"I say! If this correction they're talking about is real, Jeeves." He shook the bank statement and letters he had been examining. "And not merely a compounding error – is compounding the word I'm after?"

"Quite possibly, sir."

"Anyway, if the numbers here are right it's a dashed embarrassment of riches. There's no bally need for this amount. All it's good for at that level is more acquaintances touching me for a loan and more investors sniffing around. Lord... tell me I'm seeing this right."

"Sir, you could purchase and staff three estates with this amount."

"I've got to bury this thing, Jeeves. Not that wealth goes to the deserving, god knows, but it's frankly indecent."

I could see that he was honestly disturbed, and while I could not remotely relate to such a problem, I could understand his distress. He already struggled with false friends using him for their entrepreneurial ventures, as well as relatives treating him as invulnerable to harm by dint of being well off.

"Well, would you take some? I can fork it over on the sly, put away a bit of a nest egg for you. Though I can't say I understand the phrase, because where else would an egg be, if not on or adjacent to toast?"

"If such a gift were to be discovered by outside parties, it could easily be interpreted as manipulation or embezzlement on my part, sir."

"Is that your little way of saying, 'I don't want your filthy money, Wooster,' or more like a 'try again, old thing, I'm not making it that easy?'"

I finally conceded to sit at the dining room table across from him, in the seat where I often arrange payment for the household's bills. "It is not a complete rejection of the notion, sir. I am not looking for a gift, however."

"Ah! You'd want it to be payment for services rendered?"

"That is my preferred way to receive remuneration." While true, it was meant as a kind of joke, but his earnest manner occasionally makes it difficult to tell how such an effort has landed.

"For what?" he said, then his expression flickered. His ears slowly burned red. This bodily reaction caught my interest, and I declined to look away as he attempted to tame some visceral embarrassment that had overtaken him. It might be kind to ignore this and let it pass, but it did not always benefit him for me to be kind.

I tested him gently. "There remains the matter of the form such an exchange would take."

His eyes looked very blue over the rose of his cheeks. "Er, form." Flicker.

"By which I mean, if it is not rigorously recorded as payment for specific services, such as editing work, any gifts would need to be in kind."

Flicker.

I pressed on, keeping my tone even rather than obviously teasing. There was something there, perhaps something about paying out money, that he found provocative. "Such as the gift of a house, an automobile, jewelry, or similar items. I admit that I do not desire any of the things I have listed, however."

Flicker.

"Sir." I offered him a chance to unburden himself. "What is it?"

He swallowed. "I don't think I can say this to you, Jeeves."

I rose, and went to the sideboard.

"Lord, yes, a splash of something would be perfect, thank you. Pour yourself one too if you actually want to continue this conversation."

I set his drink before him before mixing my own. I sat across from my master once again, studying his face. His lower lip had been bitten raw and puffy while my back was turned. Something sexually provocative, then; that narrowed the possibilities.

"I didn't mean that to get at some of this windfall you need to hear the less-than-preux thingummybob, er, stream of conscience. I'll find some way to share my treasure with you. Let no more be said, actually." He straightened his back and shuffled the papers about on the table. I noticed he had snapped the pencil he had been using, and tried to remember if and when I might have heard it break. "I ought to have been paying you extra right along for editing the stories. I'm sorry I didn't think of it."

"You did, sir. Please recall that you tipped me generously at the time each story was accepted for publication."

"Yes, well." He waved a hand. "In light of this, it wasn't enough."

This, I felt, was going rather poorly. "It is neither necessary nor appropriate to backdate every perceived debt to reflect your current fortune. You paid me what the work was worth, which was all I would have asked. Indeed, I counted the editing as part of my secretarial tasks as your valet, and did not ask for compensation. Sir."

He seemed to feel that I meant it to sting. "Are you angry with me?"

"No, sir. Frustrated, perhaps, that you look back on our past agreements and now feel unsatisfied. Sir, while this adjustment to your circumstances would be life-changing to most, it is in a practical sense nearly immaterial since your needs were already amply met. The only thing you must decide is how to use a new surplus. That said, I would also ask you to consider this change a significant life event, one that is more than capable of disturbing your thoughts. I would ask you to rest on this, and not make any major decisions immediately after receiving the news."

His eyes flicked over me again, and squeezed shut in a look of near-pain. Then he shook his head hard and drained his drink. "Dashed good advice, Jeeves. I'm so glad to have you on my side. As always."

"Thank you, sir." I let him put it away.