CHAPTER IV. PAINFUL SCENE AT THE DRONES CLUB
Meanwhile, at the Drones Club, a rather painful scene had been taking place. Psmith, regaining the shelter of the building, had made his way to the wash-room, where, having studied his features with interest for a moment in the mirror, he smoothed his hair, which the rain had somewhat disordered, and brushed his clothes with extreme care. He then went to the cloak-room for his hat. The attendant regarded him as he entered with the air of one whose mind is not wholly at rest.
“ Mr. Walderwick was in here a moment ago, sir,” said the attendant.
“ Yes?” said Psmith, mildly interested. “An energetic, bustling soul, Comrade Walderwick. Always somewhere. Now here, now there.”
“ Asking about his umbrella, he was,” pursued the attendant with
