‘I am always glad to sweeten the monotony of toil with a chat with Little Clarence,’ he said. ‘I shall be with him in a moment.’
He cleaned his pen very carefully, placed it beside his ledger, flicked a little dust off his coatsleeve, and made his way to the manager’s room.
Mr Bickersdyke received him with the ominous restraint of a tiger crouching for its spring. Psmith stood beside the table with languid grace, suggestive of some favoured confidential secretary waiting for instructions.
A ponderous silence brooded over the room for some moments. Psmith broke it by remarking that the Bank Rate was unchanged. He mentioned this fact as if it afforded him a personal gratification.
Mr Bickersdyke spoke.
‘Well, Mr Smith?’ he said.
‘You wished to see me about something, sir?’ inquired Psmith, ingratiatingly.
‘You know perfectly well what I wished to see you about. I want to hear your explanation of what occurred last night.’
‘May I sit, sir?’
He dropped gracefully into a chair, without waiting for permission, and, having hitched up the knees of his trousers, beamed winningly at the manager.
‘A deplorable affair,’ he said, with a shake of his head. ‘Extremely deplorable. We must not judge these rough, uneducated men too harshly, however. In a time of excitement the emotions of the lower classes are easily stirred. Where you or I would—’
Mr Bickersdyke interrupted.
‘I do not wish for any more buffoonery, Mr Smith—’
Psmith raised a pained pair of eyebrows.
‘Buffoonery, sir!’
‘I cannot understand what made you act as you did last night, unless you are perfectly mad, as I am beginning to think.’
‘But, surely, sir, there was nothing remarkable in my behaviour? When a merchant has attached himself to your collar, can you do less than smite him on the other cheek? I merely acted in self-defence. You saw for yourself —’
‘You know what I am alluding to. Your behaviour during my speech.’
‘An excellent speech,’ murmured Psmith courteously.
‘Well?’ said Mr Bickersdyke.
‘It was, perhaps, mistaken zeal on my part, sir, but you must remember that I acted purely from the best motives. It seemed to me—’
‘That is enough, Mr Smith. I confess that I am absolutely at a loss to understand you—’
‘It is too true, sir,’ sighed Psmith.
‘You seem,’ continued Mr Bickersdyke, warming to his subject, and turning gradually a richer shade of purple, ‘you seem to be determined to endeavour to annoy me.’ (‘No no,’ from Psmith.) ‘I can only assume that you are not in your right senses. You follow me about in my club—’
‘Our club, sir,’ murmured Psmith.
‘Be good enough not to interrupt me, Mr Smith. You dog my footsteps in my club—’
‘Purely accidental, sir. We happen to meet—that is all.’
‘You attend meetings at which I am speaking, and behave in a perfectly imbecile manner.’
Psmith moaned slightly.
‘It may seem humorous to you, but I can assure you it is extremely bad policy on your part. The New Asiatic Bank is no place for humour, and I think—’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Psmith.
The manager started at the familiar phrase. The plum-colour of his complexion deepened.
‘I entirely agree with you, sir,’ said Psmith, ‘that this bank is no place for humour.’
‘Very well, then. You—’
‘And I am never humorous in it. I arrive punctually in the; morning, and I work steadily and earnestly till my labours are completed. I think you will find, on inquiry, that Mr Rossiter is satisfied with my work.’
‘That is neither here nor—’
‘Surely, sir,’ said Psmith, ‘you are wrong? Surely your jurisdiction ceases after office hours? Any little misunderstanding we may have at the close of the day’s work cannot affect you officially. You could not, for instance, dismiss me from the service of the bank if we were partners at bridge at the club and I happened to revoke.’
‘I can dismiss you, let me tell you, Mr Smith, for studied insolence, whether in the office or not.’
‘I bow to superior knowledge,’ said Psmith politely, ‘but I confess I doubt it. And,’ he added, ‘there is another point. May I continue to some extent?’
