Psmith in the City

by P. G. Wodehouse

  9. The Haunting of Mr Bickersdyke

  Anything in the nature of a rash and hasty move was wholly foreign toPsmith's tactics. He had the patience which is the chief quality of thesuccessful general. He was content to secure his base before making anyoffensive movement. It was a fortnight before he turned his attentionto the education of Mr Bickersdyke. During that fortnight he conversedattractively, in the intervals of work, on the subject of Leaguefootball in general and Manchester United in particular. The subject isnot hard to master if one sets oneself earnestly to it; and Psmithspared no pains. The football editions of the evening papers are notreticent about those who play the game: and Psmith drank in everydetail with the thoroughness of the conscientious student. By the endof the fortnight he knew what was the favourite breakfast-food of J.Turnbull; what Sandy Turnbull wore next his skin; and who, in theopinion of Meredith, was England's leading politician. These facts,imparted to and discussed with Mr Rossiter, made the progress of the_entente cordiale_ rapid. It was on the eighth day that MrRossiter consented to lunch with the Old Etonian. On the tenth heplayed the host. By the end of the fortnight the flapping of the whitewings of Peace over the Postage Department was setting up a positivedraught. Mike, who had been introduced by Psmith as a distant relativeof Moger, the goalkeeper, was included in the great peace.

  'So that now,' said Psmith, reflectively polishing his eye-glass, 'Ithink that we may consider ourselves free to attend to ComradeBickersdyke. Our bright little Mancunian friend would no more run us innow than if we were the brothers Turnbull. We are as inside forwards tohim.'

  The club to which Psmith and Mr Bickersdyke belonged was celebrated forthe steadfastness of its political views, the excellence of itscuisine, and the curiously Gorgonzolaesque marble of its mainstaircase. It takes all sorts to make a world. It took about fourthousand of all sorts to make the Senior Conservative Club. To beabsolutely accurate, there were three thousand seven hundred andeighteen members.

  To Mr Bickersdyke for the next week it seemed as if there was only one.

  There was nothing crude or overdone about Psmith's methods. Theordinary man, having conceived the idea of haunting a fellow clubman,might have seized the first opportunity of engaging him inconversation. Not so Psmith. The first time he met Mr Bickersdyke inthe club was on the stairs after dinner one night. The great man,having received practical proof of the excellence of cuisine referredto above, was coming down the main staircase at peace with all men,when he was aware of a tall young man in the 'faultless evening dress'of which the female novelist is so fond, who was regarding him with afixed stare through an eye-glass. The tall young man, having caught hiseye, smiled faintly, nodded in a friendly but patronizing manner, andpassed on up the staircase to the library. Mr Bickersdyke sped on insearch of a waiter.

  As Psmith sat in the library with a novel, the waiter entered, andapproached him.

  'Beg pardon, sir,' he said. 'Are you a member of this club?'

  Psmith fumbled in his pocket and produced his eye-glass, through whichhe examined the waiter, button by button.

  'I am Psmith,' he said simply.

  'A member, sir?'

  '_The_ member,' said Psmith. 'Surely you participated in thegeneral rejoicings which ensued when it was announced that I had beenelected? But perhaps you were too busy working to pay any attention. Ifso, I respect you. I also am a worker. A toiler, not a flatfish. Asizzler, not a squab. Yes, I am a member. Will you tell Mr Bickersdykethat I am sorry, but I have been elected, and have paid my entrance feeand subscription.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  The waiter went downstairs and found Mr Bickersdyke in the lowersmoking-room.

  'The gentleman says he is, sir.'

  'H'm,' said the bank-manager. 'Coffee and Benedictine, and a cigar.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  On the following day Mr Bickersdyke met Psmith in the club three times,and on the day after that seven. Each time the latter's smile wasfriendly, but patronizing. Mr Bickersdyke began to grow restless.

  On the fourth day Psmith made his first remark. The manager was readingthe evening paper in a corner, when Psmith sinking gracefully into achair beside him, caused him to look up.

  'The rain keeps off,' said Psmith.

  Mr Bickersdyke looked as if he wished his employee would imitate therain, but he made no reply.

  Psmith called a waiter.

