"That's right. London rattles one. I shall be a different man altogether
in the country. What a bit of luck this Travers woman turning out to be
your aunt."

"I don't know what you mean, turning out to be my aunt. She has been my
aunt all along."

"I mean, how extraordinary that it should be your aunt that Madeline's
going to stay with."

"Not at all. She and my Cousin Angela are close friends. At Cannes she
was with us all the time."

"Oh, you met Madeline at Cannes, did you? By Jove, Bertie," said the poor
lizard devoutly, "I wish I could have seen her at Cannes. How wonderful
she must have looked in beach pyjamas! Oh, Bertie----"

"Quite," I said, a little distantly. Even when restored by one of
Jeeves's depth bombs, one doesn't want this sort of thing after a hard
night. I touched the bell and, when Jeeves appeared, requested him to
bring me telegraph form and pencil. I then wrote a well-worded
communication to Aunt Dahlia, informing her that I was sending my friend,
Augustus Fink-Nottle, down to Brinkley today to enjoy her hospitality,
and handed it to Gussie.

"Push that in at the first post office you pass," I said. "She will find
it waiting for her on her return."

Gussie popped along, flapping the telegram and looking like a close-up of
Joan Crawford, and I turned to Jeeves and gave him a précis of my