Mr. Wilberfloss side-stepped and turned once more to Psmith, who was offering B. Henderson Asher a cigarette.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Who am I?" repeated Psmith in an astonished tone.
"Who are you?"
"I am Psmith," said the old Etonian reverently. "There is a preliminary P before the name. This, however, is silent. Like the tomb. Compare such words as ptarmigan, psalm, and phthisis."
"These gentlemen tell me you're acting editor. Who appointed you?"
Psmith reflected.
"It is rather a nice point," he said. "It might be claimed that I appointed myself. You may say, however, that Comrade Windsor appointed me."
"Ah! And where is Mr. Windsor?"
"In prison," said Psmith sorrowfully.