When Uncle Peter decided to clean outthe underworld, it was a fine thing forthe town, but it was tough on the folks inTibet.
David Nixon,
Chief of Police,
Morton City.
Dear Chief Nixon:
No doubt, by this time, you andyour boys are a pretty bewilderedlot. You have all probably lostweight wondering what has beengoing on in Morton City; whereall the gangsters went, and why theunderworld has vanished like abucket of soap bubbles.
Not being acquainted with myuncle, Peter Nicholas, with BagEars Mulligan, with the gorgeousJoy Nicholas, my bride of scarcelytwenty-four hours, or with me,Homer Nicholas, you have of coursebeen out of touch with a series ofswiftly moving events just culminated.
You, above all others, are entitledto know what has been happeningin our fair city. Hence this letter.When you receive it, Joy and I willbe on the way to Europe in pursuitof a most elusive honeymoon. UnclePeter will be headed for Tibet inorder to interview certain very importantpeople you and your departmentnever heard of. Bag Earswill probably be off somewheresearching for his bells, and I suggestyou let him keep right onsearching, because Bag Ears isn'tone to answer questions with verymuch intelligence.
So, because of the fact that agreat deal of good has been done atno cost whatever to the taxpayers,I suggest you read this letter andthen forget about the whole thing.
It all started when Joy and Ifinally got an audience with UnclePeter in his laboratory yesterdaymorning. Possibly you will think itstrange that I should have difficultyin contacting my own close relative.But you don't know Uncle Peter.
He is a strange mixture of thedoer and the dreamer—the geniusand the child. Parts of his brainnever passed third grade whileother parts could sit down and tieEinstein in knots during a discussionof nuclear physics, advancedmathematics or what have you. Helives in a small bungalow at theedge of town, in the basement ofwhich is his laboratory. A steeldoor bars the public from thislaboratory and it was upon thisdoor that Joy and I pounded futilelyfor three days. Finally the dooropened and Uncle Peter greeted us.
"Homer—my dear boy! Haveyou been knocking long?"
"Quite a while, Uncle Peter—offand on that is. I have some newsfor you. I am going to get married."
My uncle became visibly disturbed."My boy! That's wonderful—trulywonderful. But I'm certainlysurprised at you. Tsk-tsk-tsk!"
"What do you mean by tsk-tsk-tsk?"
"Your moral training has beenbadly neglected. You plan marriageeven while traveling about in thecompany of this woman you havewith you."
Joy is a lady of the finest breeding,but she can be caught off-guardat times. This was one of the times.She said, "Listen here, you bald-headedjerk. Nobody calls me awoman—"
Uncle Peter was mildly interested."Then if you aren't a woman,what—?"
I hastened to intervene. "Youdidn't let Joy finish, Uncle Peter.She no doubt would have added—'inthat tone of voice.' And I thinkher attitude is entirely justified. Joyis a fine girl and my intendedbride."
"Oh, why didn't you say so?"
"I supposed you would assumeas much."
"My boy, I am a scientist. Ascientist assumes nothing. But Iwish to apologize to the young ladyand I hope you two will be veryhappy."
"That's better," Joy said, withonly a shade of truculence.
"And now," Uncle Peter went on."It would be very thoughtful of youto leave. I am working on a serumwhich will have a great deal todo with chang