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The boy whom Sergeant Collard had seen climbing the pipe must have been making for this study. He spun around and met Psmith's blandly inquiring gaze. He looked at Psmith carefully for a moment. No. The boy he had chased last night had not been Psmith. That exquisite's figure and general appearance were unmistakable, even in the dusk. "Whom did you say you shared this study with, Smith?"
Hours seemed to pass, and then at last he heard Psmith's voice saying good-bye to his host. He sprang to his feet. Comrade Prebble was in the middle of a sentence, but this was no time for polished courtesy. He felt that he must get away, and at once. 'I fear, Psmith was saying, 'that we must tear ourselves away. We have greatly enjoyed our evening.
When the ferry-boat had borne Mike off across the river, Psmith turned to stroll to the office of Cosy Moments. The day was fine, and on the whole, despite Mike's desertion, he felt pleased with life. Psmith's was a nature which required a certain amount of stimulus in the way of gentle excitement; and it seemed to him that the conduct of the remodelled Cosy Moments might supply this.
Psmith's face lit up. 'I am always glad to sweeten the monotony of toil with a chat with Little Clarence, he said. 'I shall be with him in a moment. He cleaned his pen very carefully, placed it beside his ledger, flicked a little dust off his coatsleeve, and made his way to the manager's room. Mr Bickersdyke received him with the ominous restraint of a tiger crouching for its spring.
The frenzy of the chase is beginning to enter into my blood. Here we have " Mr. Downing stopped short. "Is this impertinence studied, Smith?" "Ferguson's study, sir? No, sir. That's farther down the passage. This is Barnes's." Mr. Downing looked at him closely. Psmith's face was wooden in its gravity. The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on. "Whose is this?" he asked, rapping a door.
He was as certain as he could be of anything that the missing piece of evidence was somewhere in the study. It was no use asking Psmith point-blank where it was, for Psmith's ability to parry dangerous questions with evasive answers was quite out of the common. His eye roamed about the room. There was very little cover there, even for so small a fugitive as a number nine boot.
The way he himself looked at it, said Psmith, was that the thing had been a moral victory for the United. Mr Rossiter said yes, he thought so too. And it was at this moment that Mr Bickersdyke sent for him to ask whether Psmith's work was satisfactory. The head of the Postage Department gave his opinion without hesitation. Psmith's work was about the hottest proposition he had ever struck.
I was a fool to do it, I suppose, but I got so mad. They knew perfectly well that I had nothing to do with any pool-room downstairs." Psmith's eye-glass dropped from his eye. "Pool-room, Comrade Windsor?" "Yes. The house where I live was raided late last night. It seems that some gamblers have been running a pool-room on the ground floor.
Philpotts and a gazebo what calls himself Waterman and about 'steen more of dem." A faint smile appeared upon Psmith's face. "And is Comrade Windsor in there, too, in the middle of them?" "Nope. Mr. Windsor's out to lunch." "Comrade Windsor knows his business. Why did you let them in?" "Sure, dey just butted in," said Master Maloney complainingly.
It was this which drew to him those who had intelligence enough to see beyond his sometimes rather forbidding manner, and to realize that his blunt speech was largely due to shyness. In spite of his prejudice against Edward, he could put himself into Mr Waller's place, and see the thing from his point of view. Psmith's injunction to him not to talk much was unnecessary.
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