and now they lead the field."
"The country must squeal for Cosy Moments," said Psmith firmly. "I fancy I have a scheme which may not prove wholly scaly. Wandering yesterday with Comrade Jackson in a search for Fourth Avenue, I happened upon a spot called Pleasant Street. Do you know it?"
Billy Windsor nodded.
"I went down there once or twice when I was a reporter. It's a beastly place."
"It is a singularly beastly place. We went into one of the houses."
"They're pretty bad."
"Who owns them?"
"I don't know. Probably some millionaire. Those tenement houses are about as paying an investment as you can have."
"Hasn't anybody ever tried to do anything about them?"
"Not so far as I know. It's pretty difficult to get at these fellows, you see. But they're fierce, aren't they, those houses!"
"What," asked Psmith, "is the precise difficulty of getting at these merchants?"
"Well, it's this way. There are all sorts of laws about the places, but any one who wants can get round them as easy as falling off a log. The law says a tenement house is a building occupied by more than two families. Well, when there's a fuss, all the man has to do is to clear out all the families but two. Then, when the inspector fellow comes along, and says, let's say, 'Where's your running water on each floor? That's what the law says you've got to have, and here are these people having to go downstairs and out of doors to fetch their water supplies,' the landlord simply replies, 'Nothing doing. This isn't a tenement house at all. There are only two families here.' And when the fuss has blown over, back come the rest of the crowd, and things go on the same as before."
"I see," said Psmith. "A very cheery scheme."
"Then there's another thing. You can't
Prev.
Back
Top