He repeated the cast of characters, asked me if I would care for another drop of port, a suggestion with which I readily fell in, and proceeded.

'George, a young man of volcanic passions, met Bertha Simmons at a dance at Putney Town Hall in aid of the widows of deceased railway porters and became instantly enamoured. And his love was returned. When he encountered Bertha next day in Putney High Street and, taking her off to a confectioner's for an ice cream, offered her with it his hand and heart, she accepted them enthusiastically. She said that when they were dancing together on the previous night something had seemed to go all over her, and he said he had had exactly the same experience.'

'Twin souls, what?'

'A most accurate description.'

'In fact, so far, so good.'

'Precisely. But there was an obstacle, and a very serious one. George was a swimming instructor at the local baths, and Mr Simmons had higher views for his daughter. He forbade the marriage. I am speaking, of course, of the days when fathers did forbid marriage. It was only when George saved him from drowning that he relented and gave the young couple his consent and blessing.'

'How did that happen?'

'Perfectly simple. I took Mr Simmons for a stroll on the river bank and pushed him in, and George, who was waiting in readiness, dived into the water and pulled him out. Naturally I had to undergo a certain amount of criticism of my clumsiness, and it was many weeks before I received another invitation to Sunday supper at Chatsworth, the Simmons residence, quite a privation in those days when I was a penniless medical student and perpetually hungry, but I was glad to sacrifice myself to help a friend and the results, as far as George was concerned, were of the happiest. And what crossed my mind, as you were telling me of Mr Herring's desire to ingratiate himself with Mr Upjohn, was that a similar –is «set-up» the term you young fellows use? – would answer in his case. All the facilities are here at Brinkley Court. In my rambles about the grounds I have noticed a small but quite adequate lake, and … well, there you have it, my dear Bertie. I throw it out, of course, merely as a suggestion.'

His words left me all of a glow. When I thought how I had misjudged him in the days when our relations had been distant, I burned with shame and remorse. It seemed incredible that I could ever have looked on this admirable loony-doctor as the menace in the treatment. What a lesson, I felt, this should teach all of us that a man may have a bald head and bushy eyebrows and still remain at heart a jovial sportsman and one of the boys. There was about an inch of the ruby juice nestling in my glass, and as he finished speaking I raised the beaker in a reverent toast. I told him he had hit the bull's eye and was entitled to a cigar or coconut according to choice.

'I'll go and take the matter up with my principals immediately.'

'Can Mr Herring swim?'

'Like several fishes.'

'Then I see no obstacle in the path.'

We parted with mutual expressions of good will, and it was only after I had emerged into the summer air that I remembered I hadn't told him that Wilbert had purchased, not pinched, the cow-creamer, and for a moment I thought of going back to apprise him. But I thought again, and didn't. First things first, I said to myself, and the item at the top of the agenda paper was the bringing of a new sparkle to Kipper's eyes. Later on, I told myself, would do, and carried on to where he and Bobbie were pacing the lawn with bowed heads. It would not be long, I anticipated, before I would be bringing those heads up with a jerk.

Nor was I in error. Their enthusiasm was unstinted. Both agreed unreservedly that if Upjohn had the merest spark of human feeling in him, which of course had still to be proved, the thing was in the bag.

'But you never thought this up yourself, Bertie,' said Bobbie, always inclined to underestimate the Wooster shrewdness. 'You've been talking to Jeeves.'

'No, as a matter of fact, it was Swordfish who had the idea.'

Kipper seemed surprised.

'You mean you told him about it?'

'I thought it the strategic move. Four heads are better than three.'

'And he advised shoving Upjohn into the lake?'

'That's right.'

'Rather a peculiar butler.'

I turned this over in my mind.

'Peculiar? Oh, I don't know. Fairly run-of-the-mill I should call him. Yes, more or less the usual type,' I said.

15

With self all eagerness and enthusiasm for the work in hand, straining at the leash, as you might say, and full of the will to win, it came as a bit of a damper when I found on the following afternoon that Jeeves didn't think highly of Operation Upjohn. I told him about it just before starting out for the tryst, feeling that it would be helpful to have his moral support, and was stunned to see that his manner was austere and even puff-faced. He was giving me a description at the time of how it felt to act as judge at a seaside bathing belles contest, and it was with regret that I was compelled to break into this, for he had been holding me spellbound.

'I'm sorry, Jeeves,' I said, consulting my watch, 'but I shall have to be dashing off. Urgent appointment. You must tell me the rest later.'

'At any time that suits you, sir.'

'Are you doing anything for the next half-hour or so?'

'No, sir.'

'Not planning to curl up in some shady nook with a cigarette and Spinoza?'

'No, sir.'

'Then I strongly advise you to come down to the lake and witness a human drama.'

And in a few brief words I outlined the programme and the events which had led up to it. He listened attentively and raised his left eyebrow a fraction of an inch.

'Was this Miss Wickham's idea, sir?'

'No. I agree that it sounds like one of hers, but actually it was Sir Roderick Glossop who suggested it. By the way, you were probably surprised to find him buttling here.'

'It did occasion me a momentary astonishment, but Sir Roderick explained the circumstances.'

'Fearing that if he didn't let you in on it, you might unmask him in front of Mrs Cream?'

'No doubt, sir. He would naturally wish to take all precautions. I gathered from his remarks that he has not yet reached a definite conclusion regarding the mental condition of Mr Cream.'

'No, he's still observing. Well, as I say, it was from his fertile bean that the idea sprang. What do you think of it?'

'Ill-advised, sir, in my opinion.'

I was amazed. I could hardly b. my e.

'Ill-advised?'

'Yes, sir.'

'But it worked without a hitch in the case of Bertha Simmons, George Lanchester and old Mr Simmons.'

'Very possibly, sir.'

Then why this defeatist attitude?'

'It is merely a feeling, sir, due probably to my preference for finesse. I mistrust these elaborate schemes. One cannot depend on them. As the poet Burns says, the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley.'

'Scotch, isn't it, that word?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I thought as much. The «gang» told the story. Why do Scotsmen say gang?'

'I have no information, sir. They have not confided in me.'

I was getting a bit peeved by now, not at all liking the sniffiness of his manner. I had expected him to speed me on my way with words of encouragement and.uplift, not to go trying to blunt the keen edge of my zest like this. I was rather in the position of a child who runs to his mother hoping for approval and endorsement of something he's done, and is awarded instead a brusque kick in the pants. It was with a good deal of warmth that I came back at him.

'So you think the poet Burns would look askance at this enterprise of ours, do you? Well, you can tell him from me he's an ass. We've thought the thing out to the last detail. Miss Wickham asks Mr Upjohn to come for a stroll with her. She leads him to the lake. I am standing on the brink, ostensibly taking a look at the fishes playing amongst the reeds. Kipper, ready to the last button, is behind a neighbouring tree. On the cue «Oh, look!» from Miss Wickham, accompanied by business of pointing with girlish excitement at something in the water, Upjohn bends over to peer. I push, Kipper dives in, and there we are. Nothing can possibly go wrong.'