'Sure,' said the alleged duke.
'This,' said Psmith, when they were seated, and the head-waiter had ceased to hover, 'is a great meeting. I was complaining with some acerbity to Comrade Jackson, before you introduced your very interesting performing- animal speciality, that things in New York were too quiet, too decorous. I have an inkling, Comrade--'
'Windsor's my name.'
'I have an inkling, Comrade Windsor, that we see eye to eye on the subject.'
'I guess that's right. I was raised in the plains, and I lived in Kentucky a while. There's more doing there in a day than there is here in a month. Say, how did you fix it with the old man?'
'With Comrade Freddie? I have a certain amount of influence with him. He is content to order his movements in the main by my judgment. I assured him that all would be well, and he yielded.' Psmith gazed with interest at the cat, which was lapping milk from the saucer. 'Are you training that animal for a show of some kind, Comrade Windsor, or is it a domestic pet?'
'I've adopted her. The office-boy on our paper got her away from a dog this morning, and gave her to me.'
'Your paper?'
'Cosy Moments,' said Billy Windsor, with a touch of shame.
'Cosy Moments?' said Psmith reflectively. 'I regret that the bright little sheet has not come my way up to the present. I must seize an early opportunity of perusing it.'
'Don't you do it.'
'You've no paternal pride in the little journal?'
'It's bad enough to hurt,' said Billy Windsor disgustedly. 'If you really want to see it, come along with me to my place, and I'll show you a copy.'
'It will be a pleasure,' said Psmith. 'Comrade Jackson, have you any previous engagement for to-night?'
'I'm not doing anything,' said Mike.
'Then let us stagger forth with Comrade Windsor. While he is loading up that basket, we will be collecting our hats.... I am not half sure, Comrade Jackson,' he added, as they walked out, 'that Comrade Windsor may not prove to be the genial spirit for whom I have been searching. If you could give me your undivided company, I should ask no more. But with you constantly away, mingling with the gay throng, it is imperative that I have some solid man to accompany me in my ramblings hither and thither. It is possible that Comrade Windsor may possess the qualifications necessary for the post. But here he comes. Let us foregather with him and observe him in private life before arriving at any premature decision.'
CHAPTER IV
BAT JARVIS
Billy Windsor lived in a single room on East Fourteenth Street. Space in New York is valuable, and the average bachelor's apartments consist of one room with a bathroom opening off it. During the daytime this one room loses all traces of being used for sleeping purposes at night. Billy Windsor's room was very much like a public-school study. Along one wall ran a settee. At night this became a bed; but in the daytime it was a settee and nothing but a settee. There was no space for a great deal of furniture. There was one rocking-chair, two ordinary chairs, a table, a book-stand, a typewriter--nobody uses pens in New York--and on the walls a mixed collection of photographs, drawings, knives, and skins, relics of their owner's prairie days. Over the door was the head of a young bear.
Billy's first act on arriving in this sanctum was to release the cat, which, having moved restlessly about for some moments, finally came to the conclusion that there was no means of getting out, and settled itself on a corner of the settee. Psmith, sinking gracefully down beside it, stretched out his legs and lit a cigarette. Mike took one of the ordinary chairs; and Billy Windsor, planting himself in the rocker, began to rock rhythmically to and fro, a performance which he kept up untiringly all the time.
'A peaceful scene,' observed Psmith. 'Three great minds, keen, alert, restless during business hours, relax. All is calm and pleasant chit-chat. You have snug quarters up here, Comrade Windsor. I hold that there is nothing like one's own roof-tree. It is a great treat to one who, like myself, is located in one of these vast caravanserai--to be exact, the Astor--to pass a few moments in the quiet privacy of an apartment such as this.'
'It's beastly expensive at the Astor,' said Mike.
'The place has that drawback also. Anon, Comrade Jackson, I think we will hunt around for some such cubby- hole as this, built for two. Our nervous systems must be conserved.'
'On Fourth Avenue,' said Billy Windsor, 'you can get quite good flats very cheap. Furnished, too. You should move there. It's not much of a neighbourhood. I don't know if you mind that?'
'Far from it, Comrade Windsor. It is my aim to see New York in all its phases. If a certain amount of harmless revelry can be whacked out of Fourth Avenue, we must dash there with the vim of highly-trained smell-dogs. Are you with me, Comrade Jackson?'
'All right,' said Mike.
'And now, Comrade Windsor, it would be a pleasure to me to peruse that little journal of which you spoke. I have had so few opportunities of getting into touch with the literature of this great country.'
Billy Windsor stretched out an arm and pulled a bundle of papers from the book-stand. He tossed them on to the settee by Psmith's side.
'There you are,' he said, 'if you really feel like it. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you've got the nerve, read on.'
Psmith had picked up one of the papers when there came a shuffling of feet in the passage outside, followed by a knock upon the door. The next moment there appeared in the doorway a short, stout young man. There was an indescribable air of toughness about him, partly due to the fact that he wore his hair in a well-oiled fringe almost down to his eyebrows, which gave him the appearance of having no forehead at all. His eyes were small and set close together. His mouth was wide, his jaw prominent. Not, in short, the sort of man you would have picked out on
