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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:46 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:46 -0700 |
| commit | e92f540d03c6fa2734875d0d11599611a16c582a (patch) | |
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diff --git a/old/10586-h/10586-h.htm b/old/10586-h/10586-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f59e3c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10586-h/10586-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9921 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Mike and Psmith, by P.G. Wodehouse + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10586 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MIKE AND PSMITH + </h1> + <h2> + By P.G. Wodehouse + </h2> + <h3> + 1909 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + CONTENTS + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> 1 </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> 2 </a> + </td> + <td> + SEDLEIGH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> 3 </a> + </td> + <td> + PSMITH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> 4 </a> + </td> + <td> + STAKING OUT A CLAIM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> 5 </a> + </td> + <td> + GUERRILLA WARFARE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> 6 </a> + </td> + <td> + UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> 7 </a> + </td> + <td> + ADAIR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> 8 </a> + </td> + <td> + MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 9 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> 10 </a> + </td> + <td> + ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> 11 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> 12 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOR OF JELLICOE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> 13 </a> + </td> + <td> + JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK LIST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> 14 </a> + </td> + <td> + MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> 15 </a> + </td> + <td> + ... AND FULFILLS IT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> 16 </a> + </td> + <td> + PURSUIT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> 17 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> 18 </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> 19 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SLEUTH-HOUND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> 20 </a> + </td> + <td> + A CHECK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> 21 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> 22 </a> + </td> + <td> + MAINLY ABOUT SHOES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> 23 </a> + </td> + <td> + ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> 24 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE ADAIR METHOD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> 25 </a> + </td> + <td> + ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> 26 </a> + </td> + <td> + CLEARING THE AIR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> 27 </a> + </td> + <td> + IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> 28 </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. DOWNING MOVES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> 29 </a> + </td> + <td> + THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> 30 </a> + </td> + <td> + SEDLEIGH V. WRYKYN + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In Evelyn Waugh's book <i>Decline and Fall</i> his hero, applying for a + post as a schoolmaster, is told by the agent, "We class schools in four + grades—leading school, first-rate school, good school, and school." + Sedleigh in Mike and Psmith would, I suppose, come into the last-named + class, though not quite as low in it as Mr. Waugh's Llanabba. It is one of + those small English schools with aspirations one day to be able to put the + word "public" before their name and to have their headmaster qualified to + attend the annual Headmaster's Conference. All it needs is a few more + Adairs to get things going. And there is this to be noted, that even at a + "school" one gets an excellent education. Its only drawback is that it + does not play the leading schools or the first-rate schools or even the + good schools at cricket. But to Mike, fresh from Wrykyn (a "first-rate + school") and Psmith, coming from Eton (a "leading school") Sedleigh + naturally seemed something of a comedown. It took Mike some time to adjust + himself to it, though Psmith, the philosopher, accepted the change of + conditions with his customary equanimity. + </p> + <p> + This was the first appearance of Psmith. He came into two other books, <i>Psmith + in the City</i> and <i>Psmith, Journalist</i>, before becoming happily + married in <i>Leave It to Psmith</i>, but I have always thought that he + was most at home in this story of English school life. To give full play + to his bland clashings with Authority he needs to have authority to clash + with, and there is none more absolute than that of the masters at an + English school. + </p> + <p> + Psmith has the distinction of being the only one of my numerous characters + to be drawn from a living model. A cousin of mine was at Eton with the son + of D'Oyly Carte, the man who produced the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, + and one night he told me about this peculiar schoolboy who dressed + fastidiously and wore a monocle and who, when one of the masters inquired + after his health, replied "Sir, I grow thinnah and thinnah." It was all + the information I required in order to start building him in a star part. + </p> + <p> + If anyone is curious as to what became of Mike and Psmith in later life, I + can supply the facts. Mike, always devoted to country life, ran a + prosperous farm. Psmith, inevitably perhaps, became an equally prosperous + counselor at the bar like Perry Mason, specializing, like Perry, in + appearing for the defense. + </p> + <p> + I must apologize, as I did in the preface to <i>Mike at Wrykyn,</i> for + all the cricket in this book. It was unavoidable. There is, however, not + quite so much of it this time. + </p> + <p> + P.G. Wodehouse. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 1 — MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + </h2> + <p> + If Mike had been in time for breakfast that fatal Easter morning he might + have gathered from the expression on his father's face, as Mr. Jackson + opened the envelope containing his school report and read the contents, + that the document in question was not exactly a paean of praise from + beginning to end. But he was late, as usual. Mike always was late for + breakfast in the holidays. + </p> + <p> + When he came down on this particular morning, the meal was nearly over. + Mr. Jackson had disappeared, taking his correspondence with him; Mrs. + Jackson had gone into the kitchen, and when Mike appeared the thing had + resolved itself into a mere vulgar brawl between Phyllis and Ella for the + jam, while Marjory, recently affecting a grown-up air, looked on in a + detached sort of way, as if these juvenile gambols distressed her. + </p> + <p> + "Hello, Mike," she said, jumping up as he entered, "here you are—I've + been keeping everything hot for you." + </p> + <p> + "Have you? Thanks awfully. I say ..." His eye wandered in mild surprise + round the table. "I'm a bit late." + </p> + <p> + Marjory was bustling about, fetching and carrying for Mike, as she always + did. She had adopted him at an early age, and did the thing thoroughly. + She was fond of her other brothers, especially when they made centuries in + first-class cricket, but Mike was her favorite. She would field out in the + deep as a natural thing when Mike was batting at the net in the paddock, + though for the others, even for Joe, who had played in all five Test + Matches in the previous summer, she would do it only as a favor. + </p> + <p> + Phyllis and Ella finished their dispute and went out. Marjory sat on the + table and watched Mike eat. + </p> + <p> + "Your report came this morning, Mike," she said. + </p> + <p> + The kidneys failed to retain Mike's undivided attention. He looked up + interested. "What did it say?" + </p> + <p> + "I didn't see—I only caught sight of the Wrykyn crest on the + envelope. Father didn't say anything." + </p> + <p> + Mike seemed concerned. "I say, that looks rather rotten! I wonder if it + was awfully bad. It's the first I've had from Appleby." + </p> + <p> + "It can't be any worse than the horrid ones Mr. Blake used to write when + you were in his form." + </p> + <p> + "No, that's a comfort," said Mike philosophically. "Think there's any more + tea in that pot?" + </p> + <p> + "I call it a shame," said Marjory; "they ought to be jolly glad to have + you at Wrykyn just for cricket, instead of writing beastly reports that + make father angry and don't do any good to anybody." + </p> + <p> + "Last Christmas he said he'd take me away if I got another one." + </p> + <p> + "He didn't mean it really, I <i>know</i> he didn't! He couldn't! You're + the best bat Wrykyn's ever had." + </p> + <p> + "What ho!" interpolated Mike. + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i>. Everybody says you are. Why, you got your first the very + first term you were there—even Joe didn't do anything nearly so good + as that. Saunders says you're simply bound to play for England in another + year or two." + </p> + <p> + "Saunders is a jolly good chap. He bowled me a half volley on the off the + first ball I had in a school match. By the way, I wonder if he's out at + the net now. Let's go and see." + </p> + <p> + Saunders the professional was setting up the net when they arrived. Mike + put on his pads and went to the wicket, while Marjory and the dogs retired + as usual to the far hedge to retrieve. + </p> + <p> + She was kept busy. Saunders was a good sound bowler of the M.C.C. minor + match type, and there had been a time when he had worried Mike + considerably, but Mike had been in the Wrykyn team for three seasons now, + and each season he had advanced tremendously in his batting. He had filled + out in three years. He had always had the style, and now he had the + strength as well, Saunder's bowling on a true wicket seemed simple to him. + It was early in the Easter holidays, but already he was beginning to find + his form. Saunders, who looked on Mike as his own special invention, was + delighted. + </p> + <p> + "If you don't be worried by being too anxious now that you're captain, + Master Mike," he said, "you'll make a century every match next term." + </p> + <p> + "I wish I wasn't; it's a beastly responsibility." + </p> + <p> + Henfrey, the Wrykyn cricket captain of the previous season, was not + returning next term, and Mike was to reign in his stead. He liked the + prospect, but it certainly carried with it a rather awe-inspiring + responsibility. At night sometimes he would lie awake, appalled by the + fear of losing his form, or making a hash of things by choosing the wrong + men to play for the school and leaving the right men out. It is no light + thing to captain a public school at cricket. + </p> + <p> + As he was walking toward the house, Phyllis met him. "Oh, I've been + hunting for you, Mike; Father wants you." + </p> + <p> + "What for?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know." + </p> + <p> + "Where?" + </p> + <p> + "He's in the study. He seems ..." added Phyllis, throwing in the + information by a way of a makeweight, "in a beastly temper." + </p> + <p> + Mike's jaw fell slightly. "I hope the dickens it's nothing to do with that + bally report," was his muttered exclamation. + </p> + <p> + Mike's dealings with his father were as a rule of a most pleasant nature. + Mr. Jackson was an understanding sort of man, who treated his sons as + companions. From time to time, however, breezes were apt to ruffle the + placid sea of good fellowship. Mike's end-of-term report was an unfailing + wind raiser; indeed, on the arrival of Mr. Blake's sarcastic resume of + Mike's shortcomings at the end of the previous term, there had been + something not unlike a typhoon. It was on this occasion that Mr. Jackson + had solemnly declared his intention of removing Mike from Wrykyn unless + the critics became more flattering; and Mr. Jackson was a man of his word. + </p> + <p> + It was with a certain amount of apprehension, therefore, that Jackson + entered the study. + </p> + <p> + "Come in, Mike," said his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; "I want + to speak to you." + </p> + <p> + Mike, skilled in omens, scented a row in the offing. Only in moments of + emotion was Mr. Jackson in the habit of booting the basket. + </p> + <p> + There followed an awkward silence, which Mike broke by remarking that he + had carted a half volley from Saunders over the on-side hedge that + morning. + </p> + <p> + "It was just a bit short and off the leg stump, so I stepped out—may + I bag the paper knife for a jiffy? I'll just show—" + </p> + <p> + "Never mind about cricket now," said Mr. Jackson; "I want you to listen to + this report." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, is that my report, Father?" said Mike, with a sort of sickly + interest, much as a dog about to be washed might evince in his tub. + </p> + <p> + "It is," replied Mr. Jackson in measured tones, "your report; what is + more, it is without exception the worst report you have ever had." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I say!" groaned the record-breaker. + </p> + <p> + "'His conduct,'" quoted Mr. Jackson, "'has been unsatisfactory in the + extreme, both in and out of school.'" + </p> + <p> + "It wasn't anything really. I only happened—" + </p> + <p> + Remembering suddenly that what he had happened to do was to drop a + cannonball (the school weight) on the form-room floor, not once, but on + several occasions, he paused. + </p> + <p> + "'French bad; conduct disgraceful—'" + </p> + <p> + "Everybody rags in French." + </p> + <p> + "'Mathematics bad. Inattentive and idle.'" + </p> + <p> + "Nobody does much work in Math." + </p> + <p> + "'Latin poor. Greek, very poor.'" + </p> + <p> + "We were doing Thucydides, Book Two, last term—all speeches and + doubtful readings, and cruxes and things—beastly hard! Everybody + says so." + </p> + <p> + "Here are Mr. Appleby's remarks: 'The boy has genuine ability, which he + declines to use in the smallest degree.'" + </p> + <p> + Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation. + </p> + <p> + "'An abnormal proficiency at games has apparently destroyed all desire in + him to realize the more serious issues of life.' There is more to the same + effect." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Appleby was a master with very definite ideas as to what constituted a + public-school master's duties. As a man he was distinctly pro-Mike. He + understood cricket, and some of Mike's strokes on the off gave him thrills + of pure aesthetic joy; but as a master he always made it his habit to + regard the manners and customs of the boys in his form with an unbiased + eye, and to an unbiased eye Mike in a form room was about as near the + extreme edge as a boy could be, and Mr. Appleby said as much in a clear + firm hand. + </p> + <p> + "You remember what I said to you about your report at Christmas, Mike?" + said Mr. Jackson, folding the lethal document and replacing it in its + envelope. + </p> + <p> + Mike said nothing; there was a sinking feeling in his interior. + </p> + <p> + "I shall abide by what I said." + </p> + <p> + Mike's heart thumped. + </p> + <p> + "You will not go back to Wrykyn next term." + </p> + <p> + Somewhere in the world the sun was shining, birds were twittering; + somewhere in the world lambkins frisked and peasants sang blithely at + their toil (flat, perhaps, but still blithely), but to Mike at that moment + the sky was black, and an icy wind blew over the face of the earth. + </p> + <p> + The tragedy had happened, and there was an end of it. He made no attempt + to appeal against the sentence. He knew it would be useless, his father, + when he made up his mind, having all the unbending tenacity of the + normally easygoing man. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jackson was sorry for Mike. He understood him, and for that reason he + said very little now. + </p> + <p> + "I am sending you to Sedleigh," was his next remark. + </p> + <p> + Sedleigh! Mike sat up with a jerk. He knew Sedleigh by name—one of + those schools with about a hundred boys which you never hear of except + when they send up their gym team to Aldershot, or their Eight to Bisley. + Mike's outlook on life was that of a cricketer, pure and simple. What had + Sedleigh ever done? What were they ever likely to do? Whom did they play? + What Old Sedleighan had ever done anything at cricket? Perhaps they didn't + even <i>play</i> cricket! + </p> + <p> + "But it's an awful hole," he said blankly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jackson could read Mike's mind like a book. Mike's point of view was + plain to him. He did not approve of it, but he knew that in Mike's place + and at Mike's age he would have felt the same. He spoke dryly to hide his + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "It is not a large school," he said, "and I don't suppose it could play + Wrykyn at cricket, but it has one merit—boys work there. Young + Barlitt won a Balliol scholarship from Sedleigh last year." Barlitt was + the vicar's son, a silent, spectacled youth who did not enter very largely + into Mike's world. They had met occasionally at tennis parties, but not + much conversation had ensued. Barlitt's mind was massive, but his topics + of conversation were not Mike's. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Barlitt speaks very highly of Sedleigh," added Mr. Jackson. + </p> + <p> + Mike said nothing, which was a good deal better than saying what he would + have liked to have said. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2 — SEDLEIGH + </h2> + <p> + The train, which had been stopping everywhere for the last half hour, + pulled up again, and Mike, seeing the name of the station, got up, opened + the door, and hurled a bag out on to the platform in an emphatic and + vindictive manner. Then he got out himself and looked about him. + </p> + <p> + "For the school, sir?" inquired the solitary porter, bustling up, as if he + hoped by sheer energy to deceive the traveler into thinking that Sedleigh + station was staffed by a great army of porters. + </p> + <p> + Mike nodded. A somber nod. The nod Napoleon might have given if somebody + had met him in 1812, and said, "So you're back from Moscow, eh?" Mike was + feeling thoroughly jaundiced. The future seemed wholly gloomy. And, so far + from attempting to make the best of things, he had set himself + deliberately to look on the dark side. He thought, for instance, that he + had never seen a more repulsive porter, or one more obviously incompetent + than the man who had attached himself with a firm grasp to the handle of + the bag as he strode off in the direction of the luggage van. He disliked + his voice, his appearance, and the color of his hair. Also the boots he + wore. He hated the station, and the man who took his ticket. + </p> + <p> + "Young gents at the school, sir," said the porter, perceiving from Mike's + <i>distrait</i> air that the boy was a stranger to the place, "goes up in + the bus mostly. It's waiting here, sir. Hi, George!" + </p> + <p> + "I'll walk, thanks," said Mike frigidly. + </p> + <p> + "It's a goodish step, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Here you are." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, sir. I'll send up your luggage by the bus, sir. Which 'ouse + was it you was going to?" + </p> + <p> + "Outwood's." + </p> + <p> + "Right, sir. It's straight on up this road to the school. You can't miss + it, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Worse luck," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + He walked off up the road, sorrier for himself than ever. It was such + absolutely rotten luck. About now, instead of being on his way to a place + where they probably ran a Halma team instead of a cricket eleven, and + played hunt-the-slipper in winter, he would be on the point of arriving at + Wrykyn. And as captain of cricket, at that. Which was the bitter part of + it. He had never been in command. For the last two seasons he had been the + star man, going in first, and heading the averages easily at the end of + the season; and the three captains under whom he had played during his + career as a Wrykynian, Burgess, Enderby, and Henfrey, had always been + sportsmen to him. But it was not the same thing. He had meant to do such a + lot for Wrykyn cricket this term. He had had an entirely new system of + coaching in his mind. Now it might never be used. He had handed it on in a + letter to Strachan, who would be captain in his place; but probably + Strachan would have some scheme of his own. There is nobody who could not + edit a paper in the ideal way; and there is nobody who has not a theory of + his own about cricket coaching at school. + </p> + <p> + Wrykyn, too, would be weak this year, now that he was no longer there. + Strachan was a good, free bat on his day, and, if he survived a few overs, + might make a century in an hour, but he was not to be depended upon. There + was no doubt that Mike's sudden withdrawal meant that Wrykyn would have a + bad time that season. And it had been such a wretched athletic year for + the school. The football fifteen had been hopeless, and had lost both the + Ripton matches, the return by over sixty points. Sheen's victory in the + light weights at Aldershot had been their one success. And now, on top of + all this, the captain of cricket was removed during the Easter holidays. + Mike's heart bled for Wrykyn, and he found himself loathing Sedleigh and + all its works with a great loathing. + </p> + <p> + The only thing he could find in its favor was the fact that it was set in + a very pretty country. Of a different type from the Wrykyn country, but + almost as good. For three miles Mike made his way through woods and past + fields. Once he crossed a river. It was soon after this that he caught + sight, from the top of a hill, of a group of buildings that wore an + unmistakably schoollike look. + </p> + <p> + This must be Sedleigh. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes' walk brought him to the school gates, and a baker's boy + directed him to Mr. Outwood's. + </p> + <p> + There were three houses in a row, separated from the school buildings by a + cricket field. Outwood's was the middle one of these. + </p> + <p> + Mike went to the front door and knocked. At Wrykyn he had always charged + in at the beginning of term at the boys' entrance, but this formal + reporting of himself at Sedleigh suited his mood. + </p> + <p> + He inquired for Mr. Outwood, and was shown into a room lined with books. + Presently the door opened, and the housemaster appeared. + </p> + <p> + There was something pleasant and homely about Mr. Outwood. In appearance + he reminded Mike of Smee in <i>Peter Pan</i>. He had the same eyebrows and + pince-nez and the same motherly look. + </p> + <p> + "Jackson?" he said mildly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "I am very glad to see you, very glad indeed. Perhaps you would like a cup + of tea after your journey. I think you might like a cup of tea. You come + from Crofton, in Shropshire, I understand, Jackson, near Brindleford? It + is a part of the country which I have always wished to visit. I dare say + you have frequently seen the Cluniac Priory of St. Ambrose at + Brindleford?" + </p> + <p> + Mike, who would not have recognized a Cluniac Priory if you had handed him + one on a tray, said he had not. + </p> + <p> + "Dear me! You have missed an opportunity which I should have been glad to + have. I am preparing a book on Ruined Abbeys and Priories of England, and + it has always been my wish to see the Cluniac Priory of St. Ambrose. A + deeply interesting relic of the sixteenth century. Bishop Geoffrey, + 1133-40—" + </p> + <p> + "Shall I go across to the boys' part, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "What? Yes. Oh, yes. Quite so. And perhaps you would like a cup of tea + after your journey? No? Quite so. Quite so. You should make a point of + visiting the remains of the Cluniac Priory in the summer holidays, + Jackson. You will find the matron in her room. In many respects it is + unique. The northern altar is in a state of really wonderful preservation. + It consists of a solid block of masonry five feet long and two and a half + wide, with chamfered plinth, standing quite free from the apse wall. It + will well repay a visit. Good-bye for the present, Jackson, good-bye." + </p> + <p> + Mike wandered across to the other side of the house, his gloom visibly + deepened. All alone in a strange school, where they probably played + hopscotch, with a housemaster who offered one cups of tea after one's + journey and talked about chamfered plinths and apses. It was a little + hard. + </p> + <p> + He strayed about, finding his bearings, and finally came to a room which + he took to be the equivalent of the senior day room at a Wrykyn house. + Everywhere else he had found nothing but emptiness. Evidently he had come + by an earlier train than was usual. But this room was occupied. + </p> + <p> + A very long, thin youth, with a solemn face and immaculate clothes, was + leaning against the mantelpiece. As Mike entered, he fumbled in his top + left waistcoat pocket, produced an eyeglass attached to a cord, and fixed + it in his right eye. With the help of this aid to vision he inspected Mike + in silence for a while, then, having flicked an invisible speck of dust + from the left sleeve of his coat, he spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Hello," he said. + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a tired voice. + </p> + <p> + "Hello," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Take a seat," said the immaculate one. "If you don't mind dirtying your + bags, that's to say. Personally, I don't see any prospect of ever sitting + down in this place. It looks to me as if they meant to use these chairs as + mustard-and-cress beds. A Nursery Garden in the Home. That sort of idea. + My name," he added pensively, "is Smith. What's yours?" