The Psmith Omnibus. P. G. Wodehouse

kindly on the shoulder, "has sprung up between Jackson, Jellicoe and myself."

      "You make friends easily, Smith. I like to see it--I like to see it."

      "And we can have the room, sir?"

      "Certainly--certainly! Tell the matron as you go down."

      "And now," said Psmith, as they returned to the study, "we may say that we are in a fairly winning position. A vote of thanks to Comrade Jellicoe for his valuable assistance."

      "You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe.

      The handle began to revolve again.

      "That door," said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into one's leisure cruelly."

      This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you to come down," he said.

      Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass.

      "Who?"

      "The senior day room chaps."

      "Spiller?"

      "Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps."

      "They want us to speak to them?"

      "They told me to come up and tell you to come down."

      "Go and give Comrade Spiller our compliments and say that we can't come down, but shall be delighted to see him up here. Things," he said, as the messenger departed, "are beginning to move. Better leave the door open, I think; it will save trouble. Ah, come in, Comrade Spiller, what can we do for you?"

      Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding in the doorway.

      "Look here," said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or not?"

      "After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest a black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller."

      "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.