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?"

"They are my Aunt Dahlia."

"My gosh!"

"You see now," I pointed out, "how lucky you were to get me behind you.
You go to Jeeves, and what does he do? He dresses you up in scarlet
tights and one of the foulest false beards of my experience, and sends
you off to fancy-dress balls. Result, agony of spirit and no progress. I
then take over and put you on the right lines. Could Jeeves have got you
into Brinkley Court? Not a chance. Aunt Dahlia isn't his aunt. I merely
mention these things."

"By Jove, Bertie, I don't know how to thank you."

"My dear chap!"

"But, I say."