bereaved owner. Observe the sequel. He is now as a prize tortoiseshell to Comrade Jarvis."
"So Bat wouldn't stand for it?" said Billy.
"Not on his life. Turned it down without a blink. And he sent me along to find you and tell you so."
"We are much obliged to Comrade Jarvis," said Psmith.
"He told me to tell you to watch out, because another gang is dead sure to take on the job. But he said you were to know he wasn't mixed up in it. He also said that any time you were in bad, he'd do his best for you. You've certainly made the biggest kind of hit with Bat. I haven't seen him so worked up over a thing in years. Well, that's all, I reckon. Guess I'll be pushing along. I've a date to keep. Glad to have met you. Glad to have met you, Mr. Smith. Pardon me, you have an insect on your coat."
He flicked at Psmith's coat with a quick movement. Psmith thanked him gravely.
"Good night," concluded the stranger, moving off. For a few moments after he had gone, Psmith and Billy sat smoking in silence. They had plenty to think about.
"How's the time going?" asked Billy at length. Psmith felt for his watch, and looked at Billy with some sadness.
"I am sorry to say, Comrade Windsor—"
"Hullo," said Billy, "here's that man coming back again."
The stranger came up to their table, wearing a light overcoat over his dress clothes. From the pocket of this he produced a gold watch.
"Force of habit," he said apologetically, handing it to Psmith. "You'll pardon me. Good night, gentlemen, again."
CHAPTER XII — A RED TAXIMETER
The Astor Hotel faces on to Times Square. A few paces to the right of the main entrance the Times Building towers to the sky; and at the foot of this the stream of traffic breaks, forming two channels. To the right of the building is Seventh Avenue, quiet, dark, and dull. To the left is Broadway,
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