For myself, I found our stay at Brighton highly enjoyable, and should have been willing to extend it but Mr. Wooster, still restless, wearied of the place by the end of two days, and on the third afternoon he instructed me to pack up and bring the car round to the hotel. We started back along the London road at about five of a fine summer’s day, and had travelled perhaps two miles when I perceived in the road before us a young lady, gesticulating with no little animation. I applied the brake and brought the vehicle to a standstill.

“What,” inquired Mr. Wooster, waking from a reverie, “is the big thought at the back of this, Jeeves?”

“I observed a young lady endeavouring to attract our attention with signals a little way down the road, sir,” I explained. “She is now making her way towards us.”

Mr. Wooster peered.