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3 — PSMITH + </h2> + <p> + "Jackson," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led Astray + and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?" + </p> + <p> + "The last, for choice," said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so I don't + know." + </p> + <p> + "The boy—what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes! Why, are you new?" + </p> + <p> + "Do I look as if I belonged here? I'm the latest import. Sit down on + yonder settee, and I will tell you the painful story of my life. By the + way, before I start, there's just one thing. If you ever have occasion to + write to me, would you mind sticking a P at the beginning of my name? + P-s-m-i-t-h. See? There are too many Smiths, and I don't care for Smythe. + My father's content to worry along in the old-fashioned way, but I've + decided to strike out a fresh line. I shall found a new dynasty. The + resolve came to me unexpectedly this morning. I jotted it down on the back + of an envelope. In conversation you may address me as Rupert (though I + hope you won't), or simply Smith, the <i>P</i> not being sounded. Compare + the name Zbysco, in which the Z is given a similar miss-in-balk. See?" + </p> + <p> + Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked him with a certain stately old world + courtesy. + </p> + <p> + "Let us start at the beginning," he resumed. "My infancy. When I was but a + babe, my eldest sister was bribed with a shilling an hour by my nurse to + keep an eye on me, and see that I did not raise Cain. At the end of the + first day she struck for one-and-six, and got it. We now pass to my + boyhood. At an early age, I was sent to Eton, everybody predicting a + bright career for me. But," said Psmith solemnly, fixing an owl-like gaze + on Mike through the eyeglass, "it was not to be." + </p> + <p> + "No?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "No. I was superannuated last term." + </p> + <p> + "Bad luck." + </p> + <p> + "For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh gains." + </p> + <p> + "But why Sedleigh, of all places?" + </p> + <p> + "This is the most painful part of my narrative. It seems that a certain + scug in the next village to ours happened last year to collar a Balliol—" + </p> + <p> + "Not Barlitt!" exclaimed Mike. + </p> + <p> + "That was the man. The son of the vicar. The vicar told the curate, who + told our curate, who told our vicar, who told my father, who sent me off + here to get a Balliol too. Do <i>you</i> know Barlitt?" + </p> + <p> + "His father's vicar of our village. It was because his son got a Balliol + that I was sent here." + </p> + <p> + "Do you come from Crofton?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "I've lived at Lower Benford all my life. We are practically long-lost + brothers. Cheer a little, will you?" + </p> + <p> + Mike felt as Robinson Crusoe felt when he met Friday. Here was a fellow + human being in this desert place. He could almost have embraced Psmith. + The very sound of the name Lower Benford was heartening. His dislike for + his new school was not diminished, but now he felt that life there might + at least be tolerable. + </p> + <p> + "Where were you before you came here?" asked Psmith. "You have heard my + painful story. Now tell me yours." + </p> + <p> + "Wrykyn. My father took me away because I got such a lot of bad reports." + </p> + <p> + "My reports from Eton were simply scurrilous. There's a libel action in + every sentence. How do you like this place, from what you've seen of it?" + </p> + <p> + "Rotten." + </p> + <p> + "I am with you, Comrade Jackson. You won't mind my calling you Comrade, + will you? I've just become a socialist. It's a great scheme. You ought to + be one. You work for the equal distribution of property, and start by + collaring all you can and sitting on it. We must stick together. We are + companions in misfortune. Lost lambs. Sheep that have gone astray. + Divided, we fall, together we may worry through. Have you seen Professor + Radium yet? I should say Mr. Outwood. What do you think of him?" + </p> + <p> + "He doesn't seem a bad sort of chap. Bit off his nut. Jawed about apses + and things." + </p> + <p> + "And thereby," said Psmith, "hangs a tale. I've been making inquiries of a + stout sportsman in a sort of Salvation Army uniform, whom I met in the + grounds—he's the school sergeant or something, quite a solid man—and + I hear that Comrade Outwood's an archaeological cove. Goes about the + country beating up old ruins and fossils and things. There's an + Archaeological Society in the school, run by him. It goes out on + half-holidays, prowling about, and is allowed to break bounds and + generally steep itself to the eyebrows in reckless devilry. And, mark you, + laddie, if you belong to the Archaeological Society you get off cricket. + To get off cricket," said Psmith, dusting his right trouser leg, "was the + dream of my youth and the aspiration of my riper years. A noble game, but + a bit too thick for me. At Eton I used to have to field out at the nets + till the soles of my boots wore through. I suppose you are a blood at the + game? Play for the school against Loamshire, and so on." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not going to play here, at any rate," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + He had made up his mind on this point in the train. There is a certain + fascination about making the very worst of a bad job. Achilles knew his + business when he sat in his tent. The determination not to play cricket + for Sedleigh as he could not play for Wrykyn gave Mike a sort of pleasure. + To stand by with folded arms and a somber frown, as it were, was one way + of treating the situation, and one not without its meed of comfort. + </p> + <p> + Psmith approved the resolve. + </p> + <p> + "Stout fellow," he said. "'Tis well. You and I, hand in hand, will search + the countryside for ruined abbeys. We will snare the elusive fossil + together. Above all, we will go out of bounds. We shall thus improve our + minds, and have a jolly good time as well. I shouldn't wonder if one + mightn't borrow a gun from some friendly native, and do a bit of rabbit + shooting here and there. From what I saw of Comrade Outwood during our + brief interview, I shouldn't think he was one of the lynx-eyed contingent. + With tact we ought to be able to slip away from the merry throng of fossil + chasers, and do a bit on our own account." + </p> + <p> + "Good idea," said Mike. "We will. A chap at Wrykyn, called Wyatt, used to + break out at night and shoot at cats with an air pistol." + </p> + <p> + "It would take a lot to make me do that. I am all against anything that + interferes with my sleep. But rabbits in the daytime is a scheme. We'll + nose about for a gun at the earliest opp. Meanwhile we'd better go up to + Comrade Outwood, and get our names shoved down for the Society." + </p> + <p> + "I vote we get some tea first somewhere." + </p> + <p> + "Then let's beat up a study. I suppose they have studies here. Let's go + and look." + </p> + <p> + They went upstairs. On the first floor there was a passage with doors on + either side. Psmith opened the first of these. + </p> + <p> + "This'll do us well," he said. + </p> + <p> + It was a biggish room, looking out over the school grounds. There were a + couple of deal tables, two empty bookcases, and a looking glass, hung on a + nail. + </p> + <p> + "Might have been made for us," said Psmith approvingly. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose it belongs to some rotter." + </p> + <p> + "Not now." + </p> + <p> + "You aren't going to collar it!" + </p> + <p> + "That," said Psmith, looking at himself earnestly in the mirror, and + straightening his tie, "is the exact program. We must stake out our + claims. This is practical socialism." + </p> + <p> + "But the real owner's bound to turn up some time or other." + </p> + <p> + "His misfortune, not ours. You can't expect two masterminds like us to pig + it in that room downstairs. There are moments when one wants to be alone. + It is imperative that we have a place to retire to after a fatiguing day. + And now, if you want to be really useful, come and help me fetch up my box + from downstairs. It's got a gas ring and various things in it." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4 — STAKING OUT A CLAIM + </h2> + <p> + Psmith, in the matter of decorating a study and preparing tea in it, was + rather a critic than an executant. He was full of ideas, but he preferred + to allow Mike to carry them out. It was he who suggested that the wooden + bar which ran across the window was unnecessary, but it was Mike who + wrenched it from its place. Similarly, it was Mike who abstracted the key + from the door of the next study, though the idea was Psmith's. + </p> + <p> + "Privacy," said Psmith, as he watched Mike light the gas ring, "is what we + chiefly need in this age of publicity. If you leave a study door unlocked + in these strenuous times, the first thing you know is, somebody comes + right in, sits down, and begins to talk about himself. I think with a + little care we ought to be able to make this room quite decently + comfortable. That putrid calendar must come down, though. Do you think you + could make a long arm, and haul it off the parent tintack? Thanks. We make + progress. We make progress." + </p> + <p> + "We shall jolly well make it out of the window," said Mike, spooning up + tea from a paperbag with a postcard, "if a sort of young Hackenschmidt + turns up and claims the study. What are you going to do about it?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't let us worry about it. I have a presentiment that he will be an + insignificant-looking little weed. How are you getting on with the evening + meal?" + </p> + <p> + "Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give something to + be at Wrykyn." + </p> + <p> + "These school reports," said Psmith sympathetically, "are the very + dickens. Many a bright young lad has been soured by them. Hello, what's + this, I wonder." + </p> + <p> + A heavy body had plunged against the door, evidently without a suspicion + that there would be any resistance. A rattling of the handle followed, and + a voice outside said, "Dash the door!" + </p> + <p> + "Hackenschmidt!" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "The weed," said Psmith. "You couldn't make a long arm, could you, and + turn the key? We had better give this merchant audience. Remind me later + to go on with my remarks on school reports. I had several bright things to + say on the subject." + </p> + <p> + Mike unlocked the door, and flung it open. Framed in the entrance was a + smallish, freckled boy, wearing a pork-pie hat and carrying a bag. On his + face was an expression of mingled wrath and astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Psmith rose courteously from his chair, and moved forward with slow + stateliness to do the honors. + </p> + <p> + "What the dickens," inquired the newcomer, "are you doing here?" + </p> + <p> + "We were having a little tea," said Psmith, "to restore our tissues after + our journey. Come in and join us. We keep open house, we Psmiths. Let me + introduce you to Comrade Jackson. A stout fellow. Homely in appearance, + perhaps, but one of us. I am Psmith. Your own name will doubtless come up + in the course of general chitchat over the teacups." + </p> + <p> + "My name's Spiller, and this is my study." + </p> + <p> + Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, put up his eyeglass, and harangued + Spiller in a philosophical vein. + </p> + <p> + "Of all sad words of tongue or pen," said he, "the saddest are these: 'It + might have been.' Too late! That is the bitter cry. If you had torn + yourself from the bosom of the Spiller family by an earlier train, all + might have been well. But no. Your father held your hand and said huskily, + 'Edwin, don't leave us!' Your mother clung to you weeping, and said, + 'Edwin, stay!' Your sisters—" + </p> + <p> + "I want to know what—" + </p> + <p> + "Your sisters froze on to your knees like little octopuses (or octopi), + and screamed, 'Don't go, Edwin!' And so," said Psmith, deeply affected by + his recital, "you stayed on till the later train; and, on arrival, you + find strange faces in the familiar room, a people that know not Spiller." + Psmith went to the table, and cheered himself with a sip of tea. Spiller's + sad case had moved him greatly. + </p> + <p> + The victim of Fate seemed in no way consoled. + </p> + <p> + "It's beastly cheek, that's what I call it. Are you new chaps?" + </p> + <p> + "The very latest thing," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it's beastly cheek." + </p> + <p> + Mike's outlook on life was of the solid, practical order. He went straight + to the root of the matter. + </p> + <p> + "What are you going to do about it?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + Spiller evaded the question. + </p> + <p> + "It's beastly cheek," he repeated. "You can't go about the place bagging + studies." + </p> + <p> + "But we do," said Psmith. "In this life, Comrade Spiller, we must be + prepared for every emergency. We must distinguish between the unusual and + the impossible. It is unusual for people to go about the place bagging + studies, so you have rashly ordered your life on the assumption that it is + impossible. Error! Ah, Spiller, Spiller, let this be a lesson to you." + </p> + <p> + "Look here, I tell you what it—" + </p> + <p> + "I was in a car with a man once. I said to him: 'What would happen if you + trod on that pedal thing instead of that other pedal thing?' He said, 'I + couldn't. One's the foot brake, and the other's the accelerator.' 'But + suppose you did?' I said. 'I wouldn't,' he said. 'Now we'll let her rip.' + So he stamped on the accelerator. Only it turned out to be the foot brake + after all, and we stopped dead, and skidded into a ditch. The advice I + give to every young man starting life is: 'Never confuse the unusual and + the impossible.' Take the present case. If you had only realized the + possibility of somebody someday collaring your study, you might have + thought out dozens of sound schemes for dealing with the matter. As it is, + you are unprepared. The thing comes on you as a surprise. The cry goes + round: 'Spiller has been taken unawares. He cannot cope with the + situation.'" + </p> + <p> + "Can't I! I'll—" + </p> + <p> + "What <i>are</i> you going to do about it?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "All I know is, I'm going to have it. It was Simpson's last term, and + Simpson's left, and I'm next on the house list, so, of course, it's my + study." + </p> + <p> + "But what steps," said Psmith, "are you going to take? Spiller, the man of + Logic, we know. But what of Spiller, the Man of Action? How do you intend + to set about it? Force is useless. I was saying to Comrade Jackson before + you came in, that I didn't mind betting you were an insignificant-looking + little weed. And you <i>are</i> an insignificant-looking little weed." + </p> + <p> + "We'll see what Outwood says about it." + </p> + <p> + "Not an unsound scheme. By no means a scaly project. Comrade Jackson and + myself were about to interview him upon another point. We may as well all + go together." + </p> + <p> + The trio made their way to the Presence, Spiller pink and determined, Mike + sullen, Psmith particularly debonair. He hummed lightly as he walked, and + now and then pointed out to Spiller objects of interest by the wayside. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidently the + leading characteristic of his normal manner. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Spiller," he said. "And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see you have + already made friends." + </p> + <p> + "Spiller's, sir," said Psmith, laying a hand patronizingly on the + study-claimer's shoulder—a proceeding violently resented by Spiller—"is + a character one cannot help but respect. His nature expands before one + like some beautiful flower." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, and + gazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. + </p> + <p> + "Er—quite so, Smith, quite so," he said at last. "I like to see boys + in my house friendly toward one another." + </p> + <p> + "There is no vice in Spiller," pursued Psmith earnestly. "His heart is the + heart of a little child." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir," burst out this paragon of all the virtues, "I—" + </p> + <p> + "But it was not entirely with regard to Spiller that I wished to speak to + you, sir, if you were not too busy." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there anything ..." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir—" began Spiller + </p> + <p> + "I understand, sir," said Psmith, "that there is an Archaeological Society + in the school." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood's eyes sparkled behind their pince-nez. It was a + disappointment to him that so few boys seemed to wish to belong to his + chosen band. Cricket and football, games that left him cold, appeared to + be the main interest in their lives. It was but rarely that he could + induce new boys to join. His colleague, Mr. Downing, who presided over the + School Fire Brigade, never had any difficulty in finding support. Boys + came readily at his call. Mr. Outwood pondered wistfully on this at times, + not knowing that the Fire Brigade owed its support to the fact that it + provided its lighthearted members with perfectly unparalleled + opportunities for ragging, while his own band, though small, was, in the + main, earnest. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Smith," he said, "Yes. We have a small Archaeological Society. I—er—in + a measure look after it. Perhaps you would care to become a member?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir—" said Spiller. + </p> + <p> + "One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates me. A grand pursuit, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Undoubtedly, Smith. I am very pleased, very pleased indeed. I will put + down your name at once." + </p> + <p> + "And Jackson's, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Jackson, too!" Mr. Outwood beamed. "I am delighted. Most delighted. This + is capital. This enthusiasm is most capital." + </p> + <p> + "Spiller, sir," said Psmith sadly, "I have been unable to induce to join." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, he is one of our oldest members." + </p> + <p> + "Ah," said Psmith, tolerantly, "that accounts for it." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir—" said Spiller. + </p> + <p> + "One moment, Spiller. We shall have the first outing of the term on + Saturday. We intend to inspect the Roman Camp at Embury Hill, two miles + from the school." + </p> + <p> + "We shall be there, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Capital!" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir—" said Spiller. + </p> + <p> + "One moment, Spiller," said Psmith. "There is just one other matter, if + you could spare the time, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Certainly, Smith. What is that?" + </p> + <p> + "Would there be any objection to Jackson and myself taking Simpson's old + study?" + </p> + <p> + "By all means, Smith. A very good idea." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. It would give us a place where we could work quietly in the + evenings." + </p> + <p> + "Quite so. Quite so." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you very much, sir. We will move our things in." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you very much, sir," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir," shouted Spiller, "aren't I to have it? I'm next on the + list, sir. I come next after Simpson. Can't I have it?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid I have already promised it to Smith, Spiller. You should have + spoken before." + </p> + <p> + "But sir—" + </p> + <p> + Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly. + </p> + <p> + "This tendency to delay, Spiller," he said, "is your besetting fault. + Correct it, Edwin. Fight against it." + </p> + <p> + He turned to Mr. Outwood. + </p> + <p> + "We should, of course, sir, always be glad to see Spiller in our study. He + would always find a cheery welcome waiting there for him. There is no + formality between ourselves and Spiller." + </p> + <p> + "Quite so. An excellent arrangement, Smith. I like this spirit of + comradeship in my house. Then you will be with us on Saturday?" + </p> + <p> + "On Saturday, sir." + </p> + <p> + "All this sort of thing, Spiller," said Psmith, as they closed the door, + "is very, very trying for a man of culture. Look us up in our study one of + these afternoons." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 5 — GUERRILLA WARFARE + </h2> + <p> + "There are few pleasures," said Psmith, as he resumed his favorite + position against the mantelpiece and surveyed the commandeered study with + the pride of a householder, "keener to the reflective mind than sitting + under one's own rooftree. This place would have been wasted on Spiller; he + would not have appreciated it properly." + </p> + <p> + Mike was finishing his tea. "You're a jolly useful chap to have by you in + a crisis, Smith," he said with approval. "We ought to have known each + other before." + </p> + <p> + "The loss was mine," said Psmith courteously. "We will now, with your + permission, face the future for a while. I suppose you realize that we are + now to a certain extent up against it. Spiller's hot Spanish blood is not + going to sit tight and do nothing under a blow like this." + </p> + <p> + "What can he do? Outwood's given us the study." + </p> + <p> + "What would you have done if somebody had bagged your study?" + </p> + <p> + "Made it jolly hot for them!" + </p> + <p> + "So will Comrade Spiller. I take it that he will collect a gang and make + an offensive movement against us directly he can. To all appearances we + are in a fairly tight place. It all depends on how big Comrade Spiller's + gang will be. I don't like rows, but I'm prepared to take on a reasonable + number of assailants in defense of the home." + </p> + <p> + Mike intimated that he was with him on the point. "The difficulty is, + though," he said, "about when we leave this room. I mean, we're all right + while we stick here, but we can't stay all night." + </p> + <p> + "That's just what I was about to point out when you put it with such + admirable clearness. Here we are in a stronghold; they can only get at us + through the door, and we can lock that." + </p> + <p> + "And jam a chair against it." + </p> + <p> + "<i>And</i>, as you rightly remark, jam a chair against it. But what of + the nightfall? What of the time when we retire to our dormitory?" + </p> + <p> + "Or dormitories. I say, if we're in separate rooms we shall be in the + cart." + </p> + <p> + Psmith eyed Mike with approval. "He thinks of everything! You're the man, + Comrade Jackson, to conduct an affair of this kind—such foresight! + such resource! We must see to this at once; if they put us in different + rooms we're done—we shall be destroyed singly in the watches of the + night." + </p> + <p> + "We'd better nip down to the matron right off." + </p> + <p> + "Not the matron—Comrade Outwood is the man. We are as sons to him; + there is nothing he can deny us. I'm afraid we are quite spoiling his + afternoon by these interruptions, but we must rout him out once more." + </p> + <p> + As they got up, the door handle rattled again, and this time there + followed a knocking. + </p> + <p> + "This must be an emissary of Comrade Spiller's," said Psmith. "Let us + parley with the man." + </p> + <p> + Mike unlocked the door. A light-haired youth with a cheerful, rather + vacant face and a receding chin strolled into the room, and stood giggling + with his hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + "I just came up to have a look at you," he explained. + </p> + <p> + "If you move a little to the left," said Psmith, "you will catch the + light-and-shade effects on Jackson's face better." + </p> + <p> + The newcomer giggled with renewed vigor. "Are you the chap with the + eyeglass who jaws all the time?" + </p> + <p> + "I <i>do</i> wear an eyeglass," said Psmith; "as to the rest of the + description—" + </p> + <p> + "My name's Jellicoe." + </p> + <p> + "Mine is Psmith—P-s-m-i-t-h—one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The + object on the skyline is Comrade Jackson." + </p> + <p> + "Old Spiller," giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anything downstairs. + You <i>are</i> chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged his study? He's + making no end of a row about it." + </p> + <p> + "Spiller's fiery nature is a byword," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way. + </p> + <p> + "He's going to get the chaps to turn you out." + </p> + <p> + "As I suspected," sighed Psmith, as one mourning over the frailty of human + nature. "About how many horny-handed assistants should you say that he + would be likely to bring? Will you, for instance, join the glad throng?" + </p> + <p> + "Me? No fear! I think Spiller's an ass." + </p> + <p> + "There's nothing like a common thought for binding people together. <i>I</i> + think Spiller's an ass." + </p> + <p> + "How many <i>will</i> there be, then?