times at different polling-stations on election days. A man who can vote, say, ten times in a single day for you, and who controls a great number of followers who are also prepared, if they like you, to vote ten times in a single day for you, is worth cultivating. So the politicians passed the word to the police, and the police left the Groome Street Gang unmolested and they waxed fat and flourished.     

       Such was Bat Jarvis.     

              *    *    * 

       "Pipe de collar," said Mr. Jarvis, touching the cat's neck. "Mine, mister."     

       "Pugsy said it must be," said Billy Windsor. "We found two fellows setting a dog on to it, so we took it in for safety."     

       Mr. Jarvis nodded approval.     

       "There's a basket here, if you want it," said Billy.     

       "Nope. Here, kit."     

       Mr. Jarvis stooped, and, still whistling softly, lifted the cat. He looked round the company, met Psmith's eye-glass, was transfixed by it for a moment, and finally turned again to Billy Windsor.     

       "Say!" he said, and paused. "Obliged," he added.     

       He shifted the cat on to his left arm, and extended his right hand to Billy.     

       "Shake!" he said.     

       Billy did so.     

       Mr. Jarvis continued to stand and whistle for a few moments more.     

       "Say!" he said at length, fixing his roving gaze once more upon Billy.       "Obliged. Fond of de kit, I am."     

       Psmith nodded approvingly.     

       "And rightly," he said. "Rightly, Comrade Jarvis. She is not unworthy of your affection. A most companionable animal, full of the highest spirits. Her knockabout act in the restaurant would have satisfied the most jaded critic. No diner-out can afford to be without such a cat. Such a cat     

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