CHAPTER XXVI
A FRIEND IN NEED
"The point is well taken," said Psmith thoughtfully.
"You think so?" said Mr. Parker.
"I am convinced of it."
"Good. But don't move. Put that hand back where it was."
"You think of everything, Comrade Parker."
He dropped his hand on to the seat, and remained silent for a fewmoments. The taxi-cab was buzzing along up Fifth Avenue now.Looking towards the window, Psmith saw that they were nearing thepark. The great white mass of the Plaza Hotel showed up on theleft.
"Did you ever stop at the Plaza, Comrade Parker?"
"No," said Mr. Parker shortly.
"Don't bite at me, Comrade Parker. Why be brusque on so joyous anoccasion? Better men than us have stopped at the Plaza. Ah, thePark! How fresh the leaves, Comrade Parker, how green the herbage!Fling your eye at yonder grassy knoll."
He raised his hand to point. Instantly the revolver was against hiswaistcoat, making an unwelcome crease in that immaculate garment.
"I told you to keep that hand where it was."
"You did, Comrade Parker, you did. The fault," said Psmithhandsomely, "was entirely mine. Carried away by my love of nature,I forgot. It shall not occur again."
"It had better not," said Mr. Parker unpleasantly. "If it does, I'llblow a hole through you."
Psmith raised his eyebrows.
"That, Comrade Parker," he said, "is where you make your error. Youwould no more shoot me in the heart of the metropolis than, I trust,you would wear a made-up tie with evening dress. Your skin,however unhealthy to the eye of the casual observer, is doubtlessprecious to yourself, and you are not the man I take you for if youwould risk it purely for the momentary pleasure of plugging me witha revolver. The cry goes round criminal circles in New York,'Comrade Parker is not such a fool as he looks.' Think for a momentwhat would happen. The shot would ring out, and instantlybicycle-policemen would be pursuing this taxi-cab with thepurposeful speed of greyhounds trying to win the Waterloo Cup. Youwould be headed off and stopped. Ha! What is this? Psmith, thePeople's Pet, weltering in his gore? Death to the assassin! I fearnothing could save you from the fury of the mob, Comrade Parker. Iseem to see them meditatively plucking you limb from limb. 'Sheloves me!' Off comes an arm. 'She loves me not.' A leg joins thelittle heap of limbs on the ground. That is how it would be. Andwhat would you have left out of it? Merely, as I say, the momentarypleasure of potting me. And it isn't as if such a feat could giveyou the thrill of successful marksmanship. Anybody could hit a manwith a pistol at an inch and a quarter. I fear you have not thoughtthis matter out with sufficient care, Comrade Parker. You said toyourself, 'Happy thought, I will kidnap Psmith!' and all yourfriends said, 'Parker is the man with the big brain!' But now,while it is true that I can't get out, you are moaning, 'What onearth shall I do with him, now that I have got him?'"
"You think so, do you?"
"I am convinced of it. Your face is contorted with the anguish ofmental stress. Let this be a lesson to you, Comrade Parker, neverto embark on any enterprise of which you do not see the end."
"I guess I see the end of this all right."
"You have the advantage of me then, Comrade Parker. It seems to methat we have nothing before us but to go on riding about New Yorktill you feel that my society begins to pall."
"You figure you're clever, I guess."
"There are few brighter brains in this city, Comrade Parker. Butwhy this sudden tribute?"
"You reckon you've thought it all out, eh?"
"There may be a flaw in my reasoning, but I confess I do not at themoment see where it lies. Have you detected one?"
"I guess so."
"Ah! And what is it?"
"You seem to think New York's the only place on the map."
"Meaning what, Comrade Parker?"
"It might be a fool trick to shoot you in the city as you say, but,you see, we aren't due to stay in the city. This cab is moving on."
"Like John Brown's soul," said Psmith, nodding. "I see. Then youpropose to make quite a little tour in this cab?"
"You've got it."
"And when we are out in the open country, where there are nowitnesses, things may begin to move."
"That's it."
"Then," said Psmith heartily, "till that moment arrives what wemust do is to entertain each other with conversation. You can takeno step of any sort for a full half-hour, possibly more, so let usgive ourselves up to the merriment of the passing instant. Are yougood at riddles, Comrade Parker? How much wood would a wood-chuckchuck, assuming for purposes of argument that it was in the powerof a wood-chuck to chuck wood?"
