A RED TAXIMETER
The Astor Hotel faces on to Times Square. A few paces to the right
of the main entrance the Times Building towers to the sky; and at
the foot of this the stream of traffic breaks, forming two
channels. To the right of the building is Seventh Avenue, quiet,
dark, and dull. To the left is Broadway, the Great White Way, the
longest, straightest, brightest, wickedest street in the world.
Psmith and Billy, having left the Astor, started to walk down
Broadway to Billy's lodgings in Fourteenth Street. The usual crowd
was drifting slowly up and down in the glare of the white lights.
They had reached Herald Square, when a voice behind them exclaimed,
"Why, it's Mr. Windsor!"
They wheeled round. A flashily dressed man was standing with
outstetched hand.
"I saw you come out of the Astor," he said cheerily. "I said to
myself, 'I know that man.' Darned if I could put a name to you,
though. So I just followed you along, and right here it came to
me."
"It did, did it?" said Billy politely.
"It did, sir. I've never set eyes on you before, but I've seen so
many photographs of you that I reckon we're old friends. I know
your father very well, Mr. Windsor. He showed me the photographs.
You may have heard him speak of me--Jack Lake? How is the old man?
Seen him lately?"
"Not for some time. He was well when he last wrote."
"Good for him. He would be. Tough as a plank, old Joe Windsor. We
always called him Joe."
"You'd have known him down in Missouri, of course?" said Billy.
"That's right. In Missouri. We were side-partners for years. Now,
see here, Mr. Windsor, it's early yet. Won't you and your friend
come along with me and have a smoke and a chat? I live right here
in Thirty-Third Street. I'd be right glad for you to come."
"I don't doubt it," said Billy, "but I'm afraid you'll have to
excuse us."
"In a hurry, are you?"
"Not in the least."
"Then come right along."
"No, thanks."
"Say, why not? It's only a step."
"Because we don't want to. Good night."
He turned, and started to walk away. The other stood for a moment,
staring; then crossed the road.
Psmith broke the silence.
"Correct me if I am wrong, Comrade Windsor," he said tentatively,
"but were you not a trifle--shall we say abrupt?--with the old
family friend?"
Billy Windsor laughed.
"If my father's name was Joseph," he said, "instead of being
William, the same as mine, and if he'd ever been in Missouri in his
life, which he hasn't, and if I'd been photographed since I was a
kid, which I haven't been, I might have gone along. As it was, I
thought it better not to."
"These are deep waters, Comrade Windsor. Do you mean to intimate--?"
"If they can't do any better than that, we shan't have much to
worry us. What do they take us for, I wonder? Farmers? Playing off
a comic-supplement bluff like that on us!"
There was honest indignation in Billy's voice.
"You think, then, that if we had accepted Comrade Lake's
invitation, and gone along for a smoke and a chat, the chat would
not have been of the pleasantest nature?"
"We should have been put out of business."
"I have heard so much," said Psmith, thoughtfully, "of the lavish
hospitality of the American."
"Taxi, sir?"
A red taximeter cab was crawling down the road at their side. Billy
shook his head.
"Not that a taxi would be an unsound scheme," said Psmith.
"Not that particular one, if you don't mind."
"Something about it that offends your aesthetic taste?" queried
Psmith sympathetically.
"Something about it makes my aesthetic taste kick like a mule,"
said Billy.
"Ah, we highly strung literary men do have these curious
prejudices. We cannot help it. We are the slaves of our
temperaments. Let us walk, then. After all, the night is fine, and
we are young and strong."
They had reached Twenty-Third Street when Billy stopped. "I don't
know about walking," he said. "Suppose we take the Elevated?"
"Anything you wish, Comrade Windsor. I am in your hands."
They cut across into Sixth Avenue, and walked up the stairs to the
station of the Elevated Railway. A train was just coming in.
"Has it escaped your notice, Comrade Windsor," said Psmith after a
pause, "that, so far from speeding to your lodgings, we are going
in precisely the opposite direction? We are in an up-town train."
"I noticed it," said Billy briefly.
"Are we going anywhere in particular?"
"This train goes as far as Hundred and Tenth Street. We'll go up to
there."
"And then?"
"And then we'll come back."
"And after that, I suppose, we'll make a trip to Philadelphia, or
Chicago, or somewhere? Well, well, I am in your hands, Comrade
Windsor. The night is yet young. Take me where you will. It is
only five cents a go, and we have money in our purses. We are two
young men out for reckless dissipation. By all means let us have
it."
At Hundred and Tenth Street they left the train, went down the
stairs, and crossed the street. Half-way across Billy stopped.
"What now, Comrade Windsor?" inquired Psmith patiently. "Have you
thought of some new form of entertainment?"
Billy was making for a spot some few yards down the road. Looking
in that direction, Psmith saw his objective. In the shadow of the
Elevated there was standing a taximeter cab.
"Taxi, sir?" said the driver, as they approached.
"We are giving you a great deal of trouble," said Billy. "You must
be losing money over this job. All this while you might be getting
fares down-town."
"These meetings, however," urged Psmith, "are very pleasant."
"I can save you worrying," said Billy. "My address is 84 East
Fourteenth Street. We are going back there now."
"Search me," said the driver, "I don't know what you're talking
about."
"I thought perhaps you did," replied Billy. "Good night."
"These things are very disturbing," said Psmith, when they were in
the train. "Dignity is impossible when one is compelled to be the
Hunted Fawn. When did you begin to suspect that yonder merchant was
doing the sleuth-hound act?"
"When I saw him in Broadway having a heart-to-heart talk with our
friend from Missouri."
"He must be something of an expert at the game to have kept on our
track."
"Not on your life. It's as easy as falling off a log. There are
only certain places where you can get off an Elevated train. All
he'd got to do was to get there before the train, and wait. I
didn't expect to dodge him by taking the Elevated. I just wanted to
make certain of his game."
The train pulled up at the Fourteenth Street station. In the
roadway at the foot of the opposite staircase was a red taximeter
cab.