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It was all very well for Bingo to say that I was slated for a magnificent lunch; but what good is the best possible lunch to a fellow if he is slung out into the street on his ear during the soup course? However, the word of a Wooster is his bond and all that sort of rot, so at one-thirty next day I tottered up the steps of No. 16, Pounceby Gardens, and punched the bell.
A fly carried him in ten minutes to her door, and she herself admitted him. 'Come in, Paul, she said 'I have been thinking, and I want to speak to you very, very seriously. She led him into her sitting-room. 'Miss Pounceby is out for the day, so that we shall have time to talk together. Miss Pounceby was the ingénue, and she and Claudia lived together.
It's about Mr. Little." "Young Mr. Little, sir, or the elder Mr. Little, his uncle, who lives in Pounceby Gardens?" Jeeves seemed to know everything. Most amazing thing. I'd been pally with Bingo practically all my life, and yet I didn't remember ever having heard that his uncle lived anywhere in particular. "How did you know he lived in Pounceby Gardens?" I said.
Claudia sent out word that he might call again in an hour, and, glancing disconsolately at the window of her sitting-room as he walked away, he saw Miss Pounceby giggling behind the curtains with her head in a bush of curlpapers. He paced the streets until the hour had gone by, and then returned. 'What brings you here so early? Claudia asked.
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