HE rain had stopped when Psmith stepped out into the street, and the sun was shining again in that half blustering1, half apologetic manner which it affects on its reappearance after a summer shower. The pavements glistened2 cheerfully, and the air had a welcome freshness. Pausing at the corner, he pondered for a moment as to the best method of passing the hour and twenty minutes which must elapse before he could reasonably think of lunching. The fact that the offices of the Morning Globe were within easy strolling distance decided4 him to go thither5 and see if the first post had brought anything in the shape of answers to his advertisements. And his energy was rewarded a few minutes later when Box 365 on being opened yielded up quite a little budget of literary matter. No fewer than seven letters in all. A nice bag.
What, however, had appeared at first sight evidence of a pleasing ebullition of enterprise on the part of the newspaper-reading public turned out on closer inspection6, when he had retired7 to a corner where he could concentrate in peace, a hollow delusion8. Enterprising in a sense though the communications were—and they certainly showed the writers as men of considerable ginger9 and business push—to Psmith they came as a disappointment. He had expected better things. These[p. 81] letters were not at all what he had paid good money to receive. They missed the point altogether. The right spirit, it seemed to him, was entirely10 absent.
The first envelope, attractive though it looked from the outside, being of an expensive brand of stationery11 and gaily12 adorned13 with a somewhat startling crest14 merely contained a pleasantly-worded offer from a Mr. Alistair MacDougall to advance him any sum from ten to fifty thousand pounds on his note of hand only. The second revealed a similar proposal from another Scot named Colin MacDonald. While in the third Mr. Ian Campbell was prepared to go as high as one hundred thousand. All three philanthropists had but one stipulation15 to make—they would have no dealings with minors16. Youth, with all its glorious traditions, did not seem to appeal to them. But they cordially urged Psmith, in the event of his having celebrated17 his twenty-first birthday, to come round to the office and take the stuff away in a sack.
Keeping his head well in the midst of this shower of riches, Psmith dropped the three letters with a sigh into the waste-paper basket, and opened the next in order. This was a bulky envelope, and its contents consisted of a printed brochure entitled, “This Night Shall Thy Soul Be Required Of Thee”—while, by a curious and appropriate coincidence, Number Five proved to be a circular from an energetic firm of coffin-makers offering to bury him for eight pounds ten. Number Six, also printed, was a manifesto18 from one Howard Hill, of Newmarket, recommending him to apply without delay for “Hill’s Three-Horse Special,” without which—(“Who,” demanded Mr. Hill in large type, “gave you Wibbly-Wob for the Jubilee19 Cup?”)—no sportsman could hope to accomplish the undoing20 of the bookmakers.
[p. 82]Although by doing so he convicted himself of that very lack of enterprise which he had been deploring21 in the great public, Psmith placed this communication with the others in the waste-paper baskets. There now remained only Number Seven, and a slight flicker22 of hope returned to him when he perceived that this envelope was addressed by hand and not in typescript. He opened it.
Beyond a doubt he had kept the pick of the bunch to the last. Here was something that made up for all those other disappointments. Written in a scrawly23 and apparently24 agitated25 hand, the letter ran as follows:
“If R. Psmith will meet the writer in the lobby of the Piccadilly Palace Hotel at twelve sharp, Friday, July 1, business may result if business meant and terms reasonable. R. Psmith will wear a pink chrysanthemum26 in his buttonhole, and will say to the writer, ‘There will be rain in Northumberland to-morrow,’ to which the writer will reply, ‘Good for the crops.’ Kindly27 be punctual.”
A pleased smile played about Psmith’s solemn face as he read this communication for the second time. It was much more the sort of thing for which he had been hoping. Although his closest friend, Mike Jackson, was a young man of complete ordinariness, Psmith’s tastes when he sought companionship lay as a rule in the direction of the bizarre. He preferred his humanity eccentric. And “the writer,” to judge him by this specimen28 of his correspondence, appeared to be eccentric enough for the most exacting29 taste. Whether this promising30 person turned out to be a ribald jester or an earnest crank, Psmith felt no doubt whatever as to the advisability of following the matter up.[p. 83] Whichever he might be, his society ought to afford entertainment during the interval31 before lunch. Psmith glanced at his watch. The hour was a quarter to twelve. He would be able to secure the necessary chrysanthemum and reach the Piccadilly Palace Hotel by twelve sharp, thus achieving the businesslike punctuality on which the unknown writer seemed to set such store.