  'Would you mind bringing me a small cup of coffee?' he said. 'And foryou,' he added to Mr Bickersdyke.

  'Nothing,' growled the manager.

  'And nothing for Mr Bickersdyke.'

  The waiter retired. Mr Bickersdyke became absorbed in his paper.

  'I see from my morning paper,' said Psmith, affably, 'that you are toaddress a meeting at the Kenningford Town Hall next week. I shall comeand hear you. Our politics differ in some respects, I fear--I inclineto the Socialist view--but nevertheless I shall listen to your remarkswith great interest, great interest.'

  The paper rustled, but no reply came from behind it.

  'I heard from father this morning,' resumed Psmith.

  Mr Bickersdyke lowered his paper and glared at him.

  'I don't wish to hear about your father,' he snapped.

  An expression of surprise and pain came over Psmith's face.

  'What!' he cried. 'You don't mean to say that there is any coolnessbetween my father and you? I am more grieved than I can say. Knowing,as I do, what a genuine respect my father has for your great talents, Ican only think that there must have been some misunderstanding. Perhapsif you would allow me to act as a mediator--'

  Mr Bickersdyke put down his paper and walked out of the room.

  Psmith found him a quarter of an hour later in the card-room. He satdown beside his table, and began to observe the play with silentinterest. Mr Bickersdyke, never a great performer at the best of times,was so unsettled by the scrutiny that in the deciding game of therubber he revoked, thereby presenting his opponents with the rubber bya very handsome majority of points. Psmith clicked his tonguesympathetically.

  Dignified reticence is not a leading characteristic of thebridge-player's manner at the Senior Conservative Club on occasionslike this. Mr Bickersdyke's partner did not bear his calamity withmanly resignation. He gave tongue on the instant. 'What on earth's',and 'Why on earth's' flowed from his mouth like molten lava. MrBickersdyke sat and fermented in silence. Psmith clicked his tonguesympathetically throughout.

  Mr Bickersdyke lost that control over himself which every member of aclub should possess. He turned on Psmith with a snort of frenzy.

  'How can I keep my attention fixed on the game when you sit staring atme like a--like a--'

  'I am sorry,' said Psmith gravely, 'if my stare falls short in any wayof your ideal of what a stare should be; but I appeal to thesegentlemen. Could I have watched the game more quietly?'

  'Of course not,' said the bereaved partner warmly. 'Nobody could haveany earthly objection to your behaviour. It was absolute carelessness.I should have thought that one might have expected one's partner at aclub like this to exercise elementary--'

  But Mr Bickersdyke had gone. He had melted silently away like thedriven snow.

  Psmith took his place at the table.

  'A somewhat nervous excitable man, Mr Bickersdyke, I should say,' heobserved.

  'A somewhat dashed, blanked idiot,' emended the bank-manager's latepartner. 'Thank goodness he lost as much as I did. That's some lightconsolation.'

  Psmith arrived at the flat to find Mike still out. Mike had repaired tothe Gaiety earlier in the evening to refresh his mind after the laboursof the day. When he returned, Psmith was sitting in an armchair withhis feet on the mantelpiece, musing placidly on Life.

  'Well?' said Mike.

  'Well? And how was the Gaiety? Good show?'

  'Jolly good. What about Bickersdyke?'

  Psmith looked sad.

  'I cannot make Comrade Bickersdyke out,' he said. 'You would think thata man would be glad to see the son of a personal
friend. On thecontrary, I may be wronging Comrade B., but I should almost be inclinedto say that my presence in the Senior Conservative Club tonightirritated him. There was no _bonhomie_ in his manner. He seemed tome to be giving a spirited imitation of a man about to foam at themouth. I did my best to entertain him. I chatted. His only reply was toleave the room. I followed him to the card-room, and watched his veryremarkable and brainy tactics at bridge, and he accused me of causinghim to revoke. A very curious personality, that of Comrade Bickersdyke.But let us dismiss him from our minds. Rumours have reached me,' saidPsmith, 'that a very decent little supper may be obtained at a quaint,old-world eating-house called the Savoy. Will you accompany me thitheron a tissue-restoring expedition? It would be rash not to probe theserumours to their foundation, and ascertain their exact truth.'