16. Further Developments
Bill (surname unknown) was not one of your ultra-scientific fighters.He did not favour the American crouch and the artistic feint. He had astyle wholly his own. It seemed to have been modelled partly on atortoise and partly on a windmill. His head he appeared to be trying toconceal between his shoulders, and he whirled his arms alternately incircular sweeps.
Mike, on the other hand, stood upright and hit straight, with theresult that he hurt his knuckles very much on his opponent's skull,without seeming to disturb the latter to any great extent. In theprocess he received one of the windmill swings on the left ear. Thecrowd, strong pro-Billites, raised a cheer.
This maddened Mike. He assumed the offensive. Bill, satisfied for themoment with his success, had stepped back, and was indulging in somefancy sparring, when Mike sprang upon him like a panther. Theyclinched, and Mike, who had got the under grip, hurled Bill forciblyagainst a stout man who looked like a publican. The two fell in a heap,Bill underneath.
At the same time Bill's friends joined in.
The first intimation Mike had of this was a violent blow across theshoulders with a walking-stick. Even if he had been wearing hisovercoat, the blow would have hurt. As he was in his jacket it hurtmore than anything he had ever experienced in his life. He leapt upwith a yell, but Psmith was there before him. Mike saw his assailantlift the stick again, and then collapse as the old Etonian's right tookhim under the chin.
He darted to Psmith's side.
'This is no place for us,' observed the latter sadly. 'Shift ho, Ithink. Come on.'
They dashed simultaneously for the spot where the crowd was thinnest.The ring which had formed round Mike and Bill had broken up as theresult of the intervention of Bill's allies, and at the spot for whichthey ran only two men were standing. And these had apparently made uptheir minds that neutrality was the best policy, for they made nomovement to stop them. Psmith and Mike charged through the gap, andraced for the road.
The suddenness of the move gave them just the start they needed. Mikelooked over his shoulder. The crowd, to a man, seemed to be following.Bill, excavated from beneath the publican, led the field. Lying a goodsecond came a band of three, and after them the rest in a bunch.
They reached the road in this order.
Some fifty yards down the road was a stationary tram. In the ordinarycourse of things it would probably have moved on long before Psmith andMike could have got to it; but the conductor, a man with sporting bloodin him, seeing what appeared to be the finish of some Marathon Race,refrained from giving the signal, and moved out into the road toobserve events more clearly, at the same time calling to the driver,who joined him. Passengers on the roof stood up to get a good view.There was some cheering.
Psmith and Mike reached the tram ten yards to the good; and, if it hadbeen ready to start then, all would have been well. But Bill and hisfriends had arrived while the driver and conductor were both out in theroad.
The affair now began to resemble the doings of Horatius on the bridge.Psmith and Mike turned to bay on the platform at the foot of the tramsteps. Bill, leading by three yards, sprang on to it, grabbed Mike, andfell with him on to the road. Psmith, descending with a dignitysomewhat lessened by the fact that his hat was on the side of his head,was in time to engage the runners-up.
Psmith, as pugilist, lacked something of the calm majesty whichcharacterized him in the more peaceful moments of life, but he wasundoubtedly effective. Nature had given him an enormous reach and alightness on his feet remarkable in one of his size; and at some timein his career he appeared to have learned how to use his hands. Thefirst of the three runners, the walking-stick manipulator, had themisfortune to charge straight into the old Etonian's left. It was awell-timed blow, and the force of it, added to the speed at which thevictim was running, sent him on to the pavement, where he spun roundand sat down. In the subsequent proceedings he took no part.
The other two attacked Psmith simultaneously, one on each side. Indoing so, the one on the left tripped over Mike and Bill, who werestill in the process of sorting themselves out, and fell, leavingPsmith free to attend to the other. He was a tall, weedy youth. Hisconspicuous features were a long nose and a light yellow waistcoat.Psmith hit him on the former with his left and on the latter with hisright. The long youth emitted a gurgle, and collided with Bill, who hadwrenched himself free from Mike and staggered to his feet. Bill, havingreceived a second blow in the eye during the course of his interview onthe road with Mike, was not feeling himself. Mistaking the other for anenemy, he proceeded to smite him in the parts about the jaw. He hadjust upset him, when a stern official voice observed, ''Ere, now,what's all this?'
