It was late in the evening when Psmith returned to the metropolis, after a pleasant afternoon at the Brady training-camp. The Kid, having heard the details of the ride, offered once more to abandon his match with Eddie Wood, but Psmith would not hear of it. He was fairly satisfied that the opposition had fired their last shot, and that their next move would be to endeavour to come to terms. They could not hope to catch him off his guard a second time, and, as far as hired assault and battery were concerned, he was as safe in New York, now that Bat Jarvis had declared himself on his side, as he would have been in the middle of a desert. What Bat said was law on the East Side. No hooligan, however eager to make money, would dare to act against a _protégé_ of the Groome Street leader. The only flaw in Psmith's contentment was the absence of Billy Windsor. On this night of all nights the editorial staff of _Cosy Moments_ should have been together to celebrate the successful outcome of their campaign. Psmith dined alone, his enjoyment of the rather special dinner which he felt justified in ordering in honour of the occasion somewhat diminished by the thought of Billy's hard case. He had seen Mr William Collier in _The Man from Mexico_, and that had given him an understanding of what a term of imprisonment on Blackwell's Island meant. Billy, during these lean days, must be supporting life on bread, bean soup, and water. Psmith, toying with the hors d'oeuvre, was somewhat saddened by the thought. * * * All was quiet at the office on the following day. Bat Jarvis, again accompanied by the faithful Otto, took up his position in the inner room, prepared to repel all invaders; but none arrived. No sounds broke the peace of the outer office except the whistling of Master Maloney. Things were almost dull when the telephone bell rang. Psmith took down the receiver. "Hullo?" he said. "I'm Parker," said a moody voice. Psmith uttered a cry of welcome. "Why, Comrade Parker, this is splendid! How goes it? Did you get back all right yesterday? I was sorry to have to tear myself away, but I had other engagements. But why use the telephone? Why not come here in person? You know how welcome you are. Hire a taxi-cab and come right round." Mr. Parker made no reply to the invitation. "Mr. Waring would like to see you." "Who, Comrade Parker?" "Mr. Stewart Waring." "The celebrated tenement house-owner?" Silence from the other end of the wire. "Well," said Psmith, "what step does he propose to take towards it?" "He tells me to say that he will be in his office at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning. His office is in the Morton Building, Nassau Street." Psmith clicked his tongue regretfully. "Then I do not see how we can meet," he said. "I shall be here." "He wishes to see you at his office."