came trickling in, looking pretty sorry for himself.

"Halloa, Bicky!" I said. "Jeeves told me you had been trying to get me.
Jeeves, bring another glass, and let the revels commence. What's the
trouble, Bicky?"

"I'm in a hole, Bertie. I want your advice."

"Say on, old lad!"

"My uncle's turning up to-morrow, Bertie."

"So Jeeves told me."

"The Duke of Chiswick, you know."

"So Jeeves told me."

Bicky seemed a bit surprised.

"Jeeves seems to know everything."

"Rather rummily, that's exactly what I was thinking
just now myself."

"Well, I wish," said Bicky gloomily, "that he knew a way to get me out
of the hole I'm in."

Jeeves shimmered in with the glass, and stuck it competently on the
table.