in Madison Square Garden."

"Sure," said Master Maloney.

Then Psmith, having smoothed the nap of his hat and flicked a speck
of dust from his coat-sleeve, walked to the door of the inner room
and went in.



CHAPTER VIII

THE HONEYED WORD

Master Maloney's statement that "about 'steen visitors" had arrived
in addition to Messrs. Asher, Waterman, and the Rev. Philpotts
proved to have been due to a great extent to a somewhat feverish
imagination. There were only five men in the room.

As Psmith entered, every eye was turned upon him. To an outside
spectator he would have seemed rather like a very well-dressed
Daniel introduced into a den of singularly irritable lions. Five
pairs of eyes were smouldering with a long-nursed resentment. Five
brows were corrugated with wrathful lines. Such, however, was the
simple majesty of Psmith's demeanour that for a moment there was
dead silence. Not a word was spoken as he paced, wrapped in
thought, to the editorial chair. Stillness brooded over the room as
he carefully dusted that piece of furniture, and, having done so to
his satisfaction, hitched up the knees of his trousers and sank
gracefully into a sitting position.