in with a telegram. At least, it wasn’t a telegram: it was a cable—from Aunt Agatha, and this is what it said:—
Has Cyril Bassington-Bassington called yet? On no account introduce him into theatrical circles. Vitally important. Letter follows.
I read it a couple of times.
“This is rummy, Jeeves!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Very rummy and dashed disturbing!”
“Will there be anything further tonight, sir?”
Of course, if he was going to be as bally unsympathetic as that there was nothing to be done. My idea had been to show him the cable and ask his advice. But if he was letting those purple socks rankle to that extent, the good old noblesse oblige of the Woosters couldn’t lower itself to the extent of pleading with the