There is no more unfailing corrective to a scene of strife than the'What's all this?' of the London policeman. Bill abandoned hisintention of stamping on the prostrate one, and the latter, sitting up,blinked and was silent.
'What's all this?' asked the policeman again. Psmith, adjusting his hatat the correct angle again, undertook the explanations.
'A distressing scene, officer,' he said. 'A case of that unbridledbrawling which is, alas, but too common in our London streets. Thesetwo, possibly till now the closest friends, fall out over some point,probably of the most trivial nature, and what happens? They brawl.They--'
'He 'it me,' said the long youth, dabbing at his face with ahandkerchief and pointing an accusing finger at Psmith, who regardedhim through his eyeglass with a look in which pity and censure werenicely blended.
Bill, meanwhile, circling round restlessly, in the apparent hope ofgetting past the Law and having another encounter with Mike, expressedhimself in a stream of language which drew stern reproof from theshocked constable.
'You 'op it,' concluded the man in blue. 'That's what you do. You 'opit.'
'I should,' said Psmith kindly. 'The officer is speaking in your bestinterests. A man of taste and discernment, he knows what is best. Hisadvice is good, and should be followed.'
The constable seemed to notice Psmith for the first time. He turned andstared at him. Psmith's praise had not had the effect of softening him.His look was one of suspicion.
'And what might _you_ have been up to?' he inquired coldly. 'Thisman says you hit him.'
Psmith waved the matter aside.
'Purely in self-defence,' he said, 'purely in self-defence. What elsecould the man of spirit do? A mere tap to discourage an aggressivemovement.'
The policeman stood silent, weighing matters in the balance. Heproduced a notebook and sucked his pencil. Then he called the conductorof the tram as a witness.
'A brainy and admirable step,' said Psmith, approvingly. 'This rugged,honest man, all unused to verbal subtleties, shall give us his plainaccount of what happened. After which, as I presume this tram--littleas I know of the habits of trams--has got to go somewhere today, Iwould suggest that we all separated and moved on.'
He took two half-crowns from his pocket, and began to clink themmeditatively together. A slight softening of the frigidity of theconstable's manner became noticeable. There was a milder beam in theeyes which gazed into Psmith's.
Nor did the conductor seem altogether uninfluenced by the sight.
The conductor deposed that he had bin on the point of pushing on,seeing as how he'd hung abart long enough, when he see'd them twogents, the long 'un with the heye-glass (Psmith bowed) and t'other 'un,a-legging of it dahn the road towards him, with the other blokespelting after 'em. He added that, when they reached the trem, the twogents had got aboard, and was then set upon by the blokes. And afterthat, he concluded, well, there was a bit of a scrap, and that's how itwas.
'Lucidly and excellently put,' said Psmith. 'That is just how it was.Comrade Jackson, I fancy we leave the court without a stain on ourcharacters. We win through. Er--constable, we have given you a greatdeal of trouble. Possibly--?'
'Thank you, sir.' There was a musical clinking. 'Now then, all of you,you 'op it. You're all bin poking your noses in 'ere long enough. Popoff. Get on wi
th that tram, conductor.' Psmith and Mike settledthemselves in a seat on the roof. When the conductor came along, Psmithgave him half a crown, and asked after his wife and the little ones athome. The conductor thanked goodness that he was a bachelor, punchedthe tickets, and retired.
'Subject for a historical picture,' said Psmith. 'Wounded leaving thefield after the Battle of Clapham Common. How are your injuries,Comrade Jackson?'
'My back's hurting like blazes,' said Mike. 'And my ear's all sorewhere that chap got me. Anything the matter with you?'
'Physically,' said Psmith, 'no. Spiritually much. Do you realize,Comrade Jackson, the thing that has happened? I am riding in a tram. I,Psmith, have paid a penny for a ticket on a tram. If this should getabout the clubs! I tell you, Comrade Jackson, no such crisis has everoccurred before in the course of my career.'
'You can always get off, you know,' said Mike.
'He thinks of everything,' said Psmith, admiringly. 'You have touchedthe spot with an unerring finger. Let us descend. I observe in thedistance a cab. That looks to me more the sort of thing we want. Let usgo and parley with the driver.'
Psmith in the City Page 16
