have a look, anyway.'

Psmith handed him the volume, and, leaning back, sipped his coffee, and
watched him. At first Mike's face was bored and blank, but suddenly an
interested look came into it.

'Aha!' said Psmith.

'Who's Bickersdyke? Anything to do with our Bickersdyke?'

'No other than our genial friend himself.'

Mike turned the pages, reading a line or two on each.

'Hullo!' he said, chuckling. 'He lets himself go a bit, doesn't he!'

'He does,' acknowledged Psmith. 'A fiery, passionate nature, that of
Comrade Bickersdyke.'

'He's simply cursing the Government here. Giving them frightful beans.'

Psmith nodded.

'I noticed the fact myself.'

'But what's it all about?'

'As far as I can glean from Comrade Waller,' said Psmith, 'about twenty
years ago, when he and Comrade Bickersdyke worked hand-in-hand as
fellow clerks at the New Asiatic, they were both members of the Tulse