CHAPTER XIII
REVIEWING THE SITUATION
Arriving at the bed-sitting-room, Billy proceeded to occupy therocking-chair, and, as was his wont, began to rock himselfrhythmically to and fro. Psmith seated himself gracefully on thecouch-bed. There was a silence.
The events of the evening had been a revelation to Psmith. He hadnot realised before the extent of the ramifications of New York'sunderworld. That members of the gangs should crop up in the Astorroof-garden and in gorgeous raiment in the middle of Broadway was asurprise. When Billy Windsor had mentioned the gangs, he had formeda mental picture of low-browed hooligans, keeping carefully totheir own quarter of the town. This picture had been correct, asfar as it went, but it had not gone far enough. The bulk of thegangs of New York are of the hooligan class, and are rarely metwith outside their natural boundaries. But each gang has its moreprosperous members; gentlemen, who, like the man of the Astorroof-garden, support life by more delicate and genteel methods thanthe rest. The main body rely for their incomes, except atelection-time, on such primitive feats as robbing intoxicatedpedestrians. The aristocracy of the gangs soar higher.
It was a considerable time before Billy spoke.
"Say," he said, "this thing wants talking over."
"By all means, Comrade Windsor."
"It's this way. There's no doubt now that we're up against a mightybig proposition."
"Something of the sort would seem to be the case."
"It's like this. I'm going to see this through. It isn't only thatI want to do a bit of good to the poor cusses in those tenements,though I'd do it for that alone. But, as far as I'm concerned,there's something to it besides that. If we win out, I'm going toget a job out of one of the big dailies. It'll give me just thechance I need. See what I mean? Well, it's different with you. Idon't see that it's up to you to run the risk of getting yourselfput out of business with a black-jack, and maybe shot. Once you getmixed up with the gangs there's no saying what's going to be doing.Well, I don't see why you shouldn't quit. All this has got nothingto do with you. You're over here on a vacation. You haven't got tomake a living this side. You want to go about and have a good time,instead of getting mixed up with--"
He broke off.
"Well, that's what I wanted to say, anyway," he concluded.
Psmith looked at him reproachfully.
"Are you trying to _sack_ me, Comrade Windsor?"
"How's that?"
"In various treatises on 'How to Succeed in Literature,'" saidPsmith sadly, "which I have read from time to time, I have alwaysfound it stated that what the novice chiefly needed was an editorwho believed in him. In you, Comrade Windsor, I fancied that I hadfound such an editor."
"What's all this about?" demanded Billy. "I'm making no kick aboutyour work."
"I gathered from your remarks that you were anxious to receive myresignation."
"Well, I told you why. I didn't want you be black-jacked."
"Was that the only reason?"
"Sure."
"Then all is well," said Psmith, relieved. "For the moment Ifancied that my literary talents had been weighed in the balanceand adjudged below par. If that is all--why, these are the mereeveryday risks of the young journalist's life. Without them weshould be dull and dissatisfied. Our work would lose its fire. Mensuch as ourselves, Comrade Windsor, need a certain stimulus, acertain fillip, if they are to keep up their high standards. Theknowledge that a low-browed gentleman is waiting round the cornerwith a sand-bag poised in air will just supply that stimulus. Alsothat fillip. It will give our output precisely the edge itrequires."
"Then you'll stay in this thing? You'll stick to the work?"
"Like a conscientious leech, Comrade Windsor."
"Bully for you," said Billy.
It was not Psmith's habit, when he felt deeply on any subject, toexhibit his feelings; and this matter of the tenements had hit himharder than any one who did not know him intimately would haveimagined. Mike would have understood him, but Billy Windsor was toorecent an acquaintance. Psmith was one of those people who arecontent to accept most of the happenings of life in an airy spiritof tolerance. Life had been more or less of a game with him up tillnow. In his previous encounters with those with whom fate hadbrought him in contact there had been little at stake. The prize ofvictory had been merely a comfortable feeling of having had thebest of a battle of wits; the penalty of defeat nothing worse thanthe discomfort of having failed to score. But this tenementbusiness was different. Here he had touched the realities. Therewas something worth fighting for. His lot had been cast in pleasantplaces, and the sight of actual raw misery had come home to himwith an added force from that circumstance. He was fully aware ofthe risks that he must run. The words of the man at the Astor, andstill more the episodes of the family friend from Missouri and thetaximeter cab, had shown him that this thing was on a differentplane from anything that had happened to him before. It was a fightwithout the gloves, and to a finish at that. But he meant to see itthrough. Somehow or other those tenement houses had got to becleaned up. If it meant trouble, as it undoubtedly did, that troublewould have to be faced.
