“Jeeves,” I said, “I had scarcely expected this of you. You are aware
that I was up to an advanced hour last night. You know that I have
barely had my tea. You cannot be ignorant of the effect of that hearty
voice of Aunt Dahlia’s on a man with a headache. And yet you come
bringing me Fink-Nottles. Is this a time for Fink or any other kind of
Nottle?”
“But did you not give me to understand, sir, that you wished to see Mr.
Fink-Nottle to advise him on his affairs?”
This, I admit, opened up a new line of thought. In the stress of my
emotions, I had clean forgotten about having taken Gussie’s interests
in hand. It altered things. One can’t give the raspberry to a client.
I mean, you didn’t find Sherlock Holmes refusing to see clients just
because he had been out late the night before at Doctor Watson’s
birthday party. I could have wished that the man had selected some
more suitable hour for approaching me, but as he appeared to be a sort
of human lark, leaving his watery nest at daybreak, I supposed I had
better give him an audience.
“True,” I said. “All right. Bung him in.”
“Very good, sir.”
“But before doing so, bring me one of those pick-me-ups of yours.”
“Very good, sir.”
And presently he returned with the vital essence.
I have had occasion, I fancy, to speak before now of these pick-me-ups
of Jeeves’s and their effect on a fellow who is hanging to life by a
thread on the morning after. What they consist of, I couldn’t tell you.
He says some kind of sauce, the yolk of a raw egg and a dash of red
pepper, but nothing will convince me that the thing doesn’t go much
deeper than that. Be that as it may, however, the results of swallowing
one are amazing.
For perhaps the split part of a second nothing happens. It is as though
all Nature waited breathless. Then, suddenly, it is as if the Last
Trump had sounded and Judgment Day set in with unusual severity.
Bonfires burst out in all in parts of the frame. The abdomen becomes
heavily charged with molten lava. A great wind seems to blow through
the world, and the subject is aware of something resembling a steam
hammer striking the back of the head. During this phase, the ears ring
loudly, the eyeballs rotate and there is a tingling about the brow.
And then, just as you are feeling that you ought to ring up your lawyer
and see that your affairs are in order before it is too late, the whole
situation seems to clarify. The wind drops. The ears cease to ring.
Birds twitter. Brass bands start playing. The sun comes up over the
horizon with a jerk.
And a moment later all you are conscious of is a great peace.
As I drained the glass now, new life seemed to burgeon within me. I
remember Jeeves, who, however much he may go off the rails at times in
the matter of dress clothes and in his advice to those in love, has
always had a neat turn of phrase, once speaking of someone rising on
stepping-stones of his dead self to higher things. It was that way with
me now. I felt that the Bertram Wooster who lay propped up against the
pillows had become a better, stronger, finer Bertram.
“Thank you, Jeeves,” I said.
“Not at all, sir.”
“That touched the exact spot. I am now able to cope with life’s
problems.”
“I am gratified to hear it, sir.”
“What madness not to have had one of those before tackling Aunt Dahlia!
However, too late to worry about that now. Tell me of Gussie. How did
he make out at the fancy-dress ball?”
“He did not arrive at the fancy-dress ball, sir.”