'He hasn't got next,' reported Master Maloney. 'He can't git on to me curves. Dese wop kids is all boneheads. Say, kid, look-a here.' He walked out of the room and closed the door; then, rapping on it smartly from the outside, re-entered and, assuming a look of extreme ferocity, stretched out his hand and thundered: 'Unbelt-a! Slip-a me da stuff!'
The wop kid's puzzlement became pathetic.
'This,' said Psmith, deeply interested, 'is getting about as tense as anything I ever struck. Don't give in, Comrade Maloney. Who knows but that you may yet win through? I fancy the trouble is that your too perfect Italian accent is making the youth home-sick. Once more to the breach, Comrade Maloney.'
Master Maloney made a gesture of disgust. 'I'm t'roo. Dese Dagoes makes me tired. Dey don't know enough to go upstairs to take de Elevated. Beat it, you mutt,' he observed with moody displeasure to the wop kid, accompanying the words with a gesture which conveyed its own meaning. The wop kid, plainly glad to get away, slipped out of the door like a shadow.
Pugsy shrugged his shoulders.
'Gents,' he said resignedly, 'it's up to youse.'
'I fancy,' said Psmith, 'that this is one of those moments when it is necessary for me to unlimber my Sherlock Holmes system. As thus. If the rent collector had been here, it is certain, I think, that Comrade Spaghetti, or whatever you said his name was, wouldn't have been. That is to say, if the rent collector had called and found no money waiting for him, surely Comrade Spaghetti would have been out in the cold night instead of under his own roof-tree. Do you follow me, Comrade Maloney?'
'That's right,' said Billy Windsor. 'Of course.'
'Elementary, my dear Watson, elementary,' murmured Psmith.
'So all we have to do is to sit here and wait.'
'All?' said Psmith sadly. 'Surely it is enough. For of all the scaly localities I have struck this seems to me the scaliest. The architect of this Stately Home of America seems to have had a positive hatred for windows. His idea of ventilation was to leave a hole in the wall about the size of a lima bean and let the thing go at that. If our friend does not arrive shortly, I shall pull down the roof. Why, gadzooks! Not to mention stap my vitals! Isn't that a trap- door up there? Make a long-arm, Comrade Windsor.'
Billy got on a chair and pulled the bolt. The trap-door opened downwards. It fell, disclosing a square of deep blue sky.
'Gum!' he said. 'Fancy living in this atmosphere when you don't have to. Fancy these fellows keeping that shut all the time.'
'I expect it is an acquired taste,' said Psmith, 'like Limburger cheese. They don't begin to appreciate air till it is thick enough to scoop chunks out of with a spoon. Then they get up on their hind legs and inflate their chests and say, 'This is fine! This beats ozone hollow!' Leave it open, Comrade Windsor. And now, as to the problem of dispensing with Comrade Maloney's services?'
'Sure,' said Billy. 'Beat it, Pugsy, my lad.'
Pugsy looked up, indignant.
'Beat it?' he queried.
'While your shoe leather's good,' said Billy. 'This is no place for a minister's son. There may be a rough house in here any minute, and you would be in the way.'
'I want to stop and pipe de fun,' objected Master Maloney.
'Never mind. Cut off. We'll tell you all about it to-morrow.'
Master Maloney prepared reluctantly to depart. As he did so there was a sound of a well-shod foot on the stairs, and a man in a snuff-coloured suit, wearing a brown Homburg hat and carrying a small notebook in one hand, walked briskly into the room. It was not necessary for Psmith to get his Sherlock Holmes system to work. His whole appearance proclaimed the new-comer to be the long-expected collector of rents.
CHAPTER XX
CORNERED
He stood in the doorway looking with some surprise at the group inside. He was a smallish, pale-faced man with protruding eyes and teeth which gave him a certain resemblance to a rabbit.
'Hello,' he said.
'Welcome to New York,' said Psmith.
Master Maloney, who had taken advantage of the interruption to edge farther into the room, now appeared to consider the question of his departure permanently shelved. He sidled to a corner and sat down on an empty soap- box with the air of a dramatic critic at the opening night of a new play. The scene looked good to him. It promised interesting developments. Master Maloney was an earnest student of the drama, as exhibited in the theatres of the East Side, and few had ever applauded the hero of 'Escaped from Sing-Sing,' or hissed the villain of 'Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak-Model' with more fervour than he. He liked his drama to have plenty of action, and to his practised eye this one promised well. Psmith he looked upon as a quite amiable lunatic, from whom little was to be expected; but there was a set expression on Billy Windsor's face which suggested great things.
His pleasure was abruptly quenched. Billy Windsor, placing a firm hand on his collar, led him to the door and pushed him out, closing the door behind him.
The rent collector watched these things with a puzzled eye. He now turned to Psmith.
'Say, seen anything of the wops that live here?' he inquired.
'I am addressing--?' said Psmith courteously.
'My name's Gooch.'
Psmith bowed.
