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Especially if the girl he had earmarked was one of these tough modern thugs, all lipstick and cool, hard, sardonic eyes, as she probably was. "Tell me, Jeeves," I said, wishing to know the worst, "what sort of a girl is this girl of Gussie's?" "I have not met the young lady, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle speaks highly of her attractions." "Seemed to like her, did he?" "Yes, sir." "Did he mention her name?
That's why I was so amazed when you told me he had suddenly risen to the surface like this. I still can't believe it. I am inclined to think that there must be some mistake, and that this bird who has been calling here is some different variety of Fink-Nottle. The chap I know wears horn-rimmed spectacles and has a face like a fish. How does that check up with your data?"
Fink-Nottle had also left his latchkey on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber." "He could have rung the bell." "He did ring the bell, sir, for some fifteen minutes. At the expiration of that period he recalled that he had given permission to the caretaker the house was officially closed and all the staff on holiday to visit his sailor son at Portsmouth." "Golly, Jeeves!" "Yes, sir."
Fink-Nottle, Jeeves?" "No, sir." "I'm going to murder him." "Very good, sir." Tuppy withdrew, banging the door behind him, and I put Jeeves abreast. "Jeeves," I said, "do you know what? Mr. Fink-Nottle is engaged to my Cousin Angela." "Indeed, sir?" "Well, how about it? Do you grasp the psychology? Does it make sense? Only a few hours ago he was engaged to Miss Bassett."
Conceding the fact that Gussie Fink-Nottle, against all the ruling of the form book, might have fallen in love, why should he have been haunting my flat like this? No doubt the occasion was one of those when a fellow needs a friend, but I couldn't see what had made him pick on me. It wasn't as if he and I were in any way bosom.
Here was Jeeves making heavy weather about me wearing a perfectly ordinary white mess jacket, a garment not only tout ce qu'il y a de chic, but absolutely de rigueur, and in the same breath, as you might say, inciting Gussie Fink-Nottle to be a blot on the London scene in scarlet tights. Ironical, what? One looks askance at this sort of in-and-out running. "What has he got against Pierrots?"
Tuppy Glossop was knocking off dinner to melt Angela. Gussie Fink-Nottle was knocking off dinner to impress the Bassett. Aunt Dahlia must knock off dinner to soften Uncle Tom. For the beauty of this scheme of mine was that there was no limit to the number of entrants. Come one, come all, the more the merrier, and satisfaction guaranteed in every case. "I've got it," I said.
We had seen a lot of each other at one time, of course, but in the last two years I hadn't had so much as a post card from him. I put all this to Jeeves: "Odd, his coming to me. Still, if he did, he did. No argument about that. It must have been a nasty jar for the poor perisher when he found I wasn't here." "No, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle did not call to see you, sir." "Pull yourself together, Jeeves.
And I left before the finish." "Yes, sir. I observed your departure." "You couldn't blame me for withdrawing." "No, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle had undoubtedly become embarrassingly personal." "Was there much more of it after I went?" "No, sir. The proceedings terminated very shortly. Mr. Fink-Nottle's remarks with reference to Master G.G. Simmons brought about an early closure."
Fink-Nottle, belong essentially to what one might call the dreamer-type." "One might also call it the fatheaded type." "Yes, sir." "Well?" "On reaching No. 17, Suffolk Square, Mr. Fink-Nottle endeavoured to produce money to pay the fare." "What stopped him?" "The fact that he had no money, sir.
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