He grinned back. “I just stopped in to see how it went with what I pumped into you last night. Apparently—”
“What? Oh. Yeah. Good God.” It struck me that the room seemed full of light. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to twelve.”
“No!” I twisted to see the clock. “Holy murder!” I jerked myself upright, and someone jabbed a thousand ice-picks into my skull. “Whoa, Bill.” I put my hands up to it and tried moving it slowly. I said to Vollmer, “What’s this I’ve got here, my head?”
He laughed. “It’ll be all right.”
“Yeah. You’re not saying when. Wowie! Is Mr. Wolfe down in the office?”
He nodded. “I spoke to him on the way up.”
“And it’s noon.” I slid to my feet. “Look out, I might run into you.” I started for the bathroom.
I began soaping up, and he came to the bathroom door and said he had left instructions with Fritz for my breakfast. I told him I didn’t want instructions, I wanted ham and eggs. He laughed again, and beat it. I was glad to hear him laugh, because it seemed likely that if there really were ice-picks sticking in my head he, being a doctor, would be taking them out instead of laughing at me.
I made it as snappy as I could with my dizziness, cleansing the form and assuming the day’s draperies, and went downstairs in pretty good style but hanging onto the banister.