"So we thought. Comrade Parker, however, totally disagreed with us."
"Parker?"
"That's what I'm coming to," said Billy. "The day before yesterday a man named Parker called at the office and tried to buy us off."
Billy's voice grew indignant at the recollection.
"You gave him the hook, I guess?" queried the interested Kid.
"To such an extent, Comrade Brady," said Psmith, "that he left breathing threatenings and slaughter. And it is for that reason that we have ventured to call upon you."
"It's this way," said Billy. "We're pretty sure by this time that whoever the man is this fellow Parker's working for has put one of the gangs on to us."
"You don't say!" exclaimed the Kid. "Gum! Mr. Windsor, they're tough propositions, those gangs."
"We've been followed in the streets, and once they put up a bluff to get us where they could do us in. So we've come along to you. We can look after ourselves out of the office, you see, but what we want is some one to help in case they try to rush us there."
"In brief, a fighting-editor," said Psmith. "At all costs we must have privacy. No writer can prune and polish his sentences to his satisfaction if he is compelled constantly to break off in order to eject boisterous hooligans. We therefore offer you the job of sitting in the outer room and intercepting these bravoes before they can reach us. The salary we leave to you. There are doubloons and to spare in the old oak chest. Take what you need and put the rest—if any—back. How does the offer strike you, Comrade Brady?"