A Damsel in Distress

He paused impressively to allow this startling statement to sink

in.

"And was he?" said George.

"Absolutely not! That was the rummy part of it. He looked as like

you as your twin brother."

"I haven't a twin brother."

"No, I know what you mean, but what I mean to say is he looked just

like your twin brother would have looked if you had had a twin

brother. Well, I had a word or two with this chappie, and after a

brief conversation it was borne in upon me that I was up to the

gills. Alice was with me at the time, and noticed it too. Now you'd

have thought that that would have put a girl off a fellow, and all

that. But no. Nobody could have been more sympathetic. And she has

confided to me since that it was seeing me in my oiled condition

that really turned the scale. What I mean is, she made up her mind

to save me from myself. You know how some girls are. Angels

absolutely! Always on the look out to pluck brands from the

burning, and what not. You may take it from me that the good seed

was definitely sown that night."

"Is that your recipe, then? You would advise the would-be

bridegroom to buy a case of champagne and a wedding licence and get

to work? After that it would be all over except sending out the

invitations?"

Reggie shook his head.

"Not at all. You need a lot more than that. That's only the start.

You've got to follow up the good work, you see. That's where a

number of chappies would slip up, and I'm pretty certain I should

have slipped up myself, but for another singularly rummy

occurrence. Have you ever had a what-do-you-call it? What's the

word I want? One of those things fellows get sometimes."

"Headaches?" hazarded George.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I don't mean anything you get--I mean

something you get, if you know what I mean."

"Measles?"

"Anonymous letter. That's what I was trying to say. It's a most

extraordinary thing, and I can't understand even now where the

deuce they came from, but just about then I started to get a whole

bunch of anonymous letters from some chappie unknown who didn't

sign his name."

"What you mean is that the letters were anonymous," said George.

"Absolutely. I used to get two or three a day sometimes. Whenever

I went up to my room, I'd find another waiting for me on the

dressing-table."

"Offensive?"

"Eh?"

"Were the letters offensive? Anonymous letters usually are."

"These weren't. Not at all, and quite the reverse. They

contained a series of perfectly topping tips on how a fellow should

proceed who wants to get hold of a girl."