"Five years. People don't remember a thing here that happened five years back unless they're reminded of it." Psmith lit another cigarette. "We will remind them," he said. Billy nodded. "Of course," he said, "one or two of the papers against him in this Aldermanic Election business tried to bring the thing up, but they didn't cut any ice. The other papers said it was a shame, hounding a man who was sorry for the past and who was trying to make good now; so they dropped it. Everybody thought that Waring was on the level now. He's been shooting off a lot of hot air lately about philanthropy and so on. Not that he has actually done a thing--not so much as given a supper to a dozen news-boys; but he's talked, and talk gets over if you keep it up long enough." Psmith nodded adhesion to this dictum. "So that naturally he wants to keep it dark about these tenements. It'll smash him at the election when it gets known." "Why is he so set on becoming an Alderman," inquired Psmith. "There's a lot of graft to being an Alderman," explained Billy. "I see. No wonder the poor gentleman was so energetic in his methods. What is our move now, Comrade Windsor?" Billy stared. "Why, publish the name, of course." "But before then? How are we going to ensure the safety of our evidence? We stand or fall entirely by that slip of paper, because we've got the beggar's name in the writing of his own collector, and that's proof positive." "That's all right," said Billy, patting his breast-pocket. "Nobody's going to get it from me." Psmith dipped his hand into his trouser-pocket. "Comrade Windsor," he said, producing a piece of paper, "how do we go?" He leaned back in his chair, surveying Billy blandly through his eye-glass. Billy's eyes were goggling. He looked from Psmith to the paper and from the paper to Psmith. "What--what the--?" he stammered. "Why, it's it!" Psmith nodded. "How on earth did you get it?" Psmith knocked the ash off his cigarette. "Comrade Windsor," he said, "I do not wish to cavil or carp or rub it in in any way. I will merely remark that you pretty nearly landed us in the soup, and pass on to more congenial topics. Didn't you know we were followed to this place?" "Followed!" "By a merchant in what Comrade Maloney would call a tall-shaped hat. I spotted him at an early date, somewhere down by Twenty-ninth Street. When we dived into Sixth Avenue for a space at Thirty-third Street, did he dive, too? He did. And when we turned into Forty-second Street, there he was. I tell you, Comrade Windsor, leeches were aloof, and burrs non-adhesive compared with that tall-shaped-hatted blighter." "Yes?" "Do you remember, as you came to the entrance of this place, somebody knocking against you?" "Yes, there was a pretty big crush in the entrance."