Mr. Parker did not attempt to solve this problem. He was sittingin the same attitude of watchfulness, the revolver resting on hisknee. He seemed mistrustful of Psmith's right hand, which washanging limply at his side. It was from this quarter that he seemedto expect attack. The cab was bowling easily up the broad street,past rows on rows of high houses, all looking exactly the same.Occasionally, to the right, through a break in the line ofbuildings, a glimpse of the river could be seen.
Psmith resumed the conversation.
"You are not interested in wood-chucks, Comrade Parker? Well, well,many people are not. A passion for the flora and fauna of ourforests is innate rather than acquired. Let us talk of somethingelse. Tell me about your home-life, Comrade Parker. Are youmarried? Are there any little Parkers running about the house? Whenyou return from this very pleasant excursion will baby voices crowgleefully, 'Fahzer's come home'?"
Mr. Parker said nothing.
"I see," said Psmith with ready sympathy. "I understand. Say nomore. You are unmarried. She wouldn't have you. Alas, ComradeParker! However, thus it is! We look around us, and what do wesee? A solid phalanx of the girls we have loved and lost. Tell meabout her, Comrade Parker. Was it your face or your manners atwhich she drew the line?"
Mr. Parker leaned forward with a scowl. Psmith did not move, buthis right hand, as it hung, closed. Another moment and Mr. Parker'schin would be in just the right position for a swift upper-cut. . .
This fact appeared suddenly to dawn on Mr. Parker himself. He drewback quickly, and half raised the revolver. Psmith's hand resumedits normal attitude.
"Leaving more painful topics," said Psmith, "let us turn to anotherpoint. That note which the grubby stripling brought to me at theoffice purported to come from Comrade Windsor, and stated that hehad escaped from Blackwell's Island, and was awaiting my arrival atsome address in the Bowery. Would you mind telling me, purely tosatisfy my curiosity, if that note was genuine? I have never madea close study of Comrade Windsor's handwriting, and in an unguardedmoment I may have assumed too much."
Mr. Parker permitted himself a smile.
"I guess you aren't so clever after all," he said. "The note was afake all right."
"And you had this cab waiting for me on the chance?"
Mr. Parker nodded.
"Sherlock Holmes was right," said Psmith regretfully. "You mayremember that he advised Doctor Watson never to take the first cab,or the second. He should have gone further, and urged him not totake cabs at all. Walking is far healthier."
"You'll find it so," said Mr. Parker.
Psmith eyed him curiously.
"What _are_ you going to do with me, Comrade Parker?" he asked.
Mr. Parker did not reply. Psmith's eye turned again to the window.They had covered much ground since last he had looked at the view.They were off Manhattan Island now, and the houses were beginningto thin out. Soon, travelling at their present rate, they must comeinto the open country. Psmith relapsed into silence. It wasnecessary for him to think. He had been talking in the hope ofgetting the other off his guard; but Mr. Parker was evidently tookeenly on the look-out. The hand that held the revolver neverwavered. The muzzle, pointing in an upward direction, was aimed atPsmith's waist. There was no doubt that a move on his part would befatal. If the pistol went off, it must hit him. If it had beenpointed a
t his head in the orthodox way he might have risked asudden blow to knock it aside, but in the present circumstancesthat would be useless. There was nothing to do but wait.
The cab moved swiftly on. Now they had reached the open country. Anoccasional wooden shack was passed, but that was all. At any momentthe climax of the drama might be reached. Psmith's musclesstiffened for a spring. There was little chance of its beingeffective, but at least it would be better to put up some kind of afight. And he had a faint hope that the suddenness of his movementmight upset the other's aim. He was bound to be hit somewhere.That was certain. But quickness might save him to some extent.
He braced his leg against the back of the cab. In another momenthe would have sprung; but just then the smooth speed of the cabchanged to a series of jarring bumps, each more emphatic than thelast. It slowed down, then came to a halt. One of the tyres hadburst.
There was a thud, as the chauffeur jumped down. They heard himfumbling in the tool-box. Presently the body of the machine wasraised slightly as he got to work with the jack.
It was about a minute later that somebody in the road outsidespoke.
"Had a breakdown?" inquired the voice. Psmith recognised it. Itwas the voice of Kid Brady.
Psmith, Journalist Page 26
