It was the morning of the day on which I was slated to pop down to my
aunt Agatha's place at Woollam Chersey in the county of Herts for a
visit of three solid weeks; and, as I seated myself at the breakfast
table, I don't mind confessing that the heart was singularly heavy.
We Woosters are men of iron, but beneath my intrepid exterior at that
moment there lurked a nameless dread.
"Jeeves," I said, "I am not the old merry self this morning."
"Indeed, sir?"
"No, Jeeves. Far from it. Far from the old merry self."
"I am sorry to hear that, sir."
He uncovered the fragrant eggs and b., and I pronged a moody forkful.
"Why--this is what I keep asking myself, Jeeves--why has my aunt Agatha
invited me to her country seat?"
"I could not say, sir."
"Not because she is fond of me."
"No, sir."
"It is a well-established fact that I give her a pain in the neck. How
it happens I cannot say, but every time our paths cross, so to speak,
it seems to be a mere matter of time before I perpetrate some ghastly
floater and have her hopping after me with her hatchet. The result
being that she regards me as a worm and an outcast and would gladly
drop something on me from a high window. 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 doorbell."
He shimmered out, and I took another listless stab at the e. and bacon.
"A telegram, sir," said Jeeves, reëntering 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 endeavouring to convey, sir."
"Let's have a look."