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 a touch of
