So the politicians passed the word to the police, and the police left the Groome Street Gang unmolested and they waxed fat and flourished. Such was Bat Jarvis. * * * "Pipe de collar," said Mr. Jarvis, touching the cat's neck. "Mine, mister." "Pugsy said it must be," said Billy Windsor. "We found two fellows setting a dog on to it, so we took it in for safety." Mr. Jarvis nodded approval. "There's a basket here, if you want it," said Billy. "Nope. Here, kit." Mr. Jarvis stooped, and, still whistling softly, lifted the cat. He looked round the company, met Psmith's eye-glass, was transfixed by it for a moment, and finally turned again to Billy Windsor. "Say!" he said, and paused. "Obliged," he added. He shifted the cat on to his left arm, and extended his right hand to Billy. "Shake!" he said. Billy did so. Mr. Jarvis continued to stand and whistle for a few moments more. "Say!" he said at length, fixing his roving gaze once more upon Billy. "Obliged. Fond of de kit, I am." Psmith nodded approvingly. "And rightly," he said. "Rightly, Comrade Jarvis. She is not unworthy of your affection. A most companionable animal, full of the highest spirits. Her knockabout act in the restaurant would have satisfied the most jaded critic. No diner-out can afford to be without such a cat. Such a cat spells death to boredom." Mr. Jarvis eyed him fixedly, as if pondering over his remarks. Then he turned to Billy again. "Say!" he said. "Any time you're in bad. Glad to be of service. You know the address. Groome Street. Bat Jarvis. Good night. Obliged." He paused and whistled a few more bars, then nodded to Psmith and Mike, and left the room. They heard him shuffling downstairs. "A blithe spirit," said Psmith. "Not garrulous, perhaps, but what of that? I am a man of few words myself. Comrade Jarvis's massive silences appeal to me. He seems to have taken a fancy to you, Comrade Windsor." Billy Windsor laughed. "I don't know that he's just the sort of side-partner I'd go out of my way to choose, from what I've heard about him. Still, if one got mixed up with any of that East-Side crowd, he would be a mighty useful friend to have. I guess there's no harm done by getting him grateful." "Assuredly not," said Psmith. "We should not despise the humblest. And now, Comrade Windsor," he said, taking up the paper again, "let me concentrate myself tensely on this very entertaining little journal of yours. Comrade Jackson, here is one for you. For sound, clear-headed criticism," he added to Billy, "Comrade Jackson's name is a by-word in our English literary salons. His opinion will be both of interest and of profit to you, Comrade Windsor." CHAPTER V PLANNING IMPROVEMENTS