Psmith repeated his observation.
“Huh?” said the man.
Psmith was beginning to lose the unruffled calm which made him such an impressive figure to the public eye. He had not taken into consideration the possibility that the object of his search might be deaf. It undoubtedly added to the embarrassment of the pursuit. He was moving away, when a hand fell on his sleeve.
Psmith turned. The hand which still grasped his sleeve belonged to an elegantly dressed young man of somewhat nervous and feverish appearance. During his recent vigil Psmith had noticed this young man standing not far away, and had had half a mind to include him in the platoon of new friends he was making that morning.
“I say,” said this young man in a tense whisper, “did I hear you say that there would be rain in Northumberland to-morrow?”
“If,” said Psmith, “you were anywhere within the radius of a dozen yards while I was chatting with the recent deaf adder, I think it is possible that you did.”
“Good for the crops,” said the young man. “Come over here where we can talk quietly.”
§ 2
“So you’re R. Psmith?” said the young man, when they had made their way to a remote corner of the lobby, apart from the throng.
“The same.”