"Now that Comrade Jarvis," he said, "showing a spirit offorbearance which, I am bound to say, does him credit, has declinedthe congenial task of fracturing our occiputs, who should you say,Comrade Windsor, would be the chosen substitute?"
Billy shook his head. "Now that Bat has turned up the job, it mightbe any one of three gangs. There are four main gangs, you know.Bat's is the biggest. But the smallest of them's large enough toput us away, if we give them the chance."
"I don't quite grasp the nice points of this matter. Do you meanthat we have an entire gang on our trail in one solid mass, or willit be merely a section?"
"Well, a section, I guess, if it comes to that. Parker, or whoeverfixed this thing up, would go to the main boss of the gang. If itwas the Three Points, he'd go to Spider Reilly. If it was the TableHill lot, he'd look up Dude Dawson. And so on."
"And what then?"
"And then the boss would talk it over with his own specialpartners. Every gang-leader has about a dozen of them. A sort ofInner Circle. They'd fix it up among themselves. The rest of thegang wouldn't know anything about it. The fewer in the game, yousee, the fewer to split up the dollars."
"I see. Then things are not so black. All we have to do is to lookout for about a dozen hooligans with a natural dignity in theirbearing, the result of intimacy with the main boss. Carefullyeluding these aristocrats, we shall win through. I fancy, ComradeWindsor, that all may yet be well. What steps do you propose totake by way of self-defence?"
"Keep out in the middle of the street, and not go off the Broadwayafter dark. You're pretty safe on Broadway. There's too much lightfor them there."
"Now that our sleuth-hound friend in the taximeter has ascertainedyour address, shall you change it?"
"It wouldn't do any good. They'd soon find where I'd gone to. Howabout yours?"
"I fancy I shall be tolerably all right. A particularly massivepoliceman is on duty at my very doors. So much for our privatelives. But what of the day-time? Suppose these sandbag-specialistsdrop in at the office during business hours. Will Comrade Maloney'sfrank and manly statement that we are not in be sufficient to keepthem out? I doubt it. All unused to the nice conventions of politesociety, these rugged persons will charge through. In suchcircumstances good work will be hard to achieve. Your literary manmust have complete quiet if he is to give the public of his best.But stay. An idea!"
"Well?"
"Comrade Brady. The Peerless Kid. The man _Cosy Moments_ is runningfor the light-weight championship. We are his pugilistic sponsors.You may say that it is entirely owing to our efforts that he hasobtained this match with--who exactly is the gentleman ComradeBrady fights at the Highfield Club on Friday night?"
"Cyclone Al. Wolmann, isn't it?"
"You are right. As I was saying, but for us the privilege ofsmiting Comrade Cyclone Al. Wolmann under the fifth rib on Fridayni
ght would almost certainly have been denied to him."
It almost seemed as if he were right. From the moment the paper hadtaken up his cause, Kid Brady's star had undoubtedly been in theascendant. People began to talk about him as a likely man. Edgren,in the _Evening World_, had a paragraph about his chances for thelight-weight title. Tad, in the _Journal_, drew a picture of him.Finally, the management of the Highfield Club had signed him for aten-round bout with Mr. Wolmann. There were, therefore, reasonswhy _Cosy Moments_ should feel a claim on the Kid's services.
"He should," continued Psmith, "if equipped in any degree withfiner feelings, be bubbling over with gratitude towards us. 'Butfor _Cosy Moments_,' he should be saying to himself, 'where should Ibe? Among the also-rans.' I imagine that he will do any littlething we care to ask of him. I suggest that we approach ComradeBrady, explain the facts of the case, and offer him at acomfortable salary the post of fighting-editor of _Cosy Moments_. Hisduties will be to sit in the room opening out of ours, girded as tothe loins and full of martial spirit, and apply some of thosehalf-scissor hooks of his to the persons of any who overcome theopposition of Comrade Maloney. We, meanwhile, will enjoy thatleisure and freedom from interruption which is so essential to theartist."
"It's not a bad idea," said Billy.
"It is about the soundest idea," said Psmith, "that has ever beenstruck. One of your newspaper friends shall supply us with tickets,and Friday night shall see us at the Highfield."
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