Bertie is forced to go to the Steeple Bumpleigh the lair of his Uncle Percy and Aunt Agatha, the one who chews broken bottles and kills rats with her teeth. The rest is known as The Steeple Bumpleigh Horror[...]I remained rooted to the spot, staring dazedly into the darkness. Winged creatures of the night came bumping into the old face and bumping off again, while others used the back sketches of my neck as a skating rink, but I did not even raise a hand to interfere with their revels. This awful thing that had come upon me had partially turned me into a pillar of salt. I doubt, if the moth, or whatever it was that was doing Swedish exercise in and around my left ear, had the remotest notion that it had parked itself on the person of once vivacious young clubman. A tree, it probably through, or possibly even the living rock.