Mike took one of the ordinary chairs; and Billy Windsor,
planting himself in the rocker, began to rock rhythmically to and
fro, a performance which he kept up untiringly all the time.
"A peaceful scene," observed Psmith. "Three great minds, keen,
alert, restless during business hours, relax. All is calm and
pleasant chit-chat. You have snug quarters up here, Comrade
Windsor. I hold that there is nothing like one's own roof-tree.
It is a great treat to one who, like myself, is located in one of
these vast caravanserai--to be exact, the Astor--to pass a few
moments in the quiet privacy of an apartment such as this."
"It's beastly expensive at the Astor," said Mike.
"The place has that drawback also. Anon, Comrade Jackson, I think
we will hunt around for some such cubby-hole as this, built for
two. Our nervous systems must be conserved."
"On Fourth Avenue," said Billy Windsor, "you can get quite good
flats very cheap. Furnished, too. You should move there. It's not
much of a neighbourhood. I don't know if you mind that?"
"Far from it, Comrade Windsor. It is my aim to see New York in all
its phases. If a certain amount of harmless revelry can be whacked
out of Fourth Avenue, we must dash there with the vim of
highly-trained smell-dogs. Are you with me, Comrade Jackson?"
"All right," said Mike.
"And now, Comrade Windsor, it would be a pleasure to me to peruse
that little journal of which you spoke.
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