say
this
girl
has
gone
to
visit
friends
in
the
country.
It
would
appear
obvious
that
you
must
go
there
too,
and
flock
round
her
like
a
poultice.
Elementary.”
“But
I
can’t
plant
myself
on
a
lot
of
perfect
strangers.”
“Don’t
you
know
these
people?”
“Of
course
I
don’t.
I
don’t
know
anybody.”
I
pursed
the
lips.
This
did
seem
to
complicate
matters
somewhat.
“All
that
I
know
is
that
their
name
is
Travers,
and
it’s
a
place
called
Brinkley
Court
down
in
Worcestershire.”
I
unpursed
my
lips.
“Gussie,”
I
said,
smiling
paternally,
“it
was
a
lucky
day
for
you
when
Bertram
Wooster
interested
himself
in
your
affairs.
As
I
foresaw
from
the
start,
I
can
fix
everything.
This
afternoon
you
shall
go
to
Brinkley
Court,
an
honoured
guest.”
He
quivered
like
a
mousse.
I
suppose
it
must
always
be
rather
a
thrilling
experience
for
the
novice
to
watch
me
taking
hold.
“But,
Bertie,
you
don’t
mean
you
know
these
Traverses?”
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