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Mike saw his assailant lift the stick again, and then collapse as the old Etonian's right took him under the chin. He darted to Psmith's side. 'This is no place for us, observed the latter sadly. 'Shift ho, I think. Come on. They dashed simultaneously for the spot where the crowd was thinnest.
For about a quarter of an hour the only sound that broke the silence of the room was the scratching of Psmith's pen and the musical expectoration of Messrs. Otto and Jarvis. Finally Psmith leaned back in his chair with a satisfied expression, and spoke.
Psmith's demeanour was perhaps a shade patronizing, but he displayed interest. Mike proceeded to the meeting with the air of an about-to-be-washed dog. He was loathing the whole business with a heartiness worthy of a better cause. Somehow, he felt he was going to be made to look a fool before the afternoon was over.
In the room below there were whisperings and mutterings, growing gradually louder till something resembling coherent conversation came to Psmith's ears, as he knelt by the trap making meditative billiard-shots with the stick at a small pebble. "Aw g'wan! Don't be a quitter!" "Who's a quitter?" "Youse is a quitter. Get on top de roof. He can't hoit youse." "De guy's gotten a big stick."
"You would have done better, Smith, not to have given me all this trouble. You have done yourself no good by it." "It's been great fun, though, sir," argued Psmith. "Fun!" Mr. Downing laughed grimly. "You may have reason to change your opinion of what constitutes " His voice failed as his eye fell on the all-black toe of the shoe. He looked up, and caught Psmith's benevolent gaze.
Mike was tired after his journey, and he had begun to doze when he was jerked back to wakefulness by the stealthy turning of the door handle; the faintest rustle from Psmith's direction followed, and a slight giggle, succeeded by a series of deep breaths, showed that Jellicoe, too, had heard the noise. There was a creaking sound.
Psmith's hat, suddenly imbued with life, sprang into the air and vanished, whirling into the night. The thought did not come to them consciously at the moment, there being little time to think, but it was evident as soon as, diving out of the circle of light into the sheltering darkness, they crouched down and waited for the next move, that a somewhat skilful ambush had been effected.
I have had so few opportunities of getting into touch with the literature of this great country." Billy Windsor stretched out an arm and pulled a bundle of papers from the book-stand. He tossed them on to the settee by Psmith's side. "There you are," he said, "if you really feel like it. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you've got the nerve, read on."
Without waiting to discover what this might be, he leaned his bicycle against the wall, went out, and locked the door, after which he ran across to Outwood's. Fortune had favoured his undertaking by decreeing that a stout drain-pipe should pass up the wall within a few inches of his and Psmith's study.
Psmith's muscles stiffened for a spring. There was little chance of its being effective, but at least it would be better to put up some kind of a fight. And he had a faint hope that the suddenness of his movement might upset the other's aim. He was bound to be hit somewhere. That was certain. But quickness might save him to some extent. He braced his leg against the back of the cab.
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