Am I right or wrong, Jeeves?”
“Perfectly correct, sir.”
“And yet now she has absolutely insisted on my scratching all previous engagements and buzzing down to Woollam Chersey. She must have some sinister reason of which we know nothing. Can you blame me, Jeeves, if the heart is heavy?”
“No, sir. Excuse me, sir, I fancy I heard the front-door bell.”
He shimmered out, and I took another listless stab at the e. and bacon.
“A telegram, sir,” said Jeeves, reentering the presence.
“Open it, Jeeves, and read contents. Who is it from?”
“It is unsigned, sir.”
“You mean there’s no name at the end of it?”
“That is precisely what I was