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + "He might get about half a dozen, not more, because most of the chaps + don't see why they should sweat themselves just because Spiller's study + has been bagged." + </p> + <p> + "Sturdy common sense," said Psmith approvingly, "seems to be the chief + virtue of the Sedleigh character." + </p> + <p> + "We shall be able to tackle a crowd like that," said Mike. "The only thing + is we must get into the same dormitory." + </p> + <p> + "This is where Comrade Jellicoe's knowledge of the local geography will + come in useful. Do you happen to know of any snug little room, with, say, + about four beds in it? How many dormitories are there?" + </p> + <p> + "Five—there's one with three beds in it, only it belongs to three + chaps." + </p> + <p> + "I believe in the equal distribution of property. We will go to Comrade + Outwood and stake out another claim." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood received them even more beamingly than before. "Yes, Smith?" + he said. + </p> + <p> + "We must apologize for disturbing you, sir—" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all, Smith, not at all! I like the boys in my house to come to me + when they wish for my advice or help." + </p> + <p> + "We were wondering, sir, if you would have any objection to Jackson, + Jellicoe and myself sharing the dormitory with the three beds in it. A + very warm friendship ..." explained Psmith, patting the gurgling Jellicoe + kindly on the shoulder, "has sprung up between Jackson, Jellicoe and + myself." + </p> + <p> + "You make friends easily, Smith. I like to see it—I like to see it." + </p> + <p> + "And we can have the room, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly—certainly! Tell the matron as you go down." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i> a chap!" said Jellicoe. + </p> + <p> + The handle began to revolve again. + </p> + <p> + "That door," said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into + one's leisure cruelly." + </p> + <p> + This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you to + come down," he said. + </p> + <p> + Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + "Who?" + </p> + <p> + "The senior day room chaps." + </p> + <p> + "Spiller?" + </p> + <p> + "Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps." + </p> + <p> + "They want us to speak to them?" + </p> + <p> + "They told me to come up and tell you to come down." + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding in + the doorway. + </p> + <p> + "Look here," said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or not?" + </p> + <p> + "After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest a + black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller." + </p> + <p> + "You'll get it hot, if you don't." + </p> + <p> + "We'll risk it," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere appealed + to him. His was a simple and appreciative mind. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, you chaps," cried Spiller suddenly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + A heavy body crashed against the door. + </p> + <p> + "They'll have it down," said Jellicoe. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Robinson. I say, you <i>are</i> a chap!" + </p> + <p> + "Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, + always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?" + </p> + <p> + Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be heard + in the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Somebody hammered on the door. + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" called Psmith patiently. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if you don't." + </p> + <p> + "Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone." + </p> + <p> + A bell rang in the distance. + </p> + <p> + "Tea," said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now." + </p> + <p> + "They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think," said Mike. + "There's no harm in going out." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "Shall we go down to the senior day room, and have it out?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + "I think that's sound," said Mike. "We needn't drag Jellicoe into it." + </p> + <p> + "As a matter of fact—if you don't mind ..." began that man of peace. + </p> + <p> + "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 <i>châlet</i> 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, <i>ne pas</i>. 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." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 6 — UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business be + conducted in a subdued and <i>sotto voce</i> manner, or may we let + ourselves go a bit here and there?" + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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!" + </p> + <p> + "All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in and + stopping the show before it's half started." + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + "Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't." + </p> + <p> + "Who is Barnes?" + </p> + <p> + "Head of the house—a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; + they rag him; he'll simply sit tight." + </p> + <p> + "Then I think," said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a very + pleasant evening. Shall we be moving?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood paid his visit at eleven, as predicted by Jellicoe, beaming + vaguely into the darkness over a torch, and disappeared again, closing the + door. + </p> + <p> + "How about that door?" said Mike. "Shall we leave it open for them?" + </p> + <p> + "Not so, but far otherwise. If it's shut we shall hear them at it when + they come. Subject to your approval, Comrade Jackson, I have evolved the + following plan of action. I always ask myself on these occasions, 'What + would Napoleon have done?' I think Napoleon would have sat in a chair by + his washhand stand, which is close to the door; he would have posted you + by your washhand stand, and he would have instructed Comrade Jellicoe, + directly he heard the door handle turned, to give his celebrated imitation + of a dormitory breathing heavily in its sleep. He would then—" + </p> + <p> + "I tell you what," said Mike, "How about tying a string at the top of the + steps?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Napoleon would have done that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson, the + man with the big brain!" + </p> + <p> + The floor of the dormitory was below the level of the door. There were + three steps leading down to it. Psmith switched on his torch and they + examined the ground. The leg of a wardrobe and the leg of Jellicoe's bed + made it possible for the string to be fastened in a satisfactory manner + across the lower step. Psmith surveyed the result with approval. + </p> + <p> + "Dashed neat!" he said. "Practically the sunken road which dished the + Cuirassiers at Waterloo. I seem to see Comrade Spiller coming one of the + finest purlers in the world's history." + </p> + <p> + "If they've got a torch—" + </p> + <p> + "They won't have. If they have, stand by and grab it at once; then they'll + charge forward and all will be well. If they have no light, fire into the + brown with a jug of water. Lest we forget, I'll collar Comrade Jellicoe's + jug now and keep it handy. A couple of sheets would also not be amiss—we + will enmesh the enemy!" + </p> + <p> + "Right ho!" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "These humane preparations being concluded," said Psmith, "we will retire + to our posts and wait. Comrade Jellicoe, don't forget to breathe like an + asthmatic sheep when you hear the door opened; they may wait at the top of + the steps, listening." + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i> a lad!" said Jellicoe. + </p> + <p> + Waiting in the dark for something to happen is always a trying experience, + especially if, as on this occasion, silence is essential. 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. + </p> + <p> + There was a creaking sound. + </p> + <p> + It was pitch-dark in the dormitory, but Mike could follow the invaders' + movements as clearly as if it had been broad daylight. They had opened the + door and were listening. Jellicoe's breathing grew more asthmatic; he was + flinging himself into his part with the wholeheartedness of the true + artist. + </p> + <p> + The creak was followed by a sound of whispering, then another creak. The + enemy had advanced to the top step.... Another creak.... The vanguard had + reached the second step.... In another moment— + </p> + <h3> + CRASH! + </h3> + <p> + And at that point the proceedings may be said to have formally opened. + </p> + <p> + A struggling mass bumped against Mike's shins as he rose from his chair; + he emptied his jug onto this mass, and a yell of anguish showed that the + contents had got to the right address. + </p> + <p> + Then a hand grabbed his ankle and he went down, a million sparks dancing + before his eyes as a fist, flying out at a venture, caught him on the + nose. + </p> + <p> + Mike had not been well disposed toward the invaders before, but now he ran + amok, hitting out right and left at random. His right missed, but his left + went home hard on some portion of somebody's anatomy. A kick freed his + ankle and he staggered to his feet. At the same moment a sudden increase + in the general volume of noise spoke eloquently of good work that was + being put in by Psmith. + </p> + <p> + Even at that crisis, Mike could not help feeling that if a row of this + caliber did not draw Mr. Outwood from his bed, he must be an unusual kind + of housemaster. + </p> + <p> + He plunged forward again with outstretched arms, and stumbled and fell + over one of the on-the-floor section of the opposing force. They seized + each other earnestly and rolled across the room till Mike, contriving to + secure his adversary's head, bumped it on the floor with such abandon + that, with a muffled yell, the other let go, and for the second time he + rose. As he did so he was conscious of a curious thudding sound that made + itself heard through the other assorted noises of the battle. + </p> + <p> + All this time the fight had gone on in the blackest darkness, but now a + light shone on the proceedings. Interested occupants of other dormitories, + roused from their slumbers, had come to observe the sport. They had + switched on the light and were crowding in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + By the light of this Mike got a swift view of the theater of war. The + enemy appeared to number five. The warrior whose head Mike had bumped on + the floor was Robinson, who was sitting up feeling his skull in a gingerly + fashion. To Mike's right, almost touching him, was Stone. In the direction + of the door, Psmith, wielding in his right hand the cord of a dressing + gown, was engaging the remaining three with a patient smile. + </p> + <p> + They were clad in pajamas, and appeared to be feeling the dressing-gown + cord acutely. + </p> + <p> + The sudden light dazed both sides momentarily. The defense was the first + to recover, Mike, with a swing, upsetting Stone, and Psmith, having seized + and emptied Jellicoe's jug over Spiller, getting to work again with the + cord in a manner that roused the utmost enthusiasm of the spectators. + </p> + <p> + Agility seemed to be the leading feature of Psmith's tactics. He was + everywhere—on Mike's bed, on his own, on Jellicoe's (drawing a + passionate complaint from that noncombatant, on whose face he + inadvertently trod), on the floor—he ranged the room, sowing + destruction. + </p> + <p> + The enemy were disheartened; they had started with the idea that this was + to be a surprise attack, and it was disconcerting to find the garrison + armed at all points. Gradually they edged to the door, and a final rush + sent them through. + </p> + <p> + "Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was alone + in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + It was a situation which exactly suited his frame of mind; he stood alone + in direct opposition to the community into which Fate had pitchforked him + so abruptly. He liked the feeling; for the first time since his father had + given him his views upon school reports that morning in the Easter + holidays, he felt satisfied with life. He hoped, outnumbered as he was, + that the enemy would come on again and not give the thing up in disgust; + he wanted more. + </p> + <p> + On an occasion like this there is rarely anything approaching concerted + action on the part of the aggressors. When the attack came, it was not a + combined attack; Stone, who was nearest to the door, made a sudden dash + forward, and Mike hit him under the chin. + </p> + <p> + Stone drew back, and there was another interval for rest and reflection. + </p> + <p> + It was interrupted by the reappearance of Psmith, who strolled back along + the passage swinging his dressing-gown cord as if it were some clouded + cane. + </p> + <p> + "Sorry to keep you waiting, Comrade Jackson," he said politely. "Duty + called me elsewhere. With the kindly aid of a guide who knows the lie of + the land, I have been making a short tour of the dormitories. I have + poured divers jugfuls of water over Comrade Spiller's bed, Comrade + Robinson's bed, Comrade Stone's—Spiller, Spiller, these are harsh + words; where you pick them up I can't think—not from me. Well, well, + I suppose there must be an end to the pleasantest of functions. Good + night, good night." + </p> + <p> + The door closed behind Mike and himself. For ten minutes shufflings and + whisperings went on in the corridor, but nobody touched the handle. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and silence reigned. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning there was a notice on the house board. It ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + INDOOR GAMES + + <i>Dormitory raiders are informed that in future neither Mr. Psmith + nor Mr. Jackson will be at home to visitors. This nuisance must now + cease.</i> + + R. PSMITH. + M. JACKSON. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 7 — ADAIR + </h2> + <p> + On the same morning Mike met Adair for the first time. + </p> + <p> + He was going across to school with Psmith and Jellicoe, when a group of + three came out of the gate of the house next door. + </p> + <p> + "That's Adair," said Jellicoe, "in the middle." + </p> + <p> + His voice had assumed a tone almost of awe. + </p> + <p> + "Who's Adair?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Captain of cricket, and lots of other things." + </p> + <p> + Mike could only see the celebrity's back. He had broad shoulders and wiry, + light hair, almost white. He walked well, as if he were used to running. + Altogether a fit-looking sort of man. Even Mike's jaundiced eye saw that. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Adair deserved more than a casual glance. He was that + rare type, the natural leader. Many boys and men, if accident, or the + passage of time, places them in a position where they are expected to + lead, can handle the job without disaster; but that is a very different + thing from being a born leader. Adair was of the sort that comes to the + top by sheer force of character and determination. He was not naturally + clever at work, but he had gone at it with a dogged resolution which had + carried him up the school, and landed him high in the Sixth. As a + cricketer he was almost entirely self-taught. Nature had given him a good + eye, and left the thing at that. Adair's doggedness had triumphed over her + failure to do her work thoroughly. At the cost of more trouble than most + people give to their life work he had made himself into a bowler. He read + the authorities, and watched first-class players, and thought the thing + out on his own account, and he divided the art of bowling into three + sections. First, and most important—pitch. Second on the list—break. + Third—pace. He set himself to acquire pitch. He acquired it. Bowling + at his own pace and without any attempt at break, he could now drop the + ball on an envelope seven times out of ten. + </p> + <p> + Break was a more uncertain quantity. Sometimes he could get it at the + expense of pitch, sometimes at the expense of pace. Some days he could get + all three, and then he was an uncommonly bad man to face on anything but a + plumb wicket. + </p> + <p> + Running he had acquired in a similar manner. He had nothing approaching + style, but he had twice won the mile and half mile at the Sports off + elegant runners, who knew all about stride and the correct timing of the + sprints and all the rest of it. + </p> + <p> + Briefly, he was a worker. He had heart. + </p> + <p> + A boy of Adair's type is always a force in a school. In a big public + school or six or seven hundred, his influence is felt less; but in a small + school like Sedleigh he is like a tidal wave, sweeping all before him. + There were two hundred boys at Sedleigh, and there was not one of them in + all probability who had not, directly or indirectly, been influenced by + Adair. As a small boy his sphere was not large, but the effects of his + work began to be apparent even then. It is human nature to want to get + something which somebody else obviously values very much; and when it was + observed by members of his form that Adair was going to great trouble and + inconvenience to secure a place in the form eleven or fifteen, they + naturally began to think, too, that it was worth being in those teams. The + consequence was that his form always played hard. This made other forms + play hard. And the net result was that, when Adair succeeded to the + captaincy of Rugger and cricket in the same year, Sedleigh, as Mr. + Downing, Adair's housemaster and the nearest approach to a cricket master + that Sedleigh possessed, had a fondness for saying, was a keen school. As + a whole, it both worked and played with energy. + </p> + <p> + All it wanted now was opportunity. + </p> + <p> + This Adair was determined to give it. He had that passionate fondness for + his school which every boy is popularly supposed to have, but which really + is implanted in about one in every thousand. The average public-school boy + <i>likes</i> his school. He hopes it will lick Bedford at Rugger and + Malvern at cricket, but he rather bets it won't. He is sorry to leave, and + he likes going back at the end of the holidays, but as for any passionate, + deep-seated love of the place, he would think it rather bad form than + otherwise. If anybody came up to him, slapped him on the back, and cried, + "Come along, Jenkins, my boy! Play up for the old school, Jenkins! The + dear old school! The old place you love so!" he would feel seriously ill. + </p> + <p> + Adair was the exception. + </p> + <p> + To Adair, Sedleigh was almost a religion. Both his parents were dead; his + guardian, with whom he spent the holidays, was a man with neuralgia at one + end of him and gout at the other; and the only really pleasant times Adair + had had, as far back as he could remember, he owed to Sedleigh. The place + had grown on him, absorbed him. Where Mike, violently transplanted from + Wrykyn, saw only a wretched little hole not to be mentioned in the same + breath with Wrykyn, Adair, dreaming of the future, saw a colossal + establishment, a public school among public schools, a lump of human + radium, shooting out Blues and Balliol Scholars year after year without + ceasing. + </p> + <p> + It would not be so till long after he was gone and forgotten, but he did + not mind that. His devotion to Sedleigh was purely unselfish. He did not + want fame. All he worked for was that the school should grow and grow, + keener and better at games and more prosperous year by year, till it + should take its rank among <i>the</i> schools, and to be an Old Sedleighan + should be a badge passing its owner everywhere. + </p> + <p> + "He's captain of cricket and Rugger," said Jellicoe impressively. "He's in + the shooting eight. He's won the mile and half mile two years running. He + would have boxed at Aldershot last term, only he sprained his wrist. And + he plays fives jolly well!" + </p> + <p> + "Sort of little tin god," said Mike, taking a violent dislike to Adair + from that moment. + </p> + <p> + Mike's actual acquaintance with this all-round man dated from the dinner + hour that day. Mike was walking to the house with Psmith. Psmith was a + little ruffled on account of a slight passage-of-arms he had had with his + form master during morning school. + </p> + <p> + "'There's a P before the Smith,' I said to him. 'Ah, P. Smith, I see,' + replied the goat. 'Not Peasmith,' I replied, exercising wonderful + self-restraint, 'just Psmith.' It took me ten minutes to drive the thing + into the man's head; and when I <i>had</i> driven it in, he sent me out of + the room for looking at him through my eyeglass. Comrade Jackson, I fear + me we have fallen among bad men. I suspect that we are going to be much + persecuted by scoundrels." + </p> + <p> + "Both you chaps play cricket, I suppose?" + </p> + <p> + They turned. It was Adair. Seeing him face to face, Mike was aware of a + pair of very bright blue eyes and a square jaw. In any other place and + mood he would have liked Adair at sight. His prejudice, however, against + all things Sedleighan was too much for him. "I don't," he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + "Haven't you <i>ever</i> played?" + </p> + <p> + "My little sister and I sometimes play with a soft ball at home." + </p> + <p> + Adair looked sharply at him. A temper was evidently one of his numerous + qualities. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," he said. "Well, perhaps you wouldn't mind turning out this afternoon + and seeing what you can do with a hard ball—if you can manage + without your little sister." + </p> + <p> + "I should think the form at this place would be about on a level with + hers. But I don't happen to be playing cricket, as I think I told you." + </p> + <p> + Adair's jaw grew squarer than ever. Mike was wearing a gloomy scowl. + </p> + <p> + Psmith joined suavely in the dialogue. + </p> + <p> + "My dear old comrades," he said, "Don't let us brawl over this matter. + This is a time for the honeyed word, the kindly eye, and the pleasant + smile. Let me explain to Comrade Adair. Speaking for Comrade Jackson and + myself, we should both be delighted to join in the mimic warfare of our + National Game, as you suggest, only the fact is, we happen to be the Young + Archaeologists. We gave in our names last night. When you are being + carried back to the pavilion after your century against Loamshire—do + you play Loamshire?—we shall be grubbing in the hard ground for + ruined abbeys. The old choice between Pleasure and Duty, Comrade Adair. A + Boy's Crossroads." + </p> + <p> + "Then you won't play?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Archaeology," said Psmith, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, "will + brook no divided allegiance from her devotees." + </p> + <p> + Adair turned, and walked on. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had he gone, when another voice hailed them with precisely the + same question. + </p> + <p> + "Both you fellows are going to play cricket, eh?" + </p> + <p> + It was a master. A short, wiry little man with a sharp nose and a general + resemblance, both in manner and appearance, to an excitable bullfinch. + </p> + <p> + "I saw Adair speaking to you. I suppose you will both play. I like every + new boy to begin at once. The more new blood we have, the better. We want + keenness here. We are, above all, a keen school. I want every boy to be + keen." + </p> + <p> + "We are, sir," said Psmith, with fervor. + </p> + <p> + "Excellent." + </p> + <p> + "On archaeology." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing—for it was no less a celebrity—started, as one who + perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad. + </p> + <p> + "Archaeology!" + </p> + <p> + "We gave in our names to Mr. Outwood last night, sir. Archaeology is a + passion with us, sir. When we heard that there was a society here, we went + singing about the house." + </p> + <p> + "I call it an unnatural pursuit for boys," said Mr. Downing vehemently. "I + don't like it. I tell you I don't like it. It is not for me to interfere + with one of my colleagues on the staff, but I tell you frankly that in my + opinion it is an abominable waste of time for a boy. It gets him into + idle, loafing habits." + </p> + <p> + "I never loaf, sir," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "I was not alluding to you in particular. I was referring to the principle + of the thing. A boy ought to be playing cricket with other boys, not + wandering at large about the country, probably smoking and going into low + public houses." + </p> + <p> + "A very wild lot, sir, I fear, the Archaeological Society here," sighed + Psmith, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + "If you choose to waste your time, I suppose I can't hinder you. But in my + opinion it is foolery, nothing else." + </p> + <p> + He stumped off. + </p> + <p> + "Now <i>he's</i> cross," said Psmith, looking after him. "I'm afraid we're + getting ourselves disliked here." + </p> + <p> + "Good job, too." + </p> + <p> + "At any rate, Comrade Outwood loves us. Let's go on and see what sort of a + lunch that large-hearted fossil fancier is going to give us." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 8 — MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + </h2> + <p> + There was more than one moment during the first fortnight of term when + Mike found himself regretting the attitude he had imposed upon himself + with regard to Sedleighan cricket. He began to realize the eternal truth + of the proverb about half a loaf and no bread. In the first flush of his + resentment against his new surroundings he had refused to play cricket. + And now he positively ached for a game. Any sort of a game. An innings for + a Kindergarten <i>v</i>. the Second Eleven of a Home of Rest for + Centenarians would have soothed him. There were times, when the sun shone, + and he caught sight of white flannels on a green ground, and heard the + "plonk" of bat striking ball, when he felt like rushing to Adair and + shouting, "I <i>will</i> be good. I was in the Wrykyn team three years, + and had an average of over fifty the last two seasons. Lead me to the + nearest net, and let me feel a bat in my hands again." + </p> + <p> + But every time he shrank from such a climb down. It couldn't be done. + </p> + <p> + What made it worse was that he saw, after watching behind the nets once or + twice, that Sedleigh cricket was not the childish burlesque of the game + which he had been rash enough to assume that it must be. Numbers do not + make good cricket. They only make the presence of good cricketers more + likely, by the law of averages. + </p> + <p> + Mike soon saw that cricket was by no means an unknown art at Sedleigh. + Adair, to begin with, was a very good bowler indeed. He was not a Burgess, + but Burgess was the only Wrykyn bowler whom, in his three years' + experience of the school, Mike would have placed above him. He was a long + way better than Neville-Smith, and Wyatt, and Milton, and the others who + had taken wickets for Wrykyn. + </p> + <p> + The batting was not so good, but there were some quite capable men. + Barnes, the head of Outwood's, he who preferred not to interfere with + Stone and Robinson, was a mild, rather timid-looking youth—not + unlike what Mr. Outwood must have been as a boy—but he knew how to + keep balls out of his wicket. He was a good bat of the old plodding type. + </p> + <p> + Stone and Robinson themselves, that swashbuckling pair, who now treated + Mike and Psmith with cold but consistent politeness, were both fair + batsmen, and Stone was a good slow bowler. + </p> + <p> + There were other exponents of the game, mostly in Downing's house. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, quite worthy colleagues even for a man who had been a star at + Wrykyn. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + One solitary overture Mike made during that first fortnight. He did not + repeat the experiment. + </p> + <p> + It was on a Thursday afternoon, after school. The day was warm, but + freshened by an almost imperceptible breeze. The air was full of the scent + of the cut grass which lay in little heaps behind the nets. This is the + real cricket scent, which calls to one like the very voice of the game. + </p> + <p> + Mike, as he sat there watching, could stand it no longer. + </p> + <p> + He went up to Adair. + </p> + <p> + "May I have an innings at this net?" he asked. He was embarrassed and + nervous, and was trying not to show it. The natural result was that his + manner was offensively abrupt. + </p> + <p> + Adair was taking off his pads after his innings. He looked up. "This net," + it may be observed, was the first eleven net. + </p> + <p> + "What?" he said. + </p> + <p> + Mike repeated his request. More abruptly this time, from increased + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + "This is the first eleven net," said Adair coldly. "Go in after Lodge over + there." + </p> + <p> + "Over there" was the end net, where frenzied novices were bowling on a + corrugated pitch to a red-haired youth with enormous feet, who looked as + if he were taking his first lesson at the game. + </p> + <p> + Mike walked away without a word. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Archaeological Society expeditions, even though they carried with them + the privilege of listening to Psmith's views of life, proved but a poor + substitute for cricket. Psmith, who had no counterattraction shouting to + him that he ought to be elsewhere, seemed to enjoy them hugely, but Mike + almost cried sometimes from boredom. It was not always possible to slip + away from the throng, for Mr. Outwood evidently looked upon them as among + the very faithful, and kept them by his side. + </p> + <p> + Mike on these occasions was silent and jumpy, his brow "sicklied o'er with + the pale cast of care." But Psmith followed his leader with the pleased + and indulgent air of a father whose infant son is showing him round the + garden. Psmith's attitude toward archaeological research struck a new note + in the history of that neglected science. He was amiable, but patronizing. + He patronized fossils, and he patronized ruins. If he had been confronted + with the Great Pyramid, he would have patronized that. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge. + </p> + <p> + That this was not altogether a genuine thirst was proved in the third + expedition. Mr. Outwood and his band were pecking away at the site of an + old Roman camp. Psmith approached Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Having inspired confidence," he said, "by the docility of our demeanor, + let us slip away, and brood apart for awhile. Roman camps, to be + absolutely accurate, give me the pip. And I never want to see another + putrid fossil in my life. Let us find some shady nook where a man may lie + on his back for a bit." + </p> + <p> + Mike, over whom the proceedings connected with the Roman camp had long + since begun to shed a blue depression, offered no opposition, and they + strolled away down the hill. + </p> + <p> + Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists were still hard at it. + Their departure had passed unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + "A fatiguing pursuit, this grubbing for mementos of the past," said + Psmith. "And, above all, dashed bad for the knees of the trousers. Mine + are like some furrowed field. It's a great grief to a man of refinement, I + can tell you, Comrade Jackson. Ah, this looks a likely spot." + </p> + <p> + They had passed through a gate into the field beyond. At the farther end + there was a brook, shaded by trees and running with a pleasant sound over + pebbles. + </p> + <p> + "Thus far," said Psmith, hitching up the knees of his trousers, and + sitting down, "and no farther. We will rest here awhile, and listen to the + music of the brook. In fact, unless you have anything important to say, I + rather think I'll go to sleep. In this busy life of ours these naps by the + wayside are invaluable. Call me in about an hour." And Psmith, heaving the + comfortable sigh of the worker who by toil has earned rest, lay down, with + his head against a mossy tree stump, and closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mike sat on for a few minutes, listening to the water and making centuries + in his mind, and then, finding this a little dull, he got up, jumped the + brook, and began to explore the wood on the other side. + </p> + <p> + He had not gone many yards when a dog emerged suddenly from the + undergrowth, and began to bark vigorously at him. + </p> + <p> + Mike liked dogs, and, on acquaintance, they always liked him. But when you + meet a dog in someone else's wood, it is as well not to stop in order that + you may get to understand each other. Mike began to thread his way back + through the trees. + </p> + <p> + He was too late. + </p> + <p> + "Stop! What the dickens are you doing here?" shouted a voice behind him. + </p> + <p> + In the same situation a few years before, Mike would have carried on, and + trusted to speed to save him. But now there seemed a lack of dignity in + the action. He came back to where the man was standing. + </p> + <p> + "I'm sorry if I'm trespassing," he said. "I was just having a look round." + </p> + <p> + "The dickens you—Why, you're Jackson!" + </p> + <p> + Mike looked at him. He was a short, broad young man with a fair moustache. + Mike knew that he had seen him before somewhere, but he could not place + him. + </p> + <p> + "I played against you, for the Free Foresters last summer. In passing you + seem to be a bit of a free forester yourself, dancing in among my nesting + pheasants." + </p> + <p> + "I'm frightfully sorry." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right. Where do you spring from?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course—I remember you now. You're Prendergast. You made + fifty-eight not out." + </p> + <p> + "Thanks. I was afraid the only thing you would remember about me was that + you took a century mostly off my bowling." + </p> + <p> + "You ought to have had me second ball, only cover dropped it." + </p> + <p> + "Don't rake up forgotten tragedies. How is it you're not at Wrykyn? What + are you doing down here?" + </p> + <p> + "I've left Wrykyn." + </p> + <p> + Prendergast suddenly changed the conversation. When a fellow tells you + that he has left school unexpectedly, it is not always tactful to inquire + the reason. He began to talk about himself. + </p> + <p> + "I hang out down here. I do a little farming and a good deal of puttering + about." + </p> + <p> + "Get any cricket?" asked Mike, turning to the subject next his heart. + </p> + <p> + "Only village. Very keen, but no great shakes. By the way, how are you off + for cricket now? Have you ever got a spare afternoon?" + </p> + <p> + Mike's heart leaped. + </p> + <p> + "Any Wednesday or Saturday. Look here, I'll tell you how it is." + </p> + <p> + And he told how matters stood with him. + </p> + <p> + "So, you see," he concluded, "I'm supposed to be hunting for ruins and + things"—Mike's ideas on the subject of archaeology were vague—"but + I could always slip away. We all start out together, but I could nip back, + get onto my bike—I've got it down here—and meet you anywhere + you liked. By Jove, I'm simply dying for a game. I can hardly keep my + hands off a bat." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you all you want. What you'd better do is to ride straight to + Lower Borlock—that's the name of the place—and I'll meet you + on the ground. Anyone will tell you where Lower Borlock is. It's just off + the London road. There's a signpost where you turn off. Can you come next + Saturday?" + </p> + <p> + "Rather. I suppose you can fix me up with a bat and pads? I don't want to + bring mine." + </p> + <p> + "I'll lend you everything. I say, you know, we can't give you a Wrykyn + wicket. The Lower Borlock pitch isn't a shirt front." + </p> + <p> + "I'll play on a rockery, if you want me to," said Mike. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + "You're going to what?" asked Psmith, sleepily, on being awakened and told + the news. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to play cricket, for a village near here. I say, don't tell a + soul, will you? I don't want it to get about, or I may get lugged in to + play for the school." + </p> + <p> + "My lips are sealed. I think I'll come and watch you. Cricket I dislike, + but watching cricket is one of the finest of Britain's manly sports. I'll + borrow Jellicoe's bicycle." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + That Saturday, Lower Borlock smote the men of Chidford hip and thigh. + Their victory was due to a hurricane innings of seventy-five by a newcomer + to the team, M. Jackson. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 9 — THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + </h2> + <p> + Cricket is the great safety valve. If you like the game, and are in a + position to play it at least twice a week, life can never be entirely + gray. As time went on, and his average for Lower Borlock reached the + fifties and stayed there, Mike began, though he would not have admitted + it, to enjoy himself. It was not Wrykyn, but it was a very decent + substitute. + </p> + <p> + The only really considerable element making for discomfort now was Mr. + Downing. By bad luck it was in his form that Mike had been placed on + arrival; and Mr. Downing, never an easy form master to get on with, proved + more than usually difficult in his dealings with Mike. + </p> + <p> + They had taken a dislike to each other at their first meeting; and it grew + with further acquaintance. To Mike, Mr. Downing was all that a master + ought not to be, fussy, pompous, and openly influenced in his official + dealings with his form by his own private likes and dislikes. To Mr. + Downing, Mike was simply an unamiable loafer, who did nothing for the + school and apparently had none of the healthy instincts which should be + implanted in the healthy boy. Mr. Downing was rather strong on the healthy + boy. + </p> + <p> + The two lived in a state of simmering hostility, punctuated at intervals + by crises, which usually resulted in Lower Borlock having to play some + unskilled laborer in place of their star batsman, employed doing + "overtime." + </p> + <p> + One of the most acute of these crises, and the most important, in that it + was the direct cause of Mike's appearance in Sedleigh cricket, had to do + with the third weekly meeting of the School Fire Brigade. + </p> + <p> + It may be remembered that this well-supported institution was under Mr. + Downing's special care. It was, indeed, his pet hobby and the apple of his + eye. + </p> + <p> + Just as you had to join the Archaeological Society to secure the esteem of + Mr. Outwood, so to become a member of the Fire Brigade was a safe passport + to the regard of Mr. Downing. To show a keenness for cricket was good, but + to join the Fire Brigade was best of all. + </p> + <p> + The Brigade was carefully organized. At its head was Mr. Downing, a sort + of high priest; under him was a captain, and under the captain a + vice-captain. These two officials were those sportive allies, Stone and + Robinson, of Outwood's house, who, having perceived at a very early date + the gorgeous opportunities for ragging which the Brigade offered to its + members, had joined young and worked their way up. + </p> + <p> + Under them were the rank and file, about thirty in all, of whom perhaps + seven were earnest workers, who looked on the Brigade in the right, or + Downing, spirit. The rest were entirely frivolous. + </p> + <p> + The weekly meetings were always full of life and excitement. + </p> + <p> + At this point it is as well to introduce Sammy to the reader. + </p> + <p> + Sammy, short for Sampson, was a young bull terrier belonging to Mr. + Downing. If it is possible for a man to have two apples of his eye, Sammy + was the other. He was a large, lighthearted dog with a white coat, an + engaging expression, the tongue of an anteater, and a manner which was a + happy blend of hurricane and circular saw. He had long legs, a tenor + voice, and was apparently made of India rubber. + </p> + <p> + Sammy was a great favorite in the school, and a particular friend of + Mike's, the Wrykynian being always a firm ally of every dog he met after + two minutes' acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + In passing, Jellicoe owned a clockwork rat, much in request during French + lessons. + </p> + <p> + We will now proceed to the painful details. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The meetings of the Fire Brigade were held after school in Mr. Downing's + form room. The proceedings always began in the same way, by the reading of + the minutes of the last meeting. After that the entertainment varied + according to whether the members happened to be fertile or not in ideas + for the disturbing of the peace. + </p> + <p> + Today they were in very fair form. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mr. Downing had closed the minute book, Wilson, of the School + House, held up his hand. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Wilson?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, couldn't we have a uniform for the Brigade?" + </p> + <p> + "A uniform?" Mr. Downing pondered. + </p> + <p> + "Red, with green stripes, sir." + </p> + <p> + Red, with a thin green stripe, was the Sedleigh color. + </p> + <p> + "Shall I put it to the vote, sir?" asked Stone. + </p> + <p> + "One moment, Stone." + </p> + <p> + "Those in favor of the motion move to the left, those against it to the + right." + </p> + <p> + A scuffling of feet, a slamming of desk lids and an upset blackboard, and + the meeting had divided. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing rapped irritably on his desk. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down!" he said. "Sit down! I won't have this noise and disturbance. + Stone, sit down—Wilson, get back to your place." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, the motion is carried by twenty-five votes to six." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, may I go and get measured this evening?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir—" + </p> + <p> + "Si-<i>lence!</i> The idea of a uniform is, of course, out of the + question." + </p> + <p> + "Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + </p> + <p> + "Be <i>quiet!</i> Entirely out of the question. We cannot plunge into + needless expense. Stone, listen to me. I cannot have this noise and + disturbance! Another time when a point arises it must be settled by a show + of hands. Well, Wilson?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + </p> + <p> + "Very useful as a protection against falling timbers, sir," said Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think my people would be pleased, sir, if they knew I was going + out to fires without a helmet," said Stone. + </p> + <p> + The whole strength of the company: "Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + </p> + <p> + "Those in favor ..." began Stone. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing banged on his desk. "Silence! Silence!! Silence!!! Helmets + are, of course, perfectly preposterous." + </p> + <p> + "Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + </p> + <p> + "But, sir, the danger!" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, the falling timbers!" + </p> + <p> + The Fire Brigade had been in action once and once only in the memory of + man, and that time it was a haystack which had burned itself out just as + the rescuers had succeeded in fastening the hose to the hydrant. + </p> + <p> + "Silence!" + </p> + <p> + "Then, please, sir, couldn't we have an honor cap? It wouldn't be + expensive, and it would be just as good as a helmet for all the timbers + that are likely to fall on our heads." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing smiled a wry smile. + </p> + <p> + "Our Wilson is facetious," he remarked frostily. + </p> + <p> + "Sir, no, sir! I wasn't facetious! Or couldn't we have tasseled caps like + the first fifteen have? They—" + </p> + <p> + "Wilson, leave the room!" + </p> + <p> + "Sir, <i>please</i>, sir!" + </p> + <p> + "This moment, Wilson. And," as he reached the door, "do me one hundred + lines." + </p> + <p> + A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r," was cut off by the closing door. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing proceeded to improve the occasion. "I deplore this growing + spirit of flippancy," he said. "I tell you I deplore it! It is not right! + If this Fire Brigade is to be of solid use, there must be less of this + flippancy. We must have keenness. I want you boys above all to be keen. + I...? What is that noise?" + </p> + <p> + From the other side of the door proceeded a sound like water gurgling from + a bottle, mingled with cries half suppressed, as if somebody were being + prevented from uttering them by a hand laid over his mouth. The sufferer + appeared to have a high voice. + </p> + <p> + There was a tap at the door and Mike walked in. He was not alone. Those + near enough to see, saw that he was accompanied by Jellicoe's clockwork + rat, which moved rapidly over the floor in the direction of the opposite + wall. + </p> + <p> + "May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Very well—be quick, Jackson; we are busy." + </p> + <p> + Being interrupted in one of his addresses to the Brigade irritated Mr. + Downing. + </p> + <p> + The muffled cries grew more distinct. + </p> + <p> + "What ... is ... that ... noise?" shrilled Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Noise, sir?" asked Mike, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + "I think it's something outside the window, sir," said Stone helpfully. + </p> + <p> + "A bird, I think, sir," said Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "Don't be absurd!" snapped Mr. Downing. "It's outside the door. Wilson!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir?" said a voice "off." + </p> + <p> + "Are you making that whining noise?" + </p> + <p> + "Whining noise, sir? No, sir, I'm not making a whining noise." + </p> + <p> + "What <i>sort</i> of noise, sir?" inquired Mike, as many Wrykynians had + asked before him. It was a question invented by Wrykyn for use in just + such a case as this. + </p> + <p> + "I do not propose," said Mr. Downing acidly, "to imitate the noise; you + can all hear it perfectly plainly. It is a curious whining noise." + </p> + <p> + "They are mowing the cricket field, sir," said the invisible Wilson. + "Perhaps that's it." + </p> + <p> + "It may be one of the desks squeaking, sir," put in Stone. "They do + sometimes." + </p> + <p> + "Or somebody's shoes, sir," added Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "Silence! Wilson?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir?" bellowed the unseen one. + </p> + <p> + "Don't shout at me from the corridor like that. Come in." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir!" + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the muffled whining changed suddenly to a series of tenor + shrieks, and the India-rubber form of Sammy bounded into the room like an + excited kangaroo. + </p> + <p> + Willing hands had by this time deflected the clockwork rat from the wall + to which it had been steering, and pointed it up the alleyway between the + two rows of desks. Mr. Downing, rising from his place, was just in time to + see Sammy with a last leap spring on his prey and begin worrying it. + </p> + <p> + Chaos reigned. + </p> + <p> + "A rat!" shouted Robinson. + </p> + <p> + The twenty-three members of the Brigade who were not earnest instantly + dealt with the situation, each in the manner that seemed proper to him. + Some leaped onto forms, others flung books, all shouted. It was a + stirring, bustling scene. + </p> + <p> + Sammy had by this time disposed of the clockwork rat, and was now + standing, like Marius, among the ruins barking triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + The banging on Mr. Downing's desk resembled thunder. It rose above all the + other noises till in time they gave up the competition and died away. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing shot out orders, threats, and penalties with the rapidity of a + Bren gun. + </p> + <p> + "Stone, sit down! Donovan, if you do not sit down you will be severely + punished. Henderson, one hundred lines for gross disorder! Windham, the + same! Go to your seat, Vincent. What are you doing, Broughton-Knight? I + will not have this disgraceful noise and disorder! The meeting is at an + end; go quietly from the room, all of you. Jackson and Wilson, remain. <i>Quietly</i>, + I said, Durand! Don't shuffle your feet in that abominable way." + </p> + <p> + Crash! + </p> + <p> + "Wolferstan, I distinctly saw you upset that blackboard with a movement of + your hand—one hundred lines. Go quietly from the room, everybody." + </p> + <p> + The meeting dispersed. + </p> + <p> + "Jackson and Wilson, come here. What's the meaning of this disgraceful + conduct? Put that dog out of the room, Jackson." + </p> + <p> + Mike removed the yelling Sammy and shut the door on him. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Wilson?