‘Certainly somewhat disturbing, sir.’
‘If Gussie is seething with revolt, anything may happen.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is there nothing we can do?’
‘It might be possible for you to reason with Miss Bassett, sir. You would have a talking point. Medical research has established that the ideal diet is one in which animal and vegetable foods are balanced. A strict vegetarian diet is not recommended by the majority of doctors, as it lacks sufficient protein and in particular does not contain the protein which is built up of the amino-acids required by the body. Competent observers have traced some cases of mental disorder to this shortage.’
‘You’d tell her that?’
‘It might prove helpful, sir.’
‘I doubt it,’ I said, blowing a despondent smoke ring. ‘I don’t think it would sway her.’
‘Nor on consideration do I, sir. The poet Shelley regarded the matter from the humanitarian standpoint rather than that of bodily health.
He held that we should show reverence for other life forms, and it is his views that Miss Bassett has absorbed.’
A hollow groan escaped me.
‘Curse the poet Shelley! I hope he trips over a loose shoelace and breaks his ruddy neck.’
‘Too late, sir. He is no longer with us.’
‘Blast all vegetables!’
‘Yes, sir. Your concern is understandable. I may mention that the cook expressed herself in a somewhat similar vein when I informed her of Mr. Fink-Nottle’s predicament. Her heart melted in sympathy with his distress.’
I was in no mood to hear about cooks’ hearts, soluble or otherwise, and I was about to say so, when he proceeded.
‘She instructed me to apprise Mr. Fink-Nottle that if he were agreeable to visiting the kitchen at some late hour when the household had retired for the night, she would be happy to supply him with cold steak and kidney pie.’
It was as if the sun had come smiling through the clouds or the long shot on which I had placed my wager had nosed its way past the opposition in the last ten yards and won by a short head. For the peril that had threatened to split the Bassett-Fink-Nottle axis had been averted. I knew Gussie from soup to nuts. Cut him off from the proteins and the amino-acids, and you soured his normally amiable nature, turning him into a sullen hater of his species who asked nothing better than to bite his n. and dearest and bite them good. But give him this steak and kidney pie outlet, thus allowing him to fulfil what they call his legitimate aspirations, and chagrin would vanish and he would become his old lovable self once more. The dark scowl would be replaced by the tender simper, the acid crack by the honeyed word, and all would be hotsy-totsy once more with his love life. My bosom swelled with gratitude to the cook whose quick thinking had solved the problem and brought home the bacon.
‘Who is she, Jeeves?’
‘Sir?’
‘This life-saving cook. I shall want to give her a special mention in my evening prayers.’
‘She is a woman of the name of Stoker, sir.’
‘Stoker? Did you say Stoker?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Odd!’
‘Sir?’
‘Nothing. Just a rather strange coincidence. Have you told Gussie?’
‘Yes, sir. I found him most co-operative. He plans to present himself in the kitchen shortly after midnight. Cold steak and kidney pie is, of course, merely a palliative -‘
‘On the contrary. It’s Gussie’s favourite dish. I’ve known him to order it even on curry day at the Drones. He loves the stuff.’
‘Indeed, sir? That is very gratifying.’
‘Gratifying is the word. What a lesson this teaches us, Jeeves, never to despair, never to throw in the towel and turn our face to the wall, for there is always hope.’
‘Yes, sir. Would you be requiring anything further?’
‘Not a thing, thanks. My cup runneth over.’
‘Then I will be saying good night, sir.’
‘Good night, Jeeves.’
After he had gone, I put in about half an hour on my Erie Stanley Gardner, but I found rather a difficulty in following the thread and keeping my attention on the clues. My thoughts kept straying to this epoch-making cook. Strange, I felt, that her name should be Stoker. Some relation, perhaps.