But on the morrow all those telegrams started coming in, and I confess
that for twenty-four hours I didn't give the poor chap a thought, having
problems of my own to contend with.



-3-


The first of the telegram arrived shortly after noon, and Jeeves brought
it in with the before-luncheon snifter. It was from my Aunt Dahlia,
operating from Market Snodsbury, a small town of sorts a mile or two
along the main road as you leave her country seat.

It ran as follows:

_Come at once. Travers._

And when I say it puzzled me like the dickens, I am understating it; if
anything. As mysterious a communication, I considered, as was ever
flashed over the wires. I studied it in a profound reverie for the best
part of two dry Martinis and a dividend. I read it backwards. I read it
forwards. As a matter of fact, I have a sort of recollection of even
smelling it. But it still baffled me.

Consider the facts, I mean. It was only a few hours since this aunt and I
had parted, after being in constant association for nearly two months.
And yet here she was--with my farewell kiss still lingering on her cheek,
so to speak--pleading for another reunion. Bertram Wooster is not
accustomed to this gluttonous appetite for his society. Ask anyone who