The Psmith Omnibus. P. G. Wodehouse

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      "You'll get it hot, if you don't."

      "We'll risk it," said Mike.

      Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere appealed to him. His was a simple and appreciative mind.

      "Come on, you chaps," cried Spiller suddenly.

      There was an inward rush on the enemy's part, but Mike had been watching. He grabbed Spiller by the shoulders and ran him back against the advancing crowd. For a moment the doorway was blocked, then the weight and impetus of Mike and Spiller prevailed, the enemy gave back, and Mike, stepping into the room again, slammed the door and locked it.

      "A neat piece of work," said Psmith approvingly, adjusting his tie at the looking glass. "The preliminaries may now be considered over, the first shot has been fired. The dogs of war are now loose."

      A heavy body crashed against the door.

      "They'll have it down," said Jellicoe.

      "We must act, Comrade Jackson! Might I trouble you just to turn that key quietly, and the handle, and then to stand by for the next attack."

      There was a scrambling of feet in the passage outside, and then a repetition of the onslaught on the door. This time, however, the door, instead of resisting, swung open, and the human battering ram staggered through into the study. Mike, turning after relocking the door, was just in time to see Psmith, with a display of energy of which one would not have believed him capable, grip the invader scientifically by an arm and a leg.

      Mike jumped to help, but it was needless; the captive was already on the windowsill. As Mike arrived, Psmith dropped him onto the flowerbed below.

      Psmith closed the window gently and turned to Jellicoe. "Who was our guest?" he asked, dusting the knees of his trousers where they had pressed against the wall.

      "Robinson. I say, you _are_ a chap!"

      "Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?"

      Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be heard in the corridor.

      Somebody hammered on the door.

      "Yes?" called Psmith patiently.

      "You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if you don't."

      "Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone."

      A bell rang in the distance.

      "Tea," said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now."

      "They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think," said Mike. "There's no harm in going out."

      The passage was empty when they opened the door; the call to food was evidently a thing not to be treated lightly by the enemy.

      In the dining room the beleaguered garrison were the object of general attention. Everybody turned to look at them as they came in. It was plain that the study episode had been a topic of conversation. Spiller's face was crimson, and Robinson's coat sleeve still bore traces of garden mold.

      Mike felt rather conscious of the eyes, but Psmith was in his element. His demeanor throughout the meal was that of some whimsical monarch condescending for a freak to revel with his humble subjects.

      Toward the end of the meal Psmith scribbled a note and passed it to Mike. It read: "Directly this is over, nip upstairs as quickly as you can."

      Mike followed the advice; they were first out of the room. When they had been in the study a few moments, Jellicoe knocked at the door. "Lucky you two cut away so quick," he said. "They were going to try and get you into the senior day room and scrag you there."

      "This," said Psmith, leaning against the mantelpiece, "is exciting, but it can't go on. We have got for our sins to be in this place for a whole term, and if we are going to do the Hunted Fawn business all the time, life in the true sense of the word will become an impossibility. My nerves are so delicately attuned that the strain would simply reduce them to hash. We are not prepared to carry on a long campaign--the thing must be settled at once."

      "Shall we go down to the senior day room, and have it out?" said Mike.

      "No, we will play the fixture on our own ground. I think we may take it as tolerably certain that Comrade Spiller and his hired ruffians will try to corner us in the dormitory tonight. Well, of course, we could fake up some sort of barricade for the door, but then we should have all the trouble over again tomorrow and the day after that. Personally I don't propose to be chivied about indefinitely like this, so I propose that we let them come into the dormitory, and see what happens. Is this meeting with me?"

      "I think that's sound," said Mike. "We needn't drag Jellicoe into it."

      "As a matter of fact--if you don't mind ..." began that man of peace.

      "Quite right," said Psmith; "this is not Comrade Jellicoe's scene at all; he has got to spend the term in the senior day room, whereas we have our little wooden _chlet_ to retire to in times of stress. Comrade Jellicoe must stand out of the game altogether. We shall be glad of his moral support, but otherwise, _ne pas_. And now, as there won't be anything doing till bedtime, I think I'll collar this table and write home and tell my people that all is well with their Rupert."

      6

      UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS

      Jellicoe, that human encyclopedia, consulted on the probable movements of the enemy, deposed that Spiller, retiring at ten, would make for Dormitory One in the same passage, where Robinson also had a bed. The rest of the opposing forces were distributed among other and more distant rooms. It was probable, therefore, that Dormitory One would be the rendezvous. As to the time when an attack might be expected, it was unlikely that it would occur before half past eleven. Mr. Outwood went the round of the dormitories at eleven.

      "And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business be conducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let ourselves go a bit here and there?"

      "I shouldn't think old Outwood's likely to hear you--he sleeps miles away on the other side of the house. He never hears anything. We often rag half the night and nothing happens."

      "This appears to be a thoroughly nice, well-conducted establishment. What would my mother say if she could see her Rupert in the midst of these reckless youths!"

      "All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in and stopping the show before it's half started."

      "Comrade Jackson's berserk blood is up--I can hear it sizzling. I quite agree these things are all very disturbing and painful, but it's as well to do them thoroughly when one's once in for them. Is there nobody else who might interfere with our gambols?"

      "Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't."

      "Who is Barnes?"

СКАЧАТЬ