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, I was playing with a clockwork rat—" + </p> + <p> + "What business have you to be playing with clockwork rats?" + </p> + <p> + "Then I remembered," said Mike, "that I had left my Horace in my desk, so + I came in—" + </p> + <p> + "And by a fluke, sir," said Wilson, as one who tells of strange things, + "the rat happened to be pointing in the same direction, so he came in, + too." + </p> + <p> + "I met Sammy on the gravel outside and he followed me." + </p> + <p> + "I tried to collar him, but when you told me to come in, sir, I had to let + him go, and he came in after the rat." + </p> + <p> + It was plain to Mr. Downing that the burden of sin was shared equally by + both culprits. Wilson had supplied the rat, Mike the dog; but Mr. Downing + liked Wilson and disliked Mike. Wilson was in the Fire Brigade, frivolous + at times, it was true, but nevertheless a member. Also he kept wicket for + the school. Mike was a member of the Archaeological Society, and had + refused to play cricket. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing allowed these facts to influence him in passing sentence. + </p> + <p> + "One hundred lines, Wilson," he said. "You may go." + </p> + <p> + Wilson departed with the air of a man who has had a great deal of fun, and + paid very little for it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing turned to Mike. "You will stay in on Saturday afternoon, + Jackson; it will interfere with your Archaeological studies, I fear, but + it may teach you that we have no room at Sedleigh for boys who spend their + time loafing about and making themselves a nuisance. We are a keen school; + this is no place for boys who do nothing but waste their time. That will + do, Jackson." + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Downing walked out of the room. In affairs of this kind a master + has a habit of getting the last word. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 10 — ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + </h2> + <p> + They say misfortunes never come singly. As Mike sat brooding over his + wrongs in his study, after the Sammy incident, Jellicoe came into the + room, and, without preamble, asked for the loan of a pound. + </p> + <p> + When one has been in the habit of confining one's lendings and borrowings + to sixpences and shillings, a request for a pound comes as something of a + blow. + </p> + <p> + "What on earth for?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + "I say, do you mind if I don't tell you? I don't want to tell anybody. The + fact is, I'm in a beastly hole." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, sorry," said Mike. "As a matter of fact, I do happen to have a quid. + You can freeze on to it, if you like. But it's about all I have got, so + don't be shy about paying it back." + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe was profuse in his thanks, and disappeared in a cloud of + gratitude. + </p> + <p> + Mike felt that Fate was treating him badly. Being kept in on Saturday + meant that he would be unable to turn out for Little Borlock against + Claythorpe, the return match. In the previous game he had scored + ninety-eight, and there was a lob bowler in the Claythorpe ranks whom he + was particularly anxious to meet again. Having to yield a sovereign to + Jellicoe—why on earth did the man want all that?—meant that, + unless a carefully worded letter to his brother Bob at Oxford had the + desired effect, he would be practically penniless for weeks. + </p> + <p> + In a gloomy frame of mind he sat down to write to Bob, who was playing + regularly for the Varsity this season, and only the previous week had made + a century against Sussex, so might be expected to be in a sufficiently + softened mood to advance the needful. (Which, it may be stated at once, he + did, by return of post.) + </p> + <p> + Mike was struggling with the opening sentences of this letter—he was + never a very ready writer—when Stone and Robinson burst into the + room. + </p> + <p> + Mike put down his pen, and got up. He was in warlike mood, and welcomed + the intrusion. If Stone and Robinson wanted battle, they should have it. + </p> + <p> + But the motives of the expedition were obviously friendly. Stone beamed. + Robinson was laughing. + </p> + <p> + "You're a sportsman," said Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "What did he give you?" asked Stone. + </p> + <p> + They sat down, Robinson on the table, Stone in Psmith's deck chair. Mike's + heart warmed to them. The little disturbance in the dormitory was a thing + of the past, done with, forgotten, contemporary with Julius Caesar. He + felt that he, Stone and Robinson must learn to know and appreciate one + another. + </p> + <p> + There was, as a matter of fact, nothing much wrong with Stone and + Robinson. They were just ordinary raggers of the type found at every + public school, small and large. They were absolutely free from brain. They + had a certain amount of muscle, and a vast store of animal spirits. They + looked on school life purely as a vehicle for ragging. The Stones and + Robinsons are the swashbucklers of the school world. They go about, loud + and boisterous, with a wholehearted and cheerful indifference to other + people's feelings, treading on the toes of their neighbor and shoving him + off the pavement, and always with an eye wide open for any adventure. As + to the kind of adventure, they are not particular so long as it promises + excitement. Sometimes they go through their whole school career without + accident. More often they run up against a snag in the shape of some + serious-minded and muscular person, who objects to having his toes trodden + on and being shoved off the pavement, and then they usually sober down, to + the mutual advantage of themselves and the rest of the community. + </p> + <p> + One's opinion of this type of youth varies according to one's point of + view. Small boys whom they had occasion to kick, either from pure high + spirits or as a punishment for some slip from the narrow path which the + ideal small boy should tread, regarded Stone and Robinson as bullies of + the genuine "Eric" and "St. Winifred's" brand. Masters were rather afraid + of them. Adair had a smouldering dislike for them. They were useful at + cricket, but apt not to take Sedleigh as seriously as he could have + wished. + </p> + <p> + As for Mike, he now found them pleasant company, and began to get out the + tea things. + </p> + <p> + "Those Fire Brigade meetings," said Stone, "are a rag. You can do what you + like, and you never get more than a hundred lines." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you!" said Mike. "I got Saturday afternoon." + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "Is Wilson in too?" + </p> + <p> + "No. He got a hundred lines." + </p> + <p> + Stone and Robinson were quite concerned. + </p> + <p> + "What a beastly swindle!" + </p> + <p> + "That's because you don't play cricket. Old Downing lets you do what you + like if you join the Fire Brigade and play cricket." + </p> + <p> + "'We are, above all, a keen school,'" quoted Stone. "Don't you ever play?" + </p> + <p> + "I have played a bit," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Well, why don't you have a shot? We aren't such flyers here. If you know + one end of a bat from the other, you could get into some sort of a team. + Were you at school anywhere before you came here?" + </p> + <p> + "I was at Wrykyn." + </p> + <p> + "Why on earth did you leave?" asked Stone. "Were you sacked?" + </p> + <p> + "No. My father took me away." + </p> + <p> + "Wrykyn?" said Robinson. "Are you any relation of the Jacksons there—J.W. + and the others?" + </p> + <p> + "Brother." + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, didn't you play at all there?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Mike, "I did. I was in the team three years, and I should have + been captain this year, if I'd stopped on." + </p> + <p> + There was a profound and gratifying sensation. Stone gaped, and Robinson + nearly dropped his teacup. + </p> + <p> + Stone broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + "But I mean to say—look here? What I mean is, why aren't you + playing? Why don't you play now?" + </p> + <p> + "I do. I play for a village near here. Place called Lower Borlock. A man + who played against Wrykyn for the Free Foresters captains them. He asked + me if I'd like some games for them." + </p> + <p> + "But why not for the school?" + </p> + <p> + "Why should I? It's much better fun for the village. You don't get ordered + about by Adair, for a start." + </p> + <p> + "Adair sticks on side," said Stone. + </p> + <p> + "Enough for six," agreed Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "By Jove," said Stone, "I've got an idea. My word, what a rag!" + </p> + <p> + "What's wrong now?" inquired Mike politely. + </p> + <p> + "Why, look here. Tomorrow's Mid-Term Service Day. It's nowhere near the + middle of the term, but they always have it in the fourth week. There's + chapel at half past nine till half past ten. Then the rest of the day's a + whole holiday. There are always house matches. We're playing Downing's. + Why don't you play and let's smash them?" + </p> + <p> + "By Jove, yes," said Robinson. "Why don't you? They're always sticking on + side because they've won the house cup three years running. I say, do you + bat or bowl?" + </p> + <p> + "Bat. Why?" + </p> + <p> + Robinson rocked on the table. + </p> + <p> + "Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler. You <i>must</i> play, and + knock the cover off him." + </p> + <p> + "Masters don't play in house matches, surely?" + </p> + <p> + "This isn't a real house match. Only a friendly. Downing always turns out + on Mid-Term Service Day. I say, do play." + </p> + <p> + "Think of the rag." + </p> + <p> + "But the team's full," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "The list isn't up yet. We'll nip across to Barnes's study, and make him + alter it." + </p> + <p> + They dashed out of the room. From down the passage Mike heard yells of "<i>Barnes</i>!" + the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited conversation. Then + footsteps returning down the passage. + </p> + <p> + Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions. + </p> + <p> + "I say," he said, "is it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, I mean." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I was in the team." + </p> + <p> + Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. He studied his <i>Wisden</i>, and he + had an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket. + </p> + <p> + "Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one point + naught three last year?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + Barnes's manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop. + </p> + <p> + "I say," he said, "then—er—will you play against Downing's + tomorrow?" + </p> + <p> + "Rather," said Mike. "Thanks awfully. Have some tea?" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 11 — THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + </h2> + <p> + It is the curious instinct which prompts most people to rub a thing in + that makes the lot of the average convert an unhappy one. Only the very + self-controlled can refrain from improving the occasion and scoring off + the convert. Most leap at the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + It was so in Mike's case. Mike was not a genuine convert, but to Mr. + Downing he had the outward aspect of one. When you have been impressing + upon a noncricketing boy for nearly a month that (<i>a</i>) the school is + above all a keen school, (<i>b</i>) that all members of it should play + cricket, and (<i>c</i>) that by not playing cricket he is ruining his + chances in this world and imperiling them in the next; and when, quite + unexpectedly, you come upon this boy dressed in cricket flannels, wearing + cricket boots and carrying a cricket bag, it seems only natural to assume + that you have converted him, that the seeds of your eloquence have fallen + on fruitful soil and sprouted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing assumed it. + </p> + <p> + He was walking to the field with Adair and another member of his team when + he came upon Mike. + </p> + <p> + "What!" he cried. "Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for the + fray!" + </p> + <p> + This was Mr. Downing's No. 2 manner—the playful. + </p> + <p> + "This is indeed Saul among the prophets. Why this sudden enthusiasm for a + game which I understood that you despised? Are our opponents so reduced?" + </p> + <p> + Psmith, who was with Mike, took charge of the affair with a languid grace + which had maddened hundreds in its time, and which never failed to ruffle + Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "We are, above all, sir," he said, "a keen house. Drones are not welcomed + by us. We are essentially versatile. Jackson, the archaeologist of + yesterday, becomes the cricketer of today. It is the right spirit, sir," + said Psmith earnestly. "I like to see it." + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, Smith? You are not playing yourself, I notice. Your enthusiasm + has bounds." + </p> + <p> + "In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committee + unfortunately passed me over." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + There were a number of pitches dotted about over the field, for there was + always a touch of the London Park about it on Mid-Term Service Day. Adair, + as captain of cricket, had naturally selected the best for his own match. + It was a good wicket, Mike saw. As a matter of fact the wickets at + Sedleigh were nearly always good. Adair had infected the groundsman with + some of his own keenness, with the result that that once-leisurely + official now found himself sometimes, with a kind of mild surprise, + working really hard. At the beginning of the previous season Sedleigh had + played a scratch team from a neighboring town on a wicket which, except + for the creases, was absolutely undistinguishable from the surrounding + turf, and behind the pavilion after the match Adair had spoken certain + home truths to the groundsman. The latter's reformation had dated from + that moment. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Barnes, timidly jubilant, came up to Mike with the news that he had won + the toss, and the request that Mike would go in first with him. + </p> + <p> + In stories of the "Not Really a Duffer" type, where the nervous new boy, + who has been found crying in the changing room over the photograph of his + sister, contrives to get an innings in a game, nobody suspects that he is + really a prodigy till he hits the Bully's first ball out of the ground for + six. + </p> + <p> + With Mike it was different. There was no pitying smile on Adair's face as + he started his run preparatory to sending down the first ball. Mike, on + the cricket field, could not have looked anything but a cricketer if he + had turned out in a tweed suit and hobnail boots. Cricketer was written + all over him—in his walk, in the way he took guard, in his stand at + the wicket. Adair started to bowl with the feeling that this was somebody + who had more than a little knowledge of how to deal with good bowling and + punish bad. + </p> + <p> + Mike started cautiously. He was more than usually anxious to make runs + today, and he meant to take no risks till he could afford to do so. He had + seen Adair bowl at the nets, and he knew that he was good. + </p> + <p> + The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played. The + fieldsmen changed over. + </p> + <p> + The general interest had now settled on the match between Outwood's and + Downing's. The facts in Mike's case had gone around the field, and, as + several of the other games had not yet begun, quite a large crowd had + collected near the pavilion to watch. Mike's masterly treatment of the + opening over had impressed the spectators, and there was a popular desire + to see how he would deal with Mr. Downing's slows. It was generally + anticipated that he would do something special with them. + </p> + <p> + Off the first ball of the master's over a leg-bye was run. + </p> + <p> + Mike took guard. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was a bowler with a style of his own. He took two short steps, + two long steps, gave a jump, took three more short steps, and ended with a + combination of step and jump, during which the ball emerged from behind + his back and started on its slow career to the wicket. The whole business + had some of the dignity of the old-fashioned minuet, subtly blended with + the careless vigor of a cakewalk. The ball, when delivered, was billed to + break from leg, but the program was subject to alterations. + </p> + <p> + If the spectators had expected Mike to begin any firework effects with the + first ball, they were disappointed. He played the over through with a + grace worthy of his brother Joe. The last ball he turned to leg for a + single. + </p> + <p> + His treatment of Adair's next over was freer. He had got a sight of the + ball now. Halfway through the over a beautiful square cut forced a passage + through the crowd by the pavilion, and dashed up against the rails. He + drove the sixth ball past cover for three. + </p> + <p> + The crowd was now reluctantly dispersing to its own games, but it stopped + as Mr. Downing started his minuet-cakewalk, in the hope that it might see + something more sensational. + </p> + <p> + This time the hope was fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + The ball was well up, slow, and off the wicket on the on-side. Perhaps if + it had been allowed to pitch, it might have broken in and become quite + dangerous. Mike went out at it, and hit it a couple of feet from the + ground. The ball dropped with a thud and a spurting of dust in the road + that ran along one side of the cricket field. + </p> + <p> + It was returned on the installment system by helpers from other games, and + the bowler began his maneuvers again. A half volley this time. Mike + slammed it back, and mid on, whose heart was obviously not in the thing, + failed to stop it. + </p> + <p> + "Get to them, Jenkins," said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came back + from the boundary. "Get to them." + </p> + <p> + "Sir, please, sir—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't talk in the field, Jenkins." + </p> + <p> + Having had a full pitch hit for six and a half volley for four, there was + a strong probability that Mr. Downing would pitch his next ball short. + </p> + <p> + The expected happened. The third ball was a slow long hop, and hit the + road at about the same spot where the first had landed. A howl of + untuneful applause rose from the watchers in the pavilion, and Mike, with + the feeling that this sort of bowling was too good to be true, waited in + position for number four. + </p> + <p> + There are moments when a sort of panic seizes a bowler. This happened now + with Mr. Downing. He suddenly abandoned science and ran amok. His run lost + its stateliness and increased its vigor. He charged up to the wicket as a + wounded buffalo sometimes charges a gun. His whole idea now was to bowl + fast. + </p> + <p> + When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to be + batting, if you can manage it. + </p> + <p> + By the time the over was finished, Mike's score had been increased by + sixteen, and the total of his side, in addition, by three wides. + </p> + <p> + And a shrill small voice, from the neighborhood of the pavilion, uttered + with painful distinctness the words, "Take him off!" + </p> + <p> + That was how the most sensational day's cricket began that Sedleigh had + known. + </p> + <p> + A description of the details of the morning's play would be monotonous. It + is enough to say that they ran on much the same lines as the third and + fourth overs of the match. Mr. Downing bowled one more over, off which + Mike helped himself to sixteen runs, and then retired moodily to cover + point, where, in Adair's fifth over, he missed Barnes—the first + occasion since the game began on which that mild batsman had attempted to + score more than a single. Scared by this escape, Outwood's captain shrank + back into his shell, sat on the splice like a limpet, and, offering no + more chances, was not out at lunchtime with a score of eleven. Mike had + then made a hundred and three. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + As Mike was taking off his pads in the pavilion, Adair came up. + </p> + <p> + "Why did you say you didn't play cricket?" he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + When one has been bowling the whole morning, and bowling well, without the + slightest success, one is inclined to be abrupt. + </p> + <p> + Mike finished unfastening an obstinate strap. Then he looked up. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't say anything of the kind. I said I wasn't going to play here. + There's a difference. As a matter of fact, I was in the Wrykyn team before + I came here. Three years." + </p> + <p> + Adair was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "Will you play for us against the Old Sedleighans tomorrow?" he said at + length. + </p> + <p> + Mike tossed his pads into his bag and got up. + </p> + <p> + "No, thanks." + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. + </p> + <p> + "Above it, I suppose?" + </p> + <p> + "Not a bit. Not up to it. I shall want a lot of coaching at that end net + of yours before I'm fit to play for Sedleigh." + </p> + <p> + There was another pause. + </p> + <p> + "Then you won't play?" asked Adair. + </p> + <p> + "I'm not keeping you, am I?" said Mike, politely. + </p> + <p> + It was remarkable what a number of members of Outwood's house appeared to + cherish a personal grudge against Mr. Downing. It had been that master's + somewhat injudicious practice for many years to treat his own house as a + sort of Chosen People. Of all masters, the most unpopular is he who by the + silent tribunal of a school is convicted of favoritism. And the dislike + deepens if it is a house which he favors and not merely individuals. On + occasions when boys in his own house and boys from other houses were + accomplices and partners in wrongdoing, Mr. Downing distributed his + thunderbolts unequally, and the school noticed it. The result was that not + only he himself, but also—which was rather unfair—his house, + too, had acquired a good deal of unpopularity. + </p> + <p> + The general consensus of opinion in Outwood's during the luncheon interval + was that having got Downing's up a tree, they would be fools not to make + the most of the situation. + </p> + <p> + Barnes's remark that he supposed, unless anything happened and wickets + began to fall a bit faster, they had better think of declaring somewhere + about half past three or four, was met with a storm of opposition. + </p> + <p> + "Declare!" said Robinson. "Great Scot, what on earth are you talking + about?" + </p> + <p> + "Declare!" Stone's voice was almost a wail of indignation. "I never saw + such a chump." + </p> + <p> + "They'll be rather sick if we don't, won't they?" suggested Barnes. + </p> + <p> + "Sick! I should think they would," said Stone. "That's just the gay idea. + Can't you see that by a miracle we've got a chance of getting a jolly good + bit of our own back against those Downing's ticks? What we've got to do is + to jolly well keep them in the field all day if we can, and be jolly glad + it's so beastly hot. If they lose about a dozen pounds each through + sweating about in the sun after Jackson's drives, perhaps they'll stick on + less side about things in general in future. Besides, I want an innings + against that bilge of old Downing's, if I can get it." + </p> + <p> + "So do I," said Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "If you declare, I swear I won't field. Nor will Robinson." + </p> + <p> + "Rather not." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I won't then," said Barnes unhappily. "Only you know they're rather + sick already." