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Page 76
Psmith called for the bill and paid it in the affable manner of a
monarch signing a charter. Mike sat silent, his mind in a whirl. He saw
exactly what had happened. He could almost hear Psmith talking his
father into agreeing with his scheme. He could think of nothing to say.
As usually happened in any emotional crisis in his life, words
absolutely deserted him. The thing was too big. Anything he could say
would sound too feeble. When a friend has solved all your difficulties
and smoothed out all the rough places which were looming in your path,
you cannot thank him as if he had asked you to lunch. The occasion
demanded some neat, polished speech; and neat, polished speeches were
beyond Mike.
'I say, Psmith--' he began.
Psmith rose.
'Let us now,' he said, 'collect our hats and meander to the club,
where, I have no doubt, we shall find Comrade Bickersdyke, all
unconscious of impending misfortune, dreaming pleasantly over coffee
and a cigar in the lower smoking-room.'
30. The Last Sad Farewells
As it happened, that was precisely what Mr Bickersdyke was doing. He
was feeling thoroughly pleased with life. For nearly nine months Psmith
had been to him a sort of spectre at the feast inspiring him with an
ever-present feeling of discomfort which he had found impossible to
shake off. And tonight he saw his way of getting rid of him.
At five minutes past four Mr Gregory, crimson and wrathful, had plunged
into his room with a long statement of how Psmith, deputed to help in
the life and thought of the Fixed Deposits Department, had left the
building at four o'clock, when there was still another hour and a
half's work to be done.
Moreover, Mr Gregory deposed, the errant one, seen sliding out of the
swinging door, and summoned in a loud, clear voice to come back, had
flatly disobeyed and had gone upon his ways 'Grinning at me,' said the
aggrieved Mr Gregory, 'like a dashed ape.' A most unjust description of
the sad, sweet smile which Psmith had bestowed upon him from the
doorway.
Ever since that moment Mr Bickersdyke had felt that there was a silver
lining to the cloud. Hitherto Psmith had left nothing to be desired in
the manner in which he performed his work. His righteousness in the
office had clothed him as in a suit of mail. But now he had slipped. To
go off an hour and a half before the proper time, and to refuse to
return when summoned by the head of his department--these were offences
for which he could be dismissed without fuss. Mr Bickersdyke looked
forward to tomorrow's interview with his employee.
Meanwhile, having enjoyed an excellent dinner, he was now, as Psmith
had predicted, engaged with a cigar and a cup of coffee in the lower
smoking-room of the Senior Conservative Club.
Psmith and Mike entered the room when he was about half through these
luxuries.
Psmith's first action was to summon a waiter, and order a glass of neat
brandy. 'Not for myself,' he explained to Mike. 'For Comrade
Bickersdyke. He is about to sustain a nasty shock, and may need a
restorative at a moment's notice. For all we know, his heart may not be
strong. In any case, it is safest to have a pick-me-up handy.'
He paid the waiter, and advanced across the room, followed by Mike. In
his hand, extended at arm's length, he bore the glass of brandy.
Mr Bickersdyke caught sight of the procession, and started. Psmith set
the brandy down very carefully on the table, beside the manager's
coffee cup, and, dropping into a chair, regarded him pityingly through
his eyeglass. Mike, who felt embarrassed, took a seat some little way
behind his companion. This was Psmith's affair, and he proposed to
allow him to do the talking.
Mr Bickersdyke, except for a slight deepening of the colour of his
complexion, gave no sign of having seen them. He puffed away at his
cigar, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
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