* * * * *
It was not until he had entered a florist32’s shop on the way to the tryst33 that it was borne in upon him that the adventure was going to have its drawbacks. The first of these was the chrysanthemum. Preoccupied34 with the rest of the communication, Psmith, when he had read the letter, had not given much thought to the decoration which it would be necessary for him to wear; and it was only when, in reply to his demand for a chrysanthemum, the florist came forward, almost hidden, like the army at Dunsinane, behind what looked like a small shrubbery, that he realised what he, a correct and fastidious dresser, was up against.
“Is that a chrysanthemum?”
“Yes, sir. Pink chrysanthemum.”
“One?”
“Yes, sir. One pink chrysanthemum.”
Psmith regarded the repellent object with disfavour through his eyeglass. Then, having placed it in his buttonhole, he proceeded on his way, feeling like some wild thing peering through the undergrowth. The distressing36 shrub35 completely spoiled his walk.
Arrived at the hotel and standing37 in the lobby, he perceived the existence of further complications. The lobby was in its usual state of congestion38, it being a recognised meeting-place for those who did not find it[p. 84] convenient to go as far east as that traditional rendezvous39 of Londoners, the spot under the clock at Charing40 Cross Station; and “the writer,” while giving instructions as to how Psmith should ornament41 his exterior42, had carelessly omitted to mention how he himself was to be recognised. A rollicking, slap-dash conspirator43, was Psmith’s opinion.
It seemed best to take up a position as nearly as possible in the centre of the lobby and stand there until “the writer,” lured44 by the chrysanthemum, should come forward and start something. This he accordingly did, but when at the end of ten minutes nothing had happened beyond a series of collisions with perhaps a dozen hurrying visitors to the hotel, he decided on a more active course. A young man of sporting appearance had been standing beside him for the last five minutes, and ever and anon this young man had glanced with some impatience45 at his watch. He was plainly waiting for someone, so Psmith tried the formula on him.
“There will be rain,” said Psmith, “in Northumberland to-morrow.”
The young man looked at him, not without interest, certainly, but without that gleam of intelligence in his eye which Psmith had hoped to see.
“What?” he replied.
“There will be rain in Northumberland to-morrow.”
“Thanks, Zadkiel,” said the young man. “Deuced gratifying, I’m sure. I suppose you couldn’t predict the winner of the Goodwood Cup as well?”
He then withdrew rapidly to intercept46 a young woman in a large hat who had just come through the swing doors. Psmith was forced to the conclusion that this was not his man. He was sorry on the whole, for he had seemed a pleasant fellow.
As Psmith had taken up a stationary47 position and[p. 85] the population of the lobby was for the most part in a state of flux48, he was finding himself next to someone new all the time; and now he decided to accost49 the individual whom the re-shuffle had just brought elbow to elbow with him. This was a jovial50-looking soul with a flowered waistcoat, a white hat, and a mottled face. Just the man who might have written that letter.
The effect upon this person of Psmith’s meteorological remark was instantaneous. A light of the utmost friendliness51 shone in his beautifully-shaven face as he turned. He seized Psmith’s hand and gripped it with a delightful52 heartiness53. He had the air of a man who has found a friend, and what is more, an old friend. He had a sort of journeys-end-in-lovers’-meeting look.
“My dear old chap!” he cried. “I’ve been waiting for you to speak for the last five minutes. Knew we’d met before somewhere, but couldn’t place you. Face familiar as the dickens, of course. Well, well, well! And how are they all?”
“Who?” said Psmith courteously54.
“Why, the boys, my dear chap.”
“Oh, the boys?”
“The dear old boys,” said the other, specifying55 more exactly. He slapped Psmith on the shoulder. “What times those were, eh?”
“Which?” said Psmith.
