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Page 67
'Tell Mr Bickersdyke that story of yours,' said Mr Gregory.
'Surely,' said Psmith reprovingly, 'this is no time for anecdotes. Mr
Bickersdyke 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 work
today 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 to
play 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. What
could Comrade Jackson do? Could he refuse to help his brother when it
was in his power? His generous nature is a byword. He did the only
possible thing. He consented to play.'
Mr Bickersdyke spoke.
'Am I to understand,' he asked, with sinister calm, 'that Mr Jackson
has left his work and gone off to play in a cricket match?'
'Something of that sort has, I believe, happened,' said Psmith. 'He
knew, of course,' he added, bowing gracefully in Mr Gregory's
direction, 'that he was leaving his work in thoroughly competent
hands.'
'Thank you,' said Mr Bickersdyke. 'That will do. You will help Mr
Gregory in his department for the time being, Mr Smith. I will arrange
for 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 the
workings of Fate! A moment back, and your life was a blank. Comrade
Jackson, that prince of Fixed Depositors, had gone. How, you said to
yourself despairingly, can his place be filled? Then the cloud broke,
and the sun shone out again. _I_ came to help you. What you lose
on the swings, you make up on the roundabouts. Now show me what I have
to do, and then let us make this department sizzle. You have drawn a
good ticket, Comrade Gregory.'
27. At Lord's
Mike got to Lord's just as the umpires moved out into the field. He
raced round to the pavilion. Joe met him on the stairs.
'It's all right,' he said. 'No hurry. We've won the toss. I've put you
in fourth wicket.'
'Right ho,' said Mike. 'Glad we haven't to field just yet.'
'We oughtn't to have to field today if we don't chuck our wickets
away.'
'Good wicket?'
'Like a billiard-table. I'm glad you were able to come. Have any
difficulty in getting away?'
Joe Jackson's knowledge of the workings of a bank was of the slightest.
He himself had never, since he left Oxford, been in a position where
there were obstacles to getting off to play in first-class cricket. By
profession he was agent to a sporting baronet whose hobby was the
cricket of the county, and so, far from finding any difficulty in
playing for the county, he was given to understand by his employer that
that was his chief duty. It never occurred to him that Mike might find
his bank less amenable in the matter of giving leave. His only fear,
when he rang Mike up that morning, had been that this might be a
particularly busy day at the New Asiatic Bank. If there was no special
rush of work, he took it for granted that Mike would simply go to the
manager, ask for leave to play in the match, and be given it with a
beaming smile.
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