Psmith in the City

by P. G. Wodehouse

  18. Psmith Makes a Discovery

  'Women,' said Psmith, helping himself to trifle, and speaking with theair of one launched upon his special subject, 'are, one must recollect,like--like--er, well, in fact, just so. Passing on lightly from thatconclusion, let us turn for a moment to the Rights of Property, inconnection with which Comrade Prebble and yourself had so much that wasinteresting to say this afternoon. Perhaps you'--he bowed in ComradePrebble's direction--'would resume, for the benefit of Comrade Jackson--anovice in the Cause, but earnest--your very lucid--'

  Comrade Prebble beamed, and took the floor. Mike began to realize that,till now, he had never known what boredom meant. There had been momentsin his life which had been less interesting than other moments, butnothing to touch this for agony. Comrade Prebble's address streamed onlike water rushing over a weir. Every now and then there was a word ortwo which was recognizable, but this happened so rarely that itamounted to little. Sometimes Mr Waller would interject a remark, butnot often. He seemed to be of the opinion that Comrade Prebble's wasthe master mind and that to add anything to his views would be in thenature of painting the lily and gilding the refined gold. Mike himselfsaid nothing. Psmith and Edward were equally silent. The former satlike one in a trance, thinking his own thoughts, while Edward, who,prospecting on the sideboard, had located a rich biscuit-mine, was toooccupied for speech.

  After about twenty minutes, during which Mike's discomfort changed to adull resignation, Mr Waller suggested a move to the drawing-room, whereAda, he said, would play some hymns.

  The prospect did not dazzle Mike, but any change, he thought, must befor the better. He had sat staring at the ruin of the blancmange solong that it had begun to hypnotize him. Also, the move had theexcellent result of eliminating the snub-nosed Edward, who was sent tobed. His last words were in the form of a question, addressed to Mike,on the subject of the hypotenuse and the square upon the same.

  'A remarkably intelligent boy,' said Psmith. 'You must let him come totea at our flat one day. I may not be in myself--I have many dutieswhich keep me away--but Comrade Jackson is sure to be there, and willbe delighted to chat with him.'

  On the way upstairs Mike tried to get Psmith to himself for a moment tosuggest the advisability of an early departure; but Psmith was in closeconversation with his host. Mike was left to Comrade Prebble, who,apparently, had only touched the fringe of his subject in his lecturein the dining-room.

  When Mr Waller had predicted hymns in the drawing-room, he had been toosanguine (or too pessimistic). Of Ada, when they arrived, there were nosigns. It seemed that she had gone straight to bed. Young Mr Richardswas sitting on the sofa, moodily turning the leaves of a photographalbum, which contained portraits of Master Edward Waller ingeometrically progressing degrees of repulsiveness--here, in frocks,looking like a gargoyle; there, in sailor suit, looking like nothing onearth. The inspection of these was obviously deepening Mr Richards'gloom, but he proceeded doggedly with it.

  Comrade Prebble backed the reluctant Mike into a corner, and, like theAncient Mariner, held him with a glittering eye. Psmith and Mr Waller,in the opposite corner, were looking at something with their headsclose together. Mike definitely abandoned all hope of a rescue fromPsmith, and tried to buoy himself up with the reflection that thiscould not last for ever.

  Hours seemed to pass, and then at last he heard Psmith's voice sayinggood-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 getaway, and at once. 'I fear,' Psmith was saying, 'that we must tearourselves away. We have greatly enjoyed our evening. You must look usup at our flat one day, and bring Comrade Prebble. If I am not in,Comrade Jackson is certain to be, and he will be more than delighted tohear Comrade Prebble speak further on the subject of which he is such amaster.' Comrade Prebble was understood to say that he would certainlycome. Mr Waller beamed. Mr Richards, still steeped in gloom, shookhands in silence.

  Out in the road, with the front door shut behind them, Mike spoke hismind.

  'Look here, Smith,' he said definitely, 'if being your confidentialsecretary and adviser is going to let me in for any more of that sortof thing, you can jolly well accept my resignation.'

  'The orgy was not to your taste?' said Psmith sympathetically.

  Mike laughed. One of those short, hollow, bitter laughs.

  'I am at a loss, Comrade Jackson,' said Psmith, 'to understand yourattitude. You fed sumptuously. You had fun with the crockery--thatknockabout act of yours with the water-jug was alone worth themoney--and you had the advantage of listening to the views of amaster of his subject. What more do you want?'