“The times we all used to have together.”
“Oh, those?” said Psmith.
Something of discouragement seemed to creep over the other’s exuberance56, as a cloud creeps over the summer sky. But he persevered57.
“Fancy meeting you again like this!”
“It is a small world,” agreed Psmith.
“I’d ask you to come and have a drink,” said the jovial one, with the slight increase of tensity which[p. 86] comes to a man who approaches the core of a business deal, “but the fact is my ass3 of a man sent me out this morning without a penny. Forgot to give me my note-case. Damn’ careless! I’ll have to sack the fellow.”
“Annoying, certainly,” said Psmith.
“I wish I could have stood you a drink,” said the other wistfully.
“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been,’” sighed Psmith.
“I’ll tell you what,” said the jovial one, inspired. “Lend me a fiver, my dear old boy. That’s the best way out of the difficulty. I can send it round to your hotel or wherever you are this evening when I get home.”
A sweet, sad smile played over Psmith’s face.
“Leave me, comrade!” he murmured.
“Eh?”
“Pass along, old friend, pass along.”
“Nothing doing?” he inquired.
“Nothing.”
“Well, there was no harm in trying,” argued the other.
“None whatever.”
“You see,” said the now far less jovial man confidentially60, “you look such a perfect mug with that eyeglass that it tempts61 a chap.”
“I can quite understand how it must!”
“No offence.”
“Assuredly not.”
The white hat disappeared through the swing doors, and Psmith returned to his quest. He engaged the attention of a middle-aged62 man in a snuff-coloured suit who had just come within hail.
[p. 87]“There will be rain in Northumberland to-morrow,” he said.
The man peered at him inquiringly.
“Hey?” he said.
Psmith repeated his observation.
“Huh?” said the man.
Psmith was beginning to lose the unruffled calm which made him such an impressive figure to the public eye. He had not taken into consideration the possibility that the object of his search might be deaf. It undoubtedly63 added to the embarrassment64 of the pursuit. He was moving away, when a hand fell on his sleeve.
Psmith turned. The hand which still grasped his sleeve belonged to an elegantly dressed young man of somewhat nervous and feverish65 appearance. During his recent vigil Psmith had noticed this young man standing not far away, and had had half a mind to include him in the platoon of new friends he was making that morning.
“I say,” said this young man in a tense whisper, “did I hear you say that there would be rain in Northumberland to-morrow?”
“If,” said Psmith, “you were anywhere within the radius66 of a dozen yards while I was chatting with the recent deaf adder67, I think it is possible that you did.”
“Good for the crops,” said the young man. “Come over here where we can talk quietly.”
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1
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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2
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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4
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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5
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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6
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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7
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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8
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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9
ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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10
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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11
stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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12
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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13
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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14
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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15
stipulation
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| n.契约，规定，条文；条款说明 | |
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16
minors
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| n.未成年人( minor的名词复数 )；副修科目；小公司；[逻辑学]小前提v.[主美国英语]副修，选修，兼修( minor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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17
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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18
manifesto
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| n.宣言，声明 | |
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19
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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20
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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21
deploring
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的现在分词 ) | |
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22
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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23
scrawly
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| 潦草地写 | |
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24
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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25
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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26
chrysanthemum
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| n.菊，菊花 | |
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27
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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28
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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29
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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30
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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31
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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32
florist
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| n.花商；种花者 | |
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33
tryst
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| n.约会；v.与…幽会 | |
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34
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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35
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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36
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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37
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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38
congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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39
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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40
charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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41
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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42
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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43
conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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44
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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46
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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47
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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48
flux
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| n.流动；不断的改变 | |
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49
accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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50
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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51
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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52
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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53
heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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54
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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55
specifying
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| v.指定( specify的现在分词 )；详述；提出…的条件；使具有特性 | |
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56
exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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57
persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
joviality
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| n.快活 | |
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59
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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60
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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61
tempts
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| v.引诱或怂恿（某人）干不正当的事( tempt的第三人称单数 )；使想要 | |
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62
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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63
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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64
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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65
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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66
radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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67
adder
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| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
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