Psmith in the City

by P. G. Wodehouse

  26. Breaking The News

  Dashing away from the call-box, Mike nearly cannoned into Psmith, whowas making his way pensively to the telephone with the object ofringing up the box office of the Haymarket Theatre.

  'Sorry,' said Mike. 'Hullo, Smith.'

  'Hullo indeed,' said Psmith, courteously. 'I rejoice, Comrade Jackson,to find you going about your commercial duties like a young bomb. Howis it, people repeatedly ask me, that Comrade Jackson contrives tocatch his employer's eye and win the friendly smile from the head ofhis department? My reply is that where others walk, Comrade Jacksonruns. Where others stroll, Comrade Jackson legs it like a highly-trainedmustang of the prairie. He does not loiter. He gets back to his departmentbathed in perspiration, in level time. He--'

  'I say, Smith,' said Mike, 'you might do me a favour.'

  'A thousand. Say on.'

  'Just look in at the Fixed Deposits and tell old Gregory that I shan'tbe with him today, will you? I haven't time myself. I must rush!'

  Psmith screwed his eyeglass into his eye, and examined Mike carefully.

  'What exactly--?' be began.

  'Tell the old ass I've popped off.'

  'Just so, just so,' murmured Psmith, as one who assents to a thoroughlyreasonable proposition. 'Tell him you have popped off. It shall bedone. But it is within the bounds of possibility that Comrade Gregorymay inquire further. Could you give me some inkling as to why you arepopping?'

  'My brother Joe has just rung me up from Lords. The county are playingMiddlesex and they're one short. He wants me to roll up.'

  Psmith shook his head sadly.

  'I don't wish to interfere in any way,' he said, 'but I suppose yourealize that, by acting thus, you are to some extent knocking thestuffing out of your chances of becoming manager of this bank? If youdash off now, I shouldn't count too much on that marrying theGovernor's daughter scheme I sketched out for you last night. I doubtwhether this is going to help you to hold the gorgeous East in fee, andall that sort of thing.'

  'Oh, dash the gorgeous East.'

  'By all means,' said Psmith obligingly. 'I just thought I'd mention it.I'll look in at Lord's this afternoon. I shall send my card up to you,and trust to your sympathetic cooperation to enable me to effect anentry into the pavilion on my face. My father is coming up to Londontoday. I'll bring him along, too.'

  'Right ho. Dash it, it's twenty to. So long. See you at Lord's.'

  Psmith looked after his retreating form till it had vanished throughthe swing-door, and shrugged his shoulders resignedly, as ifdisclaiming all responsibility.

  'He has gone without his hat,' he murmured. 'It seems to me that thisis practically a case of running amok. And now to break the news tobereaved Comrade Gregory.'

  He abandoned his intention of ringing up the Haymarket Theatre, andturning away from the call-box, walked meditatively down the aisle tillhe came to the Fixed Deposits Department, where the top of Mr Gregory'shead was to be seen over the glass barrier, as he applied himself tohis work.

  Psmith, resting his elbows on the top of the barrier and holding hishead between his hands, eyed the absorbed toiler for a moment insilence, then emitted a hollow groan.

  Mr Gregory, who was ruling a line in a ledger--most of the work in theFixed Deposits Department consisted of ruling lines in ledgers,sometimes in black ink, sometimes in red--started as if he had beenstung, and made a complete mess of the ruled line. He lifted a fiery,bearded face, and met Psmith's eye, which shone with kindly sympathy.

  He found words.

  'What the dickens are you standing there for, mooing like a blankedcow?' he inquired.

  'I was groaning,' explained Psmith with quiet dignity. 'And why was Igroaning?' he continued. 'Because a shadow has fallen on the FixedDeposits Department. Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the Office, hasgone.'

  Mr Gregory rose from his seat.

  'I don't know who the dickens you are--' he began.

  'I am Psmith,' said the old Etonian,

  'Oh, you're Smith, are you?'

  'With a preliminary P. Which, however, is not sounded.'

  'And what's all this dashed nonsense about Jackson?'

  'He is gone. Gone like the dew from the petal of a rose.'

  'Gone! Where's he gone to?'

  'Lord's.'

  'What lord's?'

  Psmith waved his hand gently.

  'You misunderstand me. Comrade Jackson has not gone to mix with anymember of our gay and thoughtless aristocracy. He has gone to Lord'scricket ground.'

  Mr Gregory's beard bristled even more than was its wont.

  'What!' he roared. 'Gone to watch a cricket match! Gone--!'

  'Not to watch. To play. An urgent summons I need not say. Nothing butan urgent summons could have wrenched him from your very delightfulsociety, I am sure.'

  Mr Gregory glared.

  'I don't want any of your impudence,' he said.

  Psmith nodded gravely.

  'We all have these curious likes and dislikes,' he said tolerantly.'You do not like my impudence. Well, well, some people don't. And now,having broken the sad news, I will return to my own department.'

  'Half a minute. You come with me and tell this yarn of yours to MrBickersdyke.'

  'You think it would interest, amuse him? Perhaps you are right. Let usbuttonhole Comrade Bickersdyke.'

  Mr Bickersdyke was disengaged. The head of the Fixed DepositsDepartment stumped into the room. Psmith followed at a more leisurelypace.

  'Allow me,' he said with a winning smile, as Mr Gregory opened hismouth to speak, 'to take this opportunity of congratulating you on yoursuccess at the election. A narrow but well-deserved victory.'

  There was nothing cordial in the manager's manner.

  'What do you want?' he said.

  'Myself, nothing,' said Psmith. 'But I understand that Mr Gregory hassome communication to make.'

  'Tell Mr Bickersdyke that story of yours,' said Mr Gregory.

  'Surely,' said Psmith reprovingly, 'this is no time for anecdotes. MrBickersdyke is busy. He--'

  'Tell him what you told me about Jackson.'

  Mr Bickersdyke looked up inquiringly.

  'Jackson,' said Psmith, 'has been obliged to absent himself from worktoday owing to an urgent summons from his brother, who, I understand,has suffered a bereavement.'

  'It's a lie,' roared Mr Gregory. 'You told me yourself he'd gone toplay in a cricket match.'

  'True. As I said, he received an urgent summons from his brother.'

  'What about the bereavement, then?'

  'The team was one short. His brother was very distressed about it. Whatcould Comrade Jackson do? Could he refuse to help his brother when itwas in his power? His generous nature is a byword. He did the onlypossible thing. He consented to play.'

  Mr Bickersdyke spoke.

  'Am I to understand,' he asked, with sinister calm, 'that Mr Jacksonhas left his work and gone off to play in a cricket match?'

  'Something of that sort has, I believe, happened,' said Psmith. 'Heknew, of course,' he added, bowing gracefully in Mr Gregory'sdirection, 'that he was leaving his work in thoroughly competenthands.'

  'Thank you,' said Mr Bickersdyke. 'That will do. You will help MrGregory in his department for the time being, Mr Smith. I will arrangefor somebody to take your place in your own department.'

  'It will be a pleasure,' murmured Psmith.

  'Show Mr Smith what he has to do, Mr Gregory,' said the manager.

  They left the room.

  'How curious, Comrade Gregory,' mused Psmith, as they went, 'are theworkings of Fate! A moment back, and your life was a blank. ComradeJackson, that prince of Fixed Depositors, had gone. How, you said toyourself despairingly, can his place be filled? Then the cloud broke,and the sun shone out again. _I_ came to help you. What you loseon the swings, you make up on the roundabouts. Now show me what I haveto do, and then let us make this department sizzle. You have drawn agood ticket, Comrade Gregory.'