  'What on earth did you land me with that man Prebble for?'

  'Land you! Why, you courted his society. I had practically to drag youaway from him. When I got up to say good-bye, you were listening to himwith bulging eyes. I never saw such a picture of rapt attention. Do youmean to tell me, Comrade Jackson, that your appearance belied you, thatyou were not interested? Well, well. How we misread our fellowcreatures.'

  'I think you might have come and lent a hand with Prebble. It was a bitthick.'

  'I was too absorbed with Comrade Waller. We were talking of things ofvital moment. However, the night is yet young. We will take this cab,wend our way to the West, seek a cafe, and cheer ourselves with lightrefreshments.'

  Arrived at a cafe whose window appeared to be a sort of museum of everykind of German sausage, they took possession of a vacant table andordered coffee. Mike soon found himself soothed by his brightsurroundings, and gradually his impressions of blancmange, Edward, andComrade Prebble faded from his mind. Psmith, meanwhile, was preservingan unusual silence, being deep in a large square book of the sort inwhich Press cuttings are pasted. As Psmith scanned its contents acurious smile lit up his face. His reflections seemed to be of anagreeable nature.

  'Hullo,' said Mike, 'what have you got hold of there? Where did you getthat?'

  'Comrade Waller very kindly lent it to me. He showed it to me aftersupper, knowing how enthusiastically I was attached to the Cause. Hadyou been less tensely wrapped up in Comrade Prebble's conversation, Iwould have desired you to step across and join us. However, you nowhave your opportunity.'

  'But what is it?' asked Mike.

  'It is the record of the meetings of the Tulse Hill Parliament,' saidPsmith impressively. 'A faithful record of all they said, all the votesof confidence they passed in the Government, and also all the nastyknocks they gave it from time to time.'

  'What on earth's the Tulse Hill Parliament?'

  'It is, alas,' said Psmith in a grave, sad voice, 'no more. In life itwas beautiful, but now it has done the Tom Bowling act. It has gonealoft. We are dealing, Comrade Jackson, not with the live, vividpresent, but with the far-off, rusty past. And yet, in a way, there isa touch of the live, vivid present mixed up in it.'

  'I don't know what the dickens you're talking about,' said Mike. 'Let'shave a look, anyway.'

  Psmith handed him the volume, and, leaning back, sipped his coffee, andwatched him. At first Mike's face was bored and blank, but suddenly aninterested look came into it.

  'Aha!' said Psmith.

  'Who's Bickersdyke? Anything to do with our Bickersdyke?'

  'No other than our genial friend himself.'

  Mike turned the pages, reading a line or two on each.

  'Hullo!' he said, chuckling. 'He lets himself go a bit, doesn't he!'

  'He does,' acknowledged Psmith. 'A fiery, passionate nature, that ofComrade Bickersdyke.'

  'He's simply cursing the Government here. Giving them frightful beans.'

  Psmith nodded.

  'I noticed the fact myself.'

  'But what's it all about?'

  'As far as I can glean from Comrade Waller,' said Psmith, 'about twentyyears ago, when he and Comrade Bickersdyke worked hand-in-hand asfellow clerks at the New Asiatic, they were both members of the TulseHill Parliament, that powerful instituti
on. At that time ComradeBickersdyke was as fruity a Socialist as Comrade Waller is now. Only,apparently, as he began to get on a bit in the world, he altered hisviews to some extent as regards the iniquity of freezing on to a decentshare of the doubloons. And that, you see, is where the dim and rustypast begins to get mixed up with the live, vivid present. If anytactless person were to publish those very able speeches made byComrade Bickersdyke when a bulwark of the Tulse Hill Parliament, ourrevered chief would be more or less caught bending, if I may employ theexpression, as regards his chances of getting in as Unionist candidateat Kenningford. You follow me, Watson? I rather fancy the light-heartedelectors of Kenningford, from what I have seen of their rather acutesense of humour, would be, as it were, all over it. It would be very,very trying for Comrade Bickersdyke if these speeches of his were toget about.'

  'You aren't going to--!'

  'I shall do nothing rashly. I shall merely place this handsome volumeamong my treasured books. I shall add it to my "Books that have helpedme" series. Because I fancy that, in an emergency, it may not be at alla bad thing to have about me. And now,' he concluded, 'as the hour isgetting late, perhaps we had better be shoving off for home.'