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you worry about that," said Stone with a wide grin. "They'll be a + lot sicker before we've finished." + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that that particular Mid-Term Service-Day match made + history. Big scores had often been put up on Mid-Term Service Day. Games + had frequently been one-sided. But it had never happened before in the + annals of the school that one side, going in first early in the morning, + had neither completed its innings nor declared it closed when stumps were + drawn at 6.30. In no previous Sedleigh match, after a full day's play, had + the pathetic words "Did not bat" been written against the whole of one of + the contending teams. + </p> + <p> + These are the things which mark epochs. + </p> + <p> + Play was resumed at 2.15. For a quarter of an hour Mike was comparatively + quiet. Adair, fortified by food and rest, was bowling really well, and his + first half dozen overs had to be watched carefully. But the wicket was too + good to give him a chance, and Mike, playing himself in again, proceeded + to get to business once more. Bowlers came and went. Adair pounded away at + one end with brief intervals between the attacks. Mr. Downing took a + couple more overs, in one of which a horse, passing in the road, nearly + had its useful life cut suddenly short. Change bowlers of various actions + and paces, each weirder and more futile than the last, tried their luck. + But still the first-wicket stand continued. + </p> + <p> + The bowling of a house team is all head and no body. The first pair + probably have some idea of length and break. The first-change pair are + poor. And the rest, the small change, are simply the sort of things one + sees in dreams after a heavy supper, or when one is out without one's gun. + </p> + <p> + Time, mercifully, generally breaks up a big stand at cricket before the + field has suffered too much, and that is what happened now. At four + o'clock, when the score stood at two hundred and twenty for no wicket, + Barnes, greatly daring, smote lustily at a rather wide half volley and was + caught at short slip for thirty-three. He retired blushfully to the + pavilion, amidst applause, and Stone came out. + </p> + <p> + As Mike had then made a hundred and eighty-seven, it was assumed by the + field, that directly he had topped his second century, the closure would + be applied and their ordeal finished. There was almost a sigh of relief + when frantic cheering from the crowd told that the feat had been + accomplished. The fieldsmen clapped in quite an indulgent sort of way, as + who should say, "Capital, capital. And now let's start <i>our</i> + innings." Some even began to edge toward the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + But the next ball was bowled, and the next over, and the next after that, + and still Barnes made no sign. (The conscience stricken captain of + Outwood's was, as a matter of fact, being practically held down by + Robinson and other ruffians by force.) + </p> + <p> + A gray dismay settled on the field. + </p> + <p> + The bowling had now become almost unbelievably bad. Lobs were being tried, + and Stone, nearly weeping with pure joy, was playing an innings of the + "How-to-brighten-cricket" type. He had an unorthodox style, but an + excellent eye, and the road at this period of the game became absolutely + unsafe for pedestrians and traffic. + </p> + <p> + Mike's pace had become slower, as was only natural, but his score, too, + was mounting steadily. + </p> + <p> + "This is foolery," snapped Mr. Downing, as the three hundred and fifty + went up on the board. "Barnes!" he called. + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. A committee of three was at that moment engaged in + sitting on Barnes's head in the first eleven changing room, in order to + correct a more than usually feverish attack of conscience. + </p> + <p> + "Barnes!" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir," said Stone, some species of telepathy telling him what was + detaining his captain. "I think Barnes must have left the field. He has + probably gone over to the house to fetch something." + </p> + <p> + "This is absurd. You must declare your innings closed. The game has become + a farce." + </p> + <p> + "Declare! Sir, we can't unless Barnes does. He might be awfully annoyed if + we did anything like that without consulting him." + </p> + <p> + "Absurd." + </p> + <p> + "He's very touchy, sir." + </p> + <p> + "It is perfect foolery." + </p> + <p> + "I think Jenkins is just going to bowl, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing walked moodily to his place. + </p> + <p> + In a neat wooden frame in the senior day room at Outwood's, just above the + mantlepiece, there was on view, a week later, a slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + The writing on it was as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OUTWOOD'S <i>v</i>. DOWNING'S + + <i>Outwood's. First innings</i>. + + J.P. Barnes, <i>c</i>. Hammond, <i>b</i>. Hassall 33 + M. Jackson, not out 277 + W.J. Stone, not out 124 + Extras 37 + Total (for one wicket) 471 + Downing's did not bat. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 12 — THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOR OF JELLICOE + </h2> + <p> + Outwood's rollicked considerably that night. Mike, if he had cared to take + the part, could have been the Petted Hero. But a cordial invitation from + the senior day room to be the guest of the evening at about the biggest + rag of the century had been refused on the plea of fatigue. One does not + make two hundred and seventy-seven runs on a hot day without feeling the + effects, even if one has scored mainly by the medium of boundaries; and + Mike, as he lay back in Psmith's deck chair, felt that all he wanted was + to go to bed and stay there for a week. His hands and arms burned as if + they were red-hot, and his eyes were so tired that he could not keep them + open. + </p> + <p> + Psmith, leaning against the mantlepiece, discoursed in a desultory way on + the day's happenings—the score off Mr. Downing, the undeniable + annoyance of that battered bowler, and the probability of his venting his + annoyance on Mike next day. + </p> + <p> + "In theory," said he, "the manly what-d'you-call-it of cricket and all + that sort of thing ought to make him fall on your neck tomorrow and weep + over you as a foeman worthy of his steel. But I am prepared to bet a + reasonable sum that he will give no jujitsu exhibition of this kind. In + fact, from what I have seen of our bright little friend, I should say + that, in a small way, he will do his best to make it distinctly hot for + you, here and there." + </p> + <p> + "I don't care," murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair. + </p> + <p> + "In an ordinary way, I suppose, a man can put up with having his bowling + hit a little. But your performance was cruelty to animals. Twenty-eight + off one over, not to mention three wides, would have made Job foam at the + mouth. You will probably get sacked. On the other hand, it's worth it. You + have lit a candle this day which can never be blown out. You have shown + the lads of the village how Comrade Downing's bowling ought to be treated. + I don't suppose he'll ever take another wicket." + </p> + <p> + "He doesn't deserve to." + </p> + <p> + Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round again. + </p> + <p> + "The only blot on this day of mirth and goodwill is," he said, "the + singular conduct of our friend Jellicoe. When all the place was ringing + with song and merriment, Comrade Jellicoe crept to my side, and, slipping + his little hand in mine, touched me for three quid." + </p> + <p> + This interested Mike, tired as he was. + </p> + <p> + "What! Three quid!" + </p> + <p> + "Three crisp, crackling quid. He wanted four." + </p> + <p> + "But the man must be living at the rate of I don't know what. It was only + yesterday that he borrowed a quid from <i>me</i>!" + </p> + <p> + "He must be saving money fast. There appear to be the makings of a + financier about Comrade Jellicoe. Well, I hope, when he's collected enough + for his needs, he'll pay me back a bit. I'm pretty well cleaned out." + </p> + <p> + "I got some from my brother at Oxford." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps he's saving up to get married. We may be helping toward + furnishing the home. There was a Siamese prince fellow at my dame's at + Eton who had four wives when he arrived, and gathered in a fifth during + his first summer holidays. It was done on the correspondence system. His + Prime Minister fixed it up at the other end, and sent him the glad news on + a picture post card. I think an eye ought to be kept on Comrade Jellicoe." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mike tumbled into bed that night like a log, but he could not sleep. He + ached all over. Psmith chatted for a time on human affairs in general, and + then dropped gently off. Jellicoe, who appeared to be wrapped in gloom, + contributed nothing to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + After Psmith had gone to sleep, Mike lay for some time running over in his + mind, as the best substitute for sleep, the various points of his innings + that day. He felt very hot and uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + Just as he was wondering whether it would not be a good idea to get up and + have a cold bath, a voice spoke from the darkness at his side. + </p> + <p> + "Are you asleep, Jackson?" + </p> + <p> + "Who's that?" + </p> + <p> + "Me—Jellicoe. I can't get to sleep." + </p> + <p> + "Nor can I. I'm stiff all over." + </p> + <p> + "I'll come over and sit on your bed." + </p> + <p> + There was a creaking, and then a weight descended in the neighborhood of + Mike's toes. + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe was apparently not in conversational mood. He uttered no word for + quite three minutes. At the end of which time he gave a sound midway + between a snort and a sigh. + </p> + <p> + "I say, Jackson!" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" + </p> + <p> + "Have you—oh, nothing." + </p> + <p> + Silence again. + </p> + <p> + "Jackson." + </p> + <p> + "Hello?" + </p> + <p> + "I say, what would your people say if you got sacked?" + </p> + <p> + "All sorts of things. Especially my father. Why?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't know. So would mine." + </p> + <p> + "Everybody's would, I expect." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + The bed creaked, as Jellicoe digested these great thoughts. Then he spoke + again. + </p> + <p> + "It would be a jolly beastly thing to get sacked." + </p> + <p> + Mike was too tired to give his mind to the subject. He was not really + listening. Jellicoe droned on in a depressed sort of way. + </p> + <p> + "You'd get home in the middle of the afternoon, I suppose, and you'd drive + up to the house, and the servant would open the door, and you'd go in. + They might all be out, and then you'd have to hang about, and wait; and + presently you'd hear them come in, and you'd go out into the passage, and + they'd say 'Hello!'" + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe, in order to give verisimilitude, as it were, to an otherwise + bald and unconvincing narrative, flung so much agitated surprise into the + last word that it woke Mike from a troubled doze into which he had fallen. + </p> + <p> + "Hello?" he said. "What's up?" + </p> + <p> + "Then you'd say, 'Hello!' And then they'd say, 'What are you doing here?' + And you'd say—" + </p> + <p> + "What on earth are you talking about?" + </p> + <p> + "About what would happen." + </p> + <p> + "Happen when?" + </p> + <p> + "When you got home. After being sacked, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Who's been sacked?" Mike's mind was still under a cloud. + </p> + <p> + "Nobody. But if you were, I meant. And then I suppose there'd be an awful + row and general sickness, and all that. And then you'd be sent into a + bank, or to Australia, or something." + </p> + <p> + Mike dozed off again. + </p> + <p> + "My father would be frightfully sick. My mater would be sick. My sister + would be jolly sick, too. Have you got any sisters, Jackson? I say, + Jackson!" + </p> + <p> + "Hello! What's the matter? Who's that?" + </p> + <p> + "Me—Jellicoe." + </p> + <p> + "What's up?" + </p> + <p> + "I asked you if you'd got any sisters." + </p> + <p> + "Any <i>what?</i>" + </p> + <p> + "Sisters." + </p> + <p> + "Whose sisters?" + </p> + <p> + "Yours. I asked if you'd got any." + </p> + <p> + "Any what?" + </p> + <p> + "Sisters." + </p> + <p> + "What about them?" + </p> + <p> + The conversation was becoming too intricate for Jellicoe. He changed the + subject. + </p> + <p> + "I say, Jackson!" + </p> + <p> + "Well?" + </p> + <p> + "I say, you don't know anyone who could lend me a pound, do you?" + </p> + <p> + "What!" cried Mike, sitting up in bed and staring through the darkness in + the direction whence the numismatist's voice was proceeding. "Do <i>what?</i>" + </p> + <p> + "I say, look out. You'll wake Psmith." + </p> + <p> + "Did you say you wanted someone to lend you a quid?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Jellicoe eagerly. "Do you know anyone?" + </p> + <p> + Mike's head throbbed. This thing was too much. The human brain could not + be expected to cope with it. Here was a youth who had borrowed a pound + from one friend the day before, and three pounds from another friend that + very afternoon, already looking about him for further loans. Was it a + hobby, or was he saving up to buy an airplane? + </p> + <p> + "What on earth do you want a pound for?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to tell anybody. But it's jolly serious. I shall get sacked + if I don't get it." + </p> + <p> + Mike pondered. + </p> + <p> + Those who have followed Mike's career as set forth by the present + historian will have realized by this time that he was a good long way from + being perfect. As the Blue-Eyed Hero he would have been a rank failure. + Except on the cricket field, where he was a natural genius, he was just + ordinary. He resembled ninety percent of other members of English public + schools. He had some virtues and a good many defects. He was as obstinate + as a mule, though people whom he liked could do as they pleased with him. + He was good-natured as a general thing, but on occasion his temper could + be of the worst, and had, in his childhood, been the subject of much + adverse comment among his aunts. He was rigidly truthful, where the issue + concerned only himself. Where it was a case of saving a friend, he was + prepared to act in a manner reminiscent of an American expert witness. + </p> + <p> + He had, in addition, one good quality without any defect to balance it. He + was always ready to help people. And when he set himself to do this, he + was never put off by discomfort or risk. He went at the thing with a + singleness of purpose that asked no questions. + </p> + <p> + Bob's postal order which had arrived that evening, was reposing in the + breast pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + It was a wrench, but, if the situation was so serious with Jellicoe, it + had to be done. + </p> + <p> + Two minutes later the night was being made hideous by Jellicoe's almost + tearful protestations of gratitude, and the postal order had moved from + one side of the dormitory to the other. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 13 — JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK LIST + </h2> + <p> + Mike woke next morning with a confused memory of having listened to a + great deal of incoherent conversation from Jellicoe, and a painfully vivid + recollection of handing over the bulk of his worldly wealth to him. The + thought depressed him, though it seemed to please Jellicoe, for the latter + caroled in a gay undertone as he dressed, till Psmith, who had a sensitive + ear, asked as a favor that these farmyard imitations might cease until he + was out of the room. + </p> + <p> + There were other things to make Mike low-spirited that morning. To begin + with, he was in detention, which in itself is enough to spoil a day. It + was a particularly fine day, which made the matter worse. In addition to + this, he had never felt stiffer in his life. It seemed to him that the + creaking of his joints as he walked must be audible to everyone within a + radius of several yards. Finally, there was the interview with Mr. Downing + to come. That would probably be unpleasant. As Psmith had said, Mr. + Downing was the sort of master who would be likely to make trouble. The + great match had not been an ordinary match. Mr. Downing was a curious man + in many ways, but he did not make a fuss on ordinary occasions when his + bowling proved expensive. Yesterday's performance, however, stood in a + class by itself. It stood forth without disguise as a deliberate rag. One + side does not keep another in the field the whole day in a one-day match + except as a grisly kind of practical joke. And Mr. Downing and his house + realized this. The house's way of signifying its comprehension of the fact + was to be cold and distant as far as the seniors were concerned, and + abusive and pugnacious as regards the juniors. Young blood had been shed + overnight, and more flowed during the eleven-o'-clock interval that + morning to avenge the insult. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing's methods of retaliation would have to be, of necessity, more + elusive; but Mike did not doubt that in some way or other his form master + would endeavor to get a bit of his own back. + </p> + <p> + As events turned out, he was perfectly right. When a master has got his + knife into a boy, especially a master who allows himself to be influenced + by his likes and dislikes, he is inclined to single him out in times of + stress, and savage him as if he were the official representative of the + evildoers. Just as, at sea, the skipper when he has trouble with the crew, + works it off on the boy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was in a sarcastic mood when he met Mike. That is to say, he + began in a sarcastic strain. But this sort of thing is difficult to keep + up. By the time he had reached his peroration, the rapier had given place + to the bludgeon. For sarcasm to be effective, the user of it must be met + halfway. His hearer must appear to be conscious of the sarcasm and moved + by it. Mike, when masters waxed sarcastic toward him, always assumed an + air of stolid stupidity, which was as a suit of mail against satire. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Downing came down from the heights with a run, and began to express + himself with a simple strength which it did his form good to listen to. + Veterans who had been in the form for terms said afterward that there had + been nothing to touch it, in their experience of the orator, since the + glorious day when Dunster, that prince of raggers, who had left at + Christmas to go to a crammer's, had introduced three lively grass snakes + into the room during a Latin lesson. + </p> + <p> + "You are surrounded," concluded Mr. Downing, snapping his pencil in two in + his emotion, "by an impenetrable mass of conceit and vanity and + selfishness. It does not occur to you to admit your capabilities as a + cricketer in an open, straightforward way and place them at the disposal + of the school. No, that would not be dramatic enough for you. It would be + too commonplace altogether. Far too commonplace!" Mr. Downing laughed + bitterly. "No, you must conceal your capabilities. You must act a lie. You + must—who is that shuffling his feet? I will not have it, I <i>will</i> + have silence—you must hang back in order to make a more effective + entrance, like some wretched actor who—I will <i>not</i> have this + shuffling. I have spoken of this before. Macpherson, are you shuffling + your feet?" + </p> + <p> + "Sir, no, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Parsons?" + </p> + <p> + "I think it's the noise of the draft under the door, sir." + </p> + <p> + Instant departure of Parsons for the outer regions. And, in the excitement + of this side issue, the speaker lost his inspiration, and abruptly + concluded his remarks by putting Mike on to translate in Cicero. Which + Mike, who happened to have prepared the first half-page, did with much + success. + </p> + <p> + The Old Boys' match was timed to begin shortly after eleven o'clock. + During the interval most of the school walked across the field to look at + the pitch. One or two of the Old Boys had already changed and were + practicing in front of the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + It was through one of these batsmen that an accident occurred which had a + good deal of influence on Mike's affairs. + </p> + <p> + Mike had strolled out by himself. Halfway across the field Jellicoe joined + him. Jellicoe was cheerful, and rather embarrassingly grateful. He was + just in the middle of his harangue when the accident happened. + </p> + <p> + To their left, as they crossed the field, a long youth, with the faint + beginnings of a moustache and a blazer that lit up the surrounding + landscape like a glowing beacon, was lashing out recklessly at a friend's + bowling. Already he had gone within an ace of slaying a small boy. As Mike + and Jellicoe proceeded on their way, there was a shout of "Heads!" + </p> + <p> + The almost universal habit of batsmen of shouting "Heads!" at whatever + height from the ground the ball may be, is not a little confusing. The + average person, on hearing the shout, puts his hands over his skull, + crouches down and trusts to luck. This is an excellent plan if the ball is + falling, but is not much protection against a skimming drive along the + ground. + </p> + <p> + When "Heads!" was called on the present occasion, Mike and Jellicoe + instantly assumed the crouching attitude. + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe was the first to abandon it. He uttered a yell and sprang into + the air. After which he sat down and began to nurse his ankle. + </p> + <p> + The bright-blazered youth walked up. + </p> + <p> + "Awfully sorry, you know. Hurt?" + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe was pressing the injured spot tenderly with his fingertips, + uttering sharp howls whenever, zeal outrunning discretion, he prodded + himself too energetically. + </p> + <p> + "Silly ass, Dunster," he groaned, "slamming about like that." + </p> + <p> + "Awfully sorry. But I did yell." + </p> + <p> + "It's swelling up rather," said Mike. "You'd better get over to the house + and have it looked at. Can you walk?" + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe tried, but sat down again with a loud "Ow!" At that moment the + bell rang. + </p> + <p> + "I shall have to be going in," said Mike, "or I'd have helped you over." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you a hand," said Dunster. + </p> + <p> + He helped the sufferer to his feet and they staggered off together, + Jellicoe hopping, Dunster advancing with a sort of polka step. Mike + watched them start and then turned to go in. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 14 — MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + </h2> + <p> + There is only one thing to be said in favor of detention on a fine + summer's afternoon, and that is that it is very pleasant to come out of. + The sun never seems so bright or the turf so green as during the first + five minutes after one has come out of the detention room. One feels as if + one were entering a new and very delightful world. There is also a touch + of the Rip van Winkle feeling. Everything seems to have gone on and left + one behind. Mike, as he walked to the cricket field, felt very much behind + the times. + </p> + <p> + Arriving on the field he found the Old Boys batting. He stopped and + watched an over of Adair's. The fifth ball bowled a man. Mike made his way + toward the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + Before he got there he heard his name called, and turning, found Psmith + seated under a tree with the bright-blazered Dunster. + </p> + <p> + "Return of the exile," said Psmith. "A joyful occasion tinged with + melancholy. Have a cherry?—take one or two. These little acts of + unremembered kindness are what one needs after a couple of hours in extra + pupil room. Restore your tissues, Comrade Jackson, and when you have + finished those, apply again." + </p> + <p> + "Is your name Jackson?" inquired Dunster, "because Jellicoe wants to see + you." + </p> + <p> + "Alas, poor Jellicoe!" said Psmith. "He is now prone on his bed in the + dormitory—there a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Jellicoe, the darling of + the crew, faithful below he did his duty, but Comrade Dunster has broached + him to. I have just been hearing the melancholy details." + </p> + <p> + "Old Smith and I," said Dunster, "were at prep school together. I'd no + idea I should find him here." + </p> + <p> + "It was a wonderfully stirring sight when we met," said Psmith; "not + unlike the meeting of Ulysses and the hound Argos, of whom you have + doubtless read in the course of your dabblings in the classics. I was + Ulysses; Dunster gave a lifelike representation of the faithful dawg." + </p> + <p> + "You still jaw as much as ever, I notice," said the animal delineator, + fondling the beginnings of his moustache. + </p> + <p> + "More," sighed Psmith, "more. Is anything irritating you?" he added, + eyeing the other's maneuvers with interest. + </p> + <p> + "You needn't be a funny ass, man," said Dunster, pained; "heaps of people + tell me I ought to have it waxed." + </p> + <p> + "What it really wants is top-dressing with guano. Hello! another man out. + Adair's bowling better today than he did yesterday." + </p> + <p> + "I heard about yesterday," said Dunster. "It must have been a rag! + Couldn't we work off some other rag on somebody before I go? I shall be + stopping here till Monday in the village. Well hit, sir—Adair's + bowling is perfectly simple if you go out to it." + </p> + <p> + "Comrade Dunster went out to it first ball," said Psmith to Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Oh! chuck it, man; the sun was in my eyes. I hear Adair's got a match on + with the M.C.C. at last." + </p> + <p> + "Has he?" said Psmith; "I hadn't heard. Archaeology claims so much of my + time that I have little leisure for listening to cricket chitchat." + </p> + <p> + "What was it Jellicoe wanted?" asked Mike; "was it anything important?" + </p> + <p> + "He seemed to think so—he kept telling me to tell you to go and see + him." + </p> + <p> + "I fear Comrade Jellicoe is a bit of a weak-minded blitherer—" + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever hear of a rag we worked off on Jellicoe once?" asked + Dunster. "The man has absolutely no sense of humor—can't see when + he's being rotted. Well, it was like this—hello! We're all out—I + shall have to be going out to field again, I suppose, dash it! I'll tell + you when I see you again." + </p> + <p> + "I shall count the minutes," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + Mike stretched himself; the sun was very soothing after his two hours in + the detention room; he felt disinclined for exertion. + </p> + <p> + "I don't suppose it's anything special about Jellicoe, do you?" he said. + "I mean, it'll keep till teatime; it's no catch having to sweat across to + the house now." + </p> + <p> + "Don't dream of moving," said Psmith. "I have several rather profound + observations on life to make and I can't make them without an audience. + Soliloquy is a knack. Hamlet had got it, but probably only after years of + patient practice. Personally, I need someone to listen when I talk. I like + to feel that I am doing good. You stay where you are—don't interrupt + too much." + </p> + <p> + Mike tilted his hat over his eyes and abandoned Jellicoe. + </p> + <p> + It was not until the lock-up bell rang that he remembered him. He went + over to the house and made his way to the dormitory, where he found the + injured one in a parlous state, not so much physical as mental. The doctor + had seen his ankle and reported that it would be on the active list in a + couple of days. It was Jellicoe's mind that needed attention now. + </p> + <p> + Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse. "I say, you might + have come before!" said Jellicoe. + </p> + <p> + "What's up? I didn't know there was such a hurry about it—what did + you want?" + </p> + <p> + "It's no good now," said Jellicoe gloomily; "it's too late, I shall get + sacked." + </p> + <p> + "What on earth are you talking about? What's the row?" + </p> + <p> + "It's about that money." + </p> + <p> + "What about it?" + </p> + <p> + "I had to pay it to a man today, or he said he'd write to the Head—then + of course I should get sacked. I was going to take the money to him this + afternoon, only I got crocked, so I couldn't move. I wanted to get hold of + you to ask you to take it for me—it's too late now!" + </p> + <p> + Mike's face fell. "Oh, hang it!" he said, "I'm awfully sorry. I'd no idea + it was anything like that—what a fool I was! Dunster did say he + thought it was something important, only like an ass I thought it would do + if I came over at lockup." + </p> + <p> + "It doesn't matter," said Jellicoe miserably; "it can't be helped." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it can," said Mike. "I know what I'll do—it's all right. I'll + get out of the house after lights-out." + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe sat up. "You can't! You'd get sacked if you were caught." + </p> + <p> + "Who would catch me? There was a chap at Wrykyn I knew who used to break + out every night nearly and go and pot at cats with an air pistol; it's as + easy as anything." + </p> + <p> + The toad-under-the-harrow expression began to fade from Jellicoe's face. + "I say, do you think you could, really?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course I can! It'll be rather a rag." + </p> + <p> + "I say, it's frightfully decent of you." + </p> + <p> + "What absolute rot!" + </p> + <p> + "But look here, are you certain—" + </p> + <p> + "I shall be all right. Where do you want me to go?" + </p> + <p> + "It's a place about a mile or two from here, called Lower Borlock." + </p> + <p> + "Lower Borlock?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, do you know it?" + </p> + <p> + "Rather! I've been playing cricket for them all the term." + </p> + <p> + "I say, have you? Do you know a man called Barley?" + </p> + <p> + "Barley? Rather—he runs the White Boar." + </p> + <p> + "He's the chap I owe the money to." + </p> + <p> + "Old Barley!" + </p> + <p> + Mike knew the landlord of the White Boar well; he was the wag of the + village team. Every village team, for some mysterious reason, has its + comic man. In the Lower Borlock eleven Mr. Barley filled the post. He was + a large, stout man, with a red and cheerful face, who looked exactly like + the jovial innkeeper of melodrama. He was the last man Mike would have + expected to do the "money by Monday-week or I write to the headmaster" + business. + </p> + <p> + But he reflected that he had only seen him in his leisure moments, when he + might naturally be expected to unbend and be full of the milk of human + kindness. Probably in business hours he was quite different. After all, + pleasure is one thing and business another. + </p> + <p> + Besides, five pounds is a large sum of money, and if Jellicoe owed it, + there was nothing strange in Mr. Barley's doing everything he could to + recover it. + </p> + <p> + He wondered a little what Jellicoe could have been doing to run up a bill + as big as that, but it did not occur to him to ask, which was unfortunate, + as it might have saved him a good deal of inconvenience. It seemed to him + that it was none of his business to inquire into Jellicoe's private + affairs. He took the envelope containing the money without question. + </p> + <p> + "I shall bike there, I think," he said, "if I can get into the shed." + </p> + <p> + The school's bicycles were stored in a shed by the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + "You can manage that," said Jellicoe; "it's locked up at night, but I had + a key made to fit it last summer, because I used to get out in the early + morning sometimes before it was opened." + </p> + <p> + "Got it on you?" + </p> + <p> + "Smith's got it." + </p> + <p> + "I'll get it from him." + </p> + <p> + "I say!" + </p> + <p> + "Well?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't tell Smith why you want it, will you? I don't want anybody to know—if + a thing once starts getting about it's all over the place in no time." + </p> + <p> + "All right, I won't tell him." + </p> + <p> + "I say, thanks most awfully! I don't know what I should have done, I—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, chuck it!" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 15 — ... AND FULFILLS IT + </h2> + <p> + Mike started on his ride to Lower Borlock with mixed feelings. It is + pleasant to be out on a fine night in summer, but the pleasure is to a + certain extent modified when one feels that to be detected will mean + expulsion. + </p> + <p> + Mike did not want to be expelled, for many reasons. Now that he had grown + used to the place he was enjoying himself at Sedleigh to a certain extent. + He still harbored a feeling of resentment against the school in general + and Adair in particular, but it was pleasant in Outwood's now that he had + got to know some of the members of the house, and he liked playing cricket + for Lower Borlock; also, he was fairly certain that his father would not + let him go to Cambridge if he were expelled from Sedleigh. Mr. Jackson was + easygoing with his family, but occasionally his foot came down like a + steam hammer, as witness the Wrykyn school-report affair. + </p> + <p> + So Mike pedaled along rapidly, being wishful to get the job done without + delay. + </p> + <p> + Psmith had yielded up the key, but his inquiries as to why it was needed + had been embarrassing. Mike's statement that he wanted to get up early and + have a ride had been received by Psmith, with whom early rising was not a + hobby, with honest amazement and a flood of advice and warning on the + subject. + </p> + <p> + "One of the Georges," said Psmith, "I forget which, once said that a + certain number of hours' sleep a day—I cannot recall for the moment + how many—made a man something, which for the time being has slipped + my memory. However, there you are. I've given you the main idea of the + thing; and a German doctor says that early rising causes insanity. Still, + if you're bent on it...." After which he had handed over the key. + </p> + <p> + Mike wished he could have taken Psmith into his confidence. Probably he + would have volunteered to come, too; Mike would have been glad of a + companion. + </p> + <p> + It did not take him long to reach Lower Borlock. The White Boar stood at + the far end of the village, by the cricket field. He rode past the church—standing + out black and mysterious against the light sky—and the rows of + silent cottages, until he came to the inn. + </p> + <p> + The place was shut, of course, and all the lights were out—it was + sometime past eleven. + </p> + <p> + The advantage an inn has over a private house, from the point of view of + the person who wants to get into it when it has been locked up, is that a + nocturnal visit is not so unexpected in the case of the former. + Preparations have been made to meet such an emergency. Where with a + private house you would probably have to wander around heaving rocks and + end by climbing up a waterspout, when you want to get into an inn you + simply ring the night bell, which, communicating with the boots' room, has + that hard-worked menial up and doing in no time. + </p> + <p> + After Mike had waited for a few minutes there was a rattling of chains and + a shooting of bolts and the door opened. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir?" said the boots, appearing in his shirt sleeves. "Why, 'ello! + Mr. Jackson, sir!" + </p> + <p> + Mike was well known to all dwellers in Lower Borlock, his scores being the + chief topic of conversation when the day's labors were over. + </p> + <p> + "I want to see Mr. Barley, Jack." + </p> + <p> + "He's bin' in bed this half hour back, Mr. Jackson." + </p> + <p> + "I must see him. Can you get him down?" + </p> + <p> + The boots looked doubtful. "Roust the guv'nor outer bed?" he said. + </p> + <p> + Mike quite admitted the gravity of the task. The landlord of the White + Boar was one of those men who need a beauty sleep. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you would—it's a thing that can't wait. I've got some money + to give to him." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, if it's <i>that</i> ..." said the boots. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later mine host appeared in person, looking more than usually + portly in a check dressing gown and red bedroom slippers. + </p> + <p> + "You can pop off, Jack." + </p> + <p> + Exit boots to his slumbers once more. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mr. Jackson, what's it all about?" + </p> + <p> + "Jellicoe asked me to come and bring you the money." + </p> + <p> + "The money? What money?" + </p> + <p> + "What he owes you; the five pounds, of course." + </p> + <p> + "The five—" Mr. Barley stared openmouthed at Mike for a moment; then + he broke into a roar of laughter which shook the sporting prints on the + wall and drew barks from dogs in some distant part of the house. He + staggered about laughing and coughing till Mike began to expect a fit of + some kind. Then he collapsed into a chair, which creaked under him, and + wiped his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Oh dear!" he said, "Oh dear! The five pounds!" + </p> + <p> + Mike was not always abreast of the rustic idea of humor, and now he felt + particularly fogged. For the life of him he could not see what there was + to amuse anyone so much in the fact that a person who owed five pounds was + ready to pay it back. It was an occasion for rejoicing, perhaps, but + rather for a solemn, thankful, eyes-raised-to-heaven kind of rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + "What's up?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Five pounds!" + </p> + <p> + "You might tell us the joke." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barley opened the letter, read it, and had another attack; when this + was finished he handed the letter to Mike, who was waiting patiently by, + hoping for light, and requested him to read it. + </p> + <p> + "Dear, dear!" chuckled Mr. Barley, "five pounds! They may teach you young + gentlemen to talk Latin and Greek and what-not at your school, but it 'ud + do a lot more good if they'd teach you how many beans make five; it 'ud do + a lot more good if they'd teach you to come in when it rained; it 'ud do + ..." + </p> + <p> + Mike was reading the letter. + </p> + <p> + "Dear Mr. Barley," it ran. + </p> + <p> + "I send the £5, which I could not get before. I hope it is in time, + because I don't want you to write to the headmaster. I am sorry Jane and + John ate your wife's hat and the chicken and broke the vase." + </p> + <p> + There was some more to the same effect; it was signed "T.G. Jellicoe." + </p> + <p> + "What on earth's it all about?" said Mike, finishing this curious + document. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barley slapped his leg. "Why, Mr. Jellicoe keeps two dogs here; I keep + 'em for him till the young gentlemen go home for their holidays. Aberdeen + terriers, they are, and as sharp as mustard. Mischief! I believe you, but, + love us! they don't do no harm! Bite up an old shoe sometimes and such + sort of things. The other day, last Wednesday it were, about 'ar parse + five, Jane—she's the worst of the two, always up to it, she is—she + got hold of my old hat and had it in bits before you could say knife. John + upset a china vase in one of the bedrooms chasing a mouse, and they got on + the coffee-room table and ate half a cold chicken what had been left + there. So I says to myself, 'I'll have a game with Mr. Jellicoe over + this,' and I sits down and writes off saying the little dogs have eaten a + valuable hat and a chicken and what not, and the damage'll be five pounds, + and will he kindly remit same by Saturday night at the latest or I write + to his headmaster. Love us!" Mr. Barley slapped his thigh, "he took it all + in, every word—and here's the five pounds in cash in this envelope + here! I haven't had such a laugh since we got old Tom Raxley out of bed at + twelve of a winter's night by telling him his house was afire." + </p> + <p> + It is not always easy to appreciate a joke of the practical order if one + has been made even merely part victim of it. Mike, as he reflected that he + had been dragged out of his house in the middle of the night, in + contravention of all school rules and discipline, simply in order to + satisfy Mr. Barley's sense of humor, was more inclined to be abusive than + mirthful. Running risks is all very well when they are necessary, or if + one chooses to run them for one's own amusement, but to be placed in a + dangerous position, a position imperiling one's chance of going to the + 'Varsity, is another matter altogether. + </p> + <p> + But it is impossible to abuse the Barley type of man. Barley's enjoyment + of the whole thing was so honest and childlike. Probably it had given him + the happiest quarter of an hour he had known for years, since, in fact, + the affair of old Tom Raxley. It would have been cruel to damp the man. + </p> + <p> + So Mike laughed perfunctorily, took back the envelope with the five + pounds, accepted a ginger beer and a plateful of biscuits, and rode off on + his return journey. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mention has been made above of the difference which exists between getting + into an inn after lockup and into a private house. Mike was to find this + out for himself. + </p> + <p> + His first act on arriving at Sedleigh was to replace his bicycle in the + shed. This he accomplished with success. It was pitch-dark in the shed, + and as he wheeled his machine in, his foot touched something on the floor. + 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. + </p> + <p> + Fortune had favored his undertaking by decreeing that a stout drainpipe + should pass up the wall within a few inches of his and Psmith's study. On + the first day of term, it may be remembered he had wrenched away the + wooden bar which bisected the window frame, thus rendering exit and + entrance almost as simple as they had been for Wyatt during Mike's first + term at Wrykyn. + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to scale this water pipe. + </p> + <p> + He had got about halfway up when a voice from somewhere below cried, + "Who's that?" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 16 — PURSUIT + </h2> + <p> + These things are Life's Little Difficulties. One can never tell precisely + how one will act in a sudden emergency. The right thing for Mike to have + done at this crisis was to have ignored the voice, carried on up the water + pipe, and through the study window, and gone to bed. It was extremely + unlikely that anybody could have recognized him at night against the dark + background of the house. The position then would have been that somebody + in Mr. Outwood's house had been seen breaking in after lights-out; but it + would have been very difficult for the authorities to have narrowed the + search down any further than that. There were thirty-four boys in + Outwood's, of whom about fourteen were much the same size and build as + Mike. + </p> + <p> + The suddenness, however, of the call caused Mike to lose his head. He made + the strategic error of sliding rapidly down the pipe, and running. + </p> + <p> + There were two gates to Mr. Outwood's front garden. The drive ran in a + semicircle, of which the house was the center. It was from the right-hand + gate, nearest to Mr. Downing's house, that the voice had come, and, as + Mike came to the ground, he saw a stout figure galloping toward him from + that direction. He bolted like a rabbit for the other gate. As he did so, + his pursuer again gave tongue. + </p> + <p> + "Oo-oo-oo yer!" was the exact remark. + </p> + <p> + Whereby Mike recognized him as the school sergeant. "Oo-oo-oo yer!" was + that militant gentleman's habitual way of beginning a conversation. + </p> + <p> + With this knowledge, Mike felt easier in his mind. Sergeant Collard was a + man of many fine qualities (notably a talent for what he was wont to call + "spott'n," a mysterious gift which he exercised on the rifle range), but + he could not run. There had been a time in his hot youth when he had + sprinted like an untamed mustang in pursuit of volatile Pathans in Indian + hill wars, but Time, increasing his girth, had taken from him the taste + for such exercise. When he moved now it was at a stately walk. The fact + that he ran tonight showed how the excitement of the chase had entered + into his blood. + </p> + <p> + "Oo-oo-oo yer!" he shouted again, as Mike, passing through the gate, + turned into the road that led to the school. Mike's attentive ear noted + that the bright speech was a shade more puffily delivered this time. He + began to feel that this was not such bad fun after all. He would have + liked to be in bed, but, if that was out of the question, this was + certainly the next-best thing. + </p> + <p> + He ran on, taking things easily, with the sergeant panting in his wake, + till he reached the entrance to the school grounds. He dashed in and took + cover behind a tree. + </p> + <p> + Presently the sergeant turned the corner, going badly and evidently cured + of a good deal of the fever of the chase. Mike heard him toil on for a few + yards and then stop. A sound of panting was borne to him. + </p> + <p> + Then the sound of footsteps returning, this time at a walk. They passed + the gate and went on down the road. + </p> + <p> + The pursuer had given the thing up. + </p> + <p> + Mike waited for several minutes behind his tree. His program now was + simple. He would give Sergeant Collard about half an hour, in case the + latter took it into his head to "guard home" by waiting at the gate. Then + he would trot softly back, shoot up the water pipe once more, and so to + bed. It had just struck a quarter to something—twelve, he supposed—on + the school clock. He would wait till a quarter past. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, there was nothing to be gained from lurking behind a tree. He + left his cover, and started to stroll in the direction of the pavilion. + Having arrived there, he sat on the steps, looking out onto the cricket + field. + </p> + <p> + His thoughts were miles away, at Wrykyn, when he was recalled to Sedleigh + by the sound of somebody running. Focusing his gaze, he saw a dim figure + moving rapidly across the cricket field straight for him. + </p> + <p> + His first impression, that he had been seen and followed, disappeared as + the runner, instead of making for the pavilion, turned aside, and stopped + at the door of the bicycle shed. Like Mike, he was evidently possessed of + a key, for Mike heard it grate in the lock. At this point he left the + pavilion and hailed his fellow rambler by night in a cautious undertone. + </p> + <p> + The other appeared startled. + </p> + <p> + "Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?" + </p> + <p> + Mike recognized Adair's voice. The last person he would have expected to + meet at midnight obviously on the point of going for a bicycle ride. + </p> + <p> + "What are you doing out here. Jackson?" + </p> + <p> + "What are you, if it comes to that?" + </p> + <p> + Adair was adjusting his front light. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad." + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" + </p> + <p> + "What are you doing out here?" + </p> + <p> + "Just been for a stroll." + </p> + <p> + "Hadn't you better be getting back?" + </p> + <p> + "Plenty of time." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you think you're doing something tremendously brave and + dashing?" + </p> + <p> + "Hadn't you better be going to the doctor?" + </p> + <p> + "If you want to know what I think—" + </p> + <p> + "I don't. So long." + </p> + <p> + Mike turned away, whistling between his teeth. After a moment's pause, + Adair rode off. Mike saw his light pass across the field and through the + gate. The school clock struck the quarter. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Mike that Sergeant Collard, even if he had started to wait + for him at the house, would not keep up the vigil for more than half an + hour. He would be safe now in trying for home again. + </p> + <p> + He walked in that direction. + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that Mr. Downing, aroused from his first sleep by the + news, conveyed to him by Adair, that MacPhee, one of the junior members of + Adair's dormitory, was groaning and exhibiting other symptoms of acute + illness, was disturbed in his mind. Most housemasters feel uneasy in the + event of illness in their houses, and Mr. Downing was apt to get jumpy + beyond the ordinary on such occasions. All that was wrong with MacPhee, as + a matter of fact, was a very fair stomachache, the direct and legitimate + result of eating six buns, half a coconut, three doughnuts, two ices, an + apple, and a pound of cherries, and washing the lot down with tea. But Mr. + Downing saw in his attack the beginnings of some deadly scourge which + would sweep through and decimate the house. He had dispatched Adair for + the doctor, and, after spending a few minutes prowling restlessly about + his room, was now standing at his front gate, waiting for Adair's return. + </p> + <p> + It came about, therefore, that Mike, sprinting lightly in the direction of + home and safety, had his already shaken nerves further maltreated by being + hailed, at a range of about two yards, with a cry of "Is that you, Adair?" + The next moment Mr. Downing emerged from his gate. + </p> + <p> + Mike stood not upon the order of his going. He was off like an arrow—a + flying figure of Guilt. Mr. Downing, after the first surprise, seemed to + grasp the situation. Ejaculating at intervals the words, "Who is that? + Stop! Who is that? Stop!" he dashed after the much-enduring Wrykynian at + an extremely creditable rate of speed. Mr. Downing was by way of being a + sprinter. He had won handicap events at College sports at Oxford, and, if + Mike had not got such a good start, the race might have been over in the + first fifty yards. As it was, that victim of Fate, going well, kept ahead. + At the entrance to the school grounds he led by a dozen yards. The + procession passed into the field, Mike heading as before for the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + As they raced across the soft turf, an idea occurred to Mike, which he was + accustomed in after years to attribute to genius, the one flash of it + which had ever illumined his life. + </p> + <p> + It was this. + </p> + <p> + One of Mr. Downing's first acts, on starting the Fire Brigade at Sedleigh, + had been to institute an alarm bell. It had been rubbed into the school + officially—in speeches from the dais—by the headmaster, and + unofficially—in earnest private conversations—by Mr. Downing, + that at the sound of this bell, at whatever hour of day or night, every + member of the school must leave his house in the quickest possible way, + and make for the open. The bell might mean that the school was on fire, or + it might mean that one of the houses was on fire. In any case, the school + had its orders—to get out into the open at once. + </p> + <p> + Nor must it be supposed that the school was without practice at this feat. + Every now and then a notice would be found posted up on the board to the + effect that there would be fire drill during the dinner hour that day. + Sometimes the performance was bright and interesting, as on the occasion + when Mr. Downing, marshaling the brigade at his front gate, had said, "My + house is supposed to be on fire. Now let's do a record!" which the + Brigade, headed by Stone and Robinson, obligingly did. They fastened the + hose to the hydrant, smashed a window on the ground floor (Mr. Downing + having retired for a moment to talk with the headmaster), and poured a + stream of water into the room. When Mr. Downing was at liberty to turn his + attention to the matter, he found that the room selected was his private + study, most of the light furniture of which was floating in a miniature + lake. That episode had rather discouraged his passion for realism, and + fire drill since then had taken the form, for the most part, of + "practicing escaping." This was done by means of canvas chutes, kept in + the dormitories. At the sound of the bell the prefect of the dormitory + would heave one end of the chute out of the window, the other end being + fastened to the sill. He would then go down it himself, using his elbows + as a brake. Then the second man would follow his example, and these two, + standing below, would hold the end of the chute so that the rest of the + dormitory could fly rapidly down it without injury, except to their + digestions. + </p> + <p> + After the first novelty of the thing had worn off, the school had taken a + rooted dislike to fire drill. It was a matter for self-congratulation + among them that Mr. Downing had never been able to induce the headmaster + to allow the alarm bell to be sounded for fire drill at night. The + headmaster, a man who had his views on the amount of sleep necessary for + the growing boy, had drawn the line at night operations. "Sufficient unto + the day" had been the gist of his reply. If the alarm bell were to ring at + night when there was no fire, the school might mistake a genuine alarm of + fire for a bogus one, and refuse to hurry themselves. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Downing had had to be content with day drill. + </p> + <p> + The alarm bell hung in the archway, leading into the school grounds. The + end of the rope, when not in use, was fastened to a hook halfway up the + wall. + </p> + <p> + Mike, as he raced over the cricket field, made up his mind in a flash that + his only chance of getting out of this tangle was to shake his pursuer off + for a space of time long enough to enable him to get to the rope and tug + it. Then the school would come out. He would mix with them, and in the + subsequent confusion get back to bed unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + The task was easier than it would have seemed at the beginning of the + chase. Mr. Downing, owing to the two facts that he was not in the + strictest training, and that it is only a Bannister who can run for any + length of time at top speed shouting "Who is that? Stop! Who is that? + Stop!" was beginning to feel distressed. There were bellows to mend in the + Downing camp. Mike perceived this, and forced the pace. He rounded the + pavilion ten yards to the good. Then, heading for the gate, he put all he + knew into one last sprint. Mr. Downing was not equal to the effort. He + worked gamely for a few strides, then fell behind. When Mike reached the + gate, a good forty yards separated them. + </p> + <p> + As far as Mike could judge—he was not in a condition to make nice + calculations—he had about four seconds in which to get busy with + that bell rope. + </p> + <p> + Probably nobody has ever crammed more energetic work into four seconds + than he did then. + </p> + <p> + The night was as still as only an English summer night can be, and the + first clang of the clapper sounded like a million iron girders falling + from a height onto a sheet of tin. He tugged away furiously, with an eye + on the now rapidly advancing and loudly shouting figure of the + housemaster. + </p> + <p> + And from the darkened house beyond there came a gradually swelling hum, as + if a vast hive of bees had been disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The school was awake. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 17 — THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + </h2> + <p> + Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece in the senior day room at Outwood's—since + Mike's innings against Downing's the Lost Lambs had been received as + brothers by the center of disorder, so that even Spiller was compelled to + look on the hatchet as buried—and gave his views on the events of + the preceding night, or, rather, of that morning, for it was nearer one + than twelve when peace had once more fallen on the school. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing that happens in this loony bin," said Psmith, "has power to + surprise me now. There was a time when I might have thought it a little + unusual to have to leave the house through a canvas chute at one o'clock + in the morning, but I suppose it's quite the regular thing here. Old + school tradition, etc. Men leave the school, and find that they've got so + accustomed to jumping out of windows that they look on it as a sort of + affectation to go out by the door. I suppose none of you merchants can + give me any idea when the next knockabout entertainment of this kind is + likely to take place?" + </p> + <p> + "I wonder who rang that bell!" said Stone. "Jolly sporting idea." + </p> + <p> + "I believe it was Downing himself. If it was, I hope he's satisfied." + </p> + <p> + Jellicoe, who was appearing in society supported by a stick, looked + meaningly at Mike, and giggled, receiving in answer a stony stare. Mike + had informed Jellicoe of the details of his interview with Mr. Barley at + the White Boar, and Jellicoe, after a momentary splutter of wrath against + the practical joker, was now in a particular lighthearted mood. He hobbled + about, giggling at nothing and at peace with all the world. + </p> + <p> + "It was a stirring scene," said Psmith. "The agility with which Comrade + Jellicoe boosted himself down the chute was a triumph of mind over matter. + He seemed to forget his ankle. It was the nearest thing to a Boneless + Acrobatic Wonder that I have ever seen." + </p> + <p> + "I was in a beastly funk, I can tell you." + </p> + <p> + Stone gurgled. + </p> + <p> + "So was I," he said, "for a bit. Then, when I saw that it was all a rag, I + began to look about for ways of doing the thing really well. I emptied + about six jugs of water on a gang of kids under my window." + </p> + <p> + "I rushed into Downing's, and ragged some of the beds," said Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "It was an invigorating time," said Psmith. "A sort of pageant. I was + particularly struck with the way some of the bright lads caught hold of + the idea. There was no skimping. Some of the kids, to my certain + knowledge, went down the chute a dozen times. There's nothing like doing a + thing thoroughly. I saw them come down, rush upstairs, and be saved again, + time after time. The thing became chronic with them. I should say Comrade + Downing ought to be satisfied with the high state of efficiency to which + he has brought us. At any rate I hope—" + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of hurried footsteps outside the door, and Sharpe, a + member of the senior day room, burst excitedly in. He seemed amused. + </p> + <p> + "I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?" + </p> + <p> + "Seen who?" said Stone. "Sammy? Why?" + </p> + <p> + "You'll know in a second. He's just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy! + Sam! Sam!" + </p> + <p> + A bark and a patter of feet outside. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, Sammy. Good dog." + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence. Then a great yell of laughter burst forth. + Even Psmith's massive calm was shattered. As for Jellicoe, he sobbed in a + corner. + </p> + <p> + Sammy's beautiful white coat was almost entirely concealed by a thick + covering of bright-red paint. His head, with the exception of the ears, + was untouched, and his serious, friendly eyes seemed to emphasise the + weirdness of his appearance. He stood in the doorway, barking and wagging + his tail, plainly puzzled at his reception. He was a popular dog, and was + always well received when he visited any of the houses, but he had never + before met with enthusiasm like this. + </p> + <p> + "Good old Sammy!" + </p> + <p> + "What on earth's been happening to him?" + </p> + <p> + "Who did it?" + </p> + <p> + Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter. + </p> + <p> + "I found him outside Downing's, with a crowd round him. Everybody seems to + have seen him. I wonder who on earth has gone and mucked him up like + that!" + </p> + <p> + Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated animal. + </p> + <p> + "Poor old Sammy," he said, kneeling on the floor beside the victim, and + scratching him under the ear. "What a beastly shame! It'll take hours to + wash all that off him, and he'll hate it." + </p> + <p> + "It seems to me," said Psmith, regarding Sammy dispassionately through his + eyeglass, "that it's not a case for mere washing. They'll either have to + skin him bodily, or leave the thing to time. Time, the Great Healer. In a + year or two he'll fade to a delicate pink. I don't see why you shouldn't + have a pink bull terrier. It would lend a touch of distinction to the + place. Crowds would come in excursion trains to see him. By charging a + small fee you might make him self-supporting. I think I'll suggest it to + Comrade Downing." + </p> + <p> + "There'll be a row about this," said Stone. + </p> + <p> + "Rows are rather sport when you're not mixed up in them," said Robinson, + philosophically. "There'll be another if we don't start off for chapel + soon. It's a quarter to." + </p> + <p> + There was a general move. Mike was the last to leave the room. As he was + going, Jellicoe stopped him. Jellicoe was staying in that Sunday, owing to + his ankle. + </p> + <p> + "I say," said Jellicoe, "I just wanted to thank you again about that—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that's all right." + </p> + <p> + "No, but it really was awfully decent of you. You might have got into a + frightful row. Were you nearly caught?" + </p> + <p> + "Jolly nearly." + </p> + <p> + "It <i>was</i> you who rang the bell, wasn't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it was. But for goodness' sake don't go gassing about it, or + somebody will get to hear who oughtn't to, and I shall be sacked." + </p> + <p> + "All right. But, I say, you <i>are</i> a chap!" + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter now?" + </p> + <p> + "I mean about Sammy, you know. It's a jolly good score off old Downing. + He'll be frightfully sick." + </p> + <p> + "Sammy!" cried Mike. "My good man, you don't think I did that, do you? + What absolute rot! I never touched the poor brute." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, all right," said Jellicoe. "But I wasn't going to tell anyone, of + course." + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i> a chap!" giggled Jellicoe. + </p> + <p> + Mike walked to chapel rather thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 18 — MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + </h2> + <p> + There was just one moment, the moment in which, on going down to the + junior day room of his house to quell an unseemly disturbance, he was + boisterously greeted by a vermilion bull terrier, when Mr. Downing was + seized with a hideous fear lest he had lost his senses. Glaring down at + the crimson animal that was pawing at his knees, he clutched at his reason + for one second as a drowning man clutches at a life belt. + </p> + <p> + Then the happy laughter of the young onlookers reassured him. + </p> + <p> + "Who—" he shouted, "WHO has done this?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, we don't know," shrilled the chorus. + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, he came in like that." + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, we were sitting here when he suddenly ran in, all red." + </p> + <p> + A voice from the crowd: "Look at old Sammy!" + </p> + <p> + The situation was impossible. There was nothing to be done. He could not + find out by verbal inquiry who had painted the dog. The possibility of + Sammy being painted red during the night had never occurred to Mr. + Downing, and now that the thing had happened he had no scheme of action. + As Psmith would have said, he had confused the unusual with the + impossible, and the result was that he was taken by surprise. + </p> + <p> + While he was pondering on this, the situation was rendered still more + difficult by Sammy, who, taking advantage of the door being open, escaped + and rushed into the road, thus publishing his condition to all and sundry. + You can hush up a painted dog while it confines itself to your own + premises, but once it has mixed with the great public, this becomes out of + the question. Sammy's state advanced from a private trouble into a row. + Mr. Downing's next move was in the same direction that Sammy had taken, + only, instead of running about the road, he went straight to the + headmaster. + </p> + <p> + The Head, who had had to leave his house in the small hours in his pajamas + and a dressing gown, was not in the best of tempers. He had a cold in the + head, and also a rooted conviction that Mr. Downing, in spite of his + strict orders, had rung the bell himself on the previous night in order to + test the efficiency of the school in saving themselves in the event of + fire. He received the housemaster frostily, but thawed as the latter + related the events which had led up to the ringing of the bell. + </p> + <p> + "Dear me!" he said, deeply interested. "One of the boys at the school, you + think?" + </p> + <p> + "I am certain of it," said Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Was he wearing a school cap?" + </p> + <p> + "He was bareheaded. A boy who breaks out of his house at night would + hardly run the risk of wearing a distinguishing cap." + </p> + <p> + "No, no, I suppose not. A big boy, you say?" + </p> + <p> + "Very big." + </p> + <p> + "You did not see his face?" + </p> + <p> + "It was dark and he never looked back—he was in front of me all the + time." + </p> + <p> + "Dear me!" + </p> + <p> + "There is another matter ..." + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" + </p> + <p> + "This boy, whoever he was, had done something before he rang the bell—he + had painted my dog Sampson red." + </p> + <p> + The headmaster's eyes protruded from their sockets. "He—he—<i>what</i>, + Mr. Downing?" + </p> + <p> + "He painted my dog red—bright red." Mr. Downing was too angry to see + anything humorous in the incident. Since the previous night he had been + wounded in his tenderest feelings, his Fire Brigade system had been most + shamefully abused by being turned into a mere instrument in the hands of a + malefactor for escaping justice, and his dog had been held up to ridicule + to all the world. He did not want to smile; he wanted revenge. + </p> + <p> + The headmaster, on the other hand, did want to smile. It was not his dog, + he could look on the affair with an unbiased eye, and to him there was + something ludicrous in a white dog suddenly appearing as a red dog. + </p> + <p> + "It is a scandalous thing!" said Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Quite so! Quite so!" said the headmaster hastily. "I shall punish the boy + who did it most severely. I will speak to the school in the Hall after + chapel." + </p> + <p> + Which he did, but without result. A cordial invitation to the criminal to + come forward and be executed was received in wooden silence by the school, + with the exception of Johnson III, of Outwood's, who, suddenly reminded of + Sammy's appearance by the headmaster's words, broke into a wild screech of + laughter, and was instantly awarded two hundred lines. + </p> + <p> + The school filed out of the Hall to their various lunches, and Mr. Downing + was left with the conviction that, if he wanted the criminal discovered, + he would have to discover him for himself. + </p> + <p> + The great thing in affairs of this kind is to get a good start, and Fate, + feeling perhaps that it had been a little hard upon Mr. Downing, gave him + a most magnificent start. Instead of having to hunt for a needle in a + haystack, he found himself in a moment in the position of being set to + find it in a mere truss of straw. + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Outwood who helped him. Sergeant Collard had waylaid the + archaeological expert on his way to chapel, and informed him that at close + on twelve the night before he had observed a youth, unidentified, + attempting to get into his house <i>via</i> the water pipe. Mr. Outwood, + whose thoughts were occupied with apses and plinths, not to mention + cromlechs, at the time, thanked the sergeant with absent minded politeness + and passed on. Later he remembered the fact apropos of some reflections on + the subject of burglars in medieval England, and passed it on to Mr. + Downing as they walked back to lunch. + </p> + <p> + "Then the boy was in your house!" exclaimed Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Not actually in, as far as I understand. I gather from the sergeant that + he interrupted him before—" + </p> + <p> + "I mean he must have been one of the boys in your house." + </p> + <p> + "But what was he doing out at that hour?" + </p> + <p> + "He had broken out." + </p> + <p> + "Impossible, I think. Oh yes, quite impossible! I went around the + dormitories as usual at eleven o'clock last night, and all the boys were + asleep—all of them." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was not listening. He was in a state of suppressed excitement + and exultation, which made it hard for him to attend to his colleague's + slow utterances. He had a clue! Now that the search had narrowed itself + down to Outwood's house, the rest was comparatively easy. Perhaps Sergeant + Collard had actually recognized the boy. On reflection he dismissed this + as unlikely, for the sergeant would scarcely have kept a thing like that + to himself; but he might very well have seen more of him than he, Downing, + had seen. It was only with an effort that he could keep himself from + rushing to the sergeant then and there, and leaving the house lunch to + look after itself. He resolved to go the moment that meal was at an end. + </p> + <p> + Sunday lunch at a public-school house is probably one of the longest + functions in existence. It drags its slow length along like a languid + snake, but it finishes in time. In due course Mr. Downing, after sitting + still and eyeing with acute dislike everybody who asked for a second + helping, found himself at liberty. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the claims of digestion, he rushed forth on the trail. + </p> + <p> + Sergeant Collard lived with his wife and a family of unknown dimensions in + the lodge at the school front gate. Dinner was just over when Mr. Downing + arrived, as a blind man could have told. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant received his visitor with dignity, ejecting the family, who + were torpid after roast beef and resented having to move, in order to + ensure privacy. + </p> + <p> + Having requested his host to smoke, which the latter was about to do + unasked, Mr. Downing stated his case. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Outwood," he said, "tells me that last night, Sergeant, you saw a boy + endeavoring to enter his house." + </p> + <p> + The sergeant blew a cloud of smoke. "Oo-oo-oo, yer," he said; "I did, sir—spotted + 'im, I did. Feeflee good at spottin', I am, sir. Dook of Connaught, he + used to say, ''Ere comes Sergeant Collard,' 'e used to say, ''e's feeflee + good at spottin'.'" + </p> + <p> + "What did you do?" + </p> + <p> + "Do? Oo-oo-oo! I shouts 'Oo-oo-oo yer, yer young monkey, what yer doin' + there?'" + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" + </p> + <p> + "But 'e was off in a flash, and I doubles after 'im prompt." + </p> + <p> + "But you didn't catch him?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir," admitted the sergeant reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + "Did you catch sight of his face, Sergeant?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir, 'e was doublin' away in the opposite direction." + </p> + <p> + "Did you notice anything at all about his appearance?" + </p> + <p> + "'E was a long young chap, sir, with a pair of legs on him—feeflee + fast 'e run, sir. Oo-oo-oo, feeflee!" + </p> + <p> + "You noticed nothing else?" + </p> + <p> + "'E wasn't wearing no cap of any sort, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" + </p> + <p> + "Bare'eaded, sir," added the sergeant, rubbing the point in. + </p> + <p> + "It was undoubtedly the same boy, undoubtedly! I wish you could have + caught a glimpse of his face, Sergeant." + </p> + <p> + "So do I, sir." + </p> + <p> + "You would not be able to recognize him again if you saw him, you think?" + </p> + <p> + "Oo-oo-oo! Wouldn't go as far as to say that, sir, 'cos yer see, I'm + feeflee good at spottin', but it was a dark night." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing rose to go. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, "the search is now considerably narrowed down, + considerably! It is certain that the boy was one of the boys in Mr. + Outwood's house." + </p> + <p> + "Young monkeys!" interjected the sergeant helpfully + </p> + <p> + "Good afternoon, Sergeant." + </p> + <p> + "Good afternoon to you, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Pray do not move, Sergeant." + </p> + <p> + The sergeant had not shown the slightest inclination of doing anything of + the kind. + </p> + <p> + "I will find my way out. Very hot today, is it not?" + </p> + <p> + "Feeflee warm, sir; weather's goin' to break' workin' up for thunder." + </p> + <p> + "I hope not. The school plays the M.C.C. on Wednesday, and it would be a + pity if rain were to spoil our first fixture with them. Good afternoon." + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Downing went out into the baking sunlight, while Sergeant Collard, + having requested Mrs. Collard to take the children out for a walk at once, + and furthermore to give young Ernie a clip side of the 'ead, if he + persisted in making so much noise, put a handkerchief over his face, + rested his feet on the table, and slept the sleep of the just. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 19 — THE SLEUTH-HOUND + </h2> + <p> + For the Doctor Watsons of this world, as opposed to the Sherlock Holmeses, + success in the province of detective work must be, to a very large extent, + the result of luck. Sherlock Holmes can extract a clue from a wisp of + straw or a flake of cigar ash. But Doctor Watson has got to have it taken + out for him, and dusted, and exhibited clearly, with a label attached. + </p> + <p> + The average man is a Doctor Watson. We are wont to scoff in a patronizing + manner at that humbler follower of the great investigator, but, as a + matter of fact, we should have been just as dull ourselves. We should not + even have risen to the modest level of a Scotland Yard bungler. We should + simply have hung around, saying: "My dear Holmes, how...?" and all the + rest of it, just as the downtrodden medico did. + </p> + <p> + It is not often that the ordinary person has any need to see what he can + do in the way of detection. He gets along very comfortably in the humdrum + round of life without having to measure footprints and smile quiet, + tight-lipped smiles. But if ever the emergency does arise, he thinks + naturally of Sherlock Holmes, and his methods. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing had read all the Holmes stories with great attention, and had + thought many times what an incompetent ass Doctor Watson was; but, now + that he had started to handle his own first case, he was compelled to + admit that there was a good deal to be said in extenuation of Watson's + inability to unravel tangles. It certainly was uncommonly hard, he + thought, as he paced the cricket field after leaving Sergeant Collard, to + detect anybody, unless you knew who had really done the crime. As he + brooded over the case in hand, his sympathy for Doctor Watson increased + with every minute, and he began to feel a certain resentment against Sir + Arthur Conan Doyle. It was all very well for Sir Arthur to be so shrewd + and infallible about tracing a mystery to its source, but he knew + perfectly well who had done the thing before he started! + </p> + <p> + Now that he began really to look into this matter of the alarm bell and + the painting of Sammy, the conviction was creeping over him that the + problem was more difficult than a casual observer might imagine. He had + got as far as finding that his quarry of the previous night was a boy in + Mr. Outwood's house, but how was he to get any further? That was the + thing. There was, of course, only a limited number of boys in Mr. + Outwood's house as tall as the one he had pursued; but even if there had + been only one other, it would have complicated matters. If you go to a boy + and say, "Either you or Jones were out of your house last night at twelve + o'clock," the boy does not reply, "Sir, I cannot tell a lie—I was + out of my house last night at twelve o'clock." He simply assumes the + animated expression of a stuffed fish, and leaves the next move to you. It + is practically stalemate. + </p> + <p> + All these things passed through Mr. Downing's mind as he walked up and + down the cricket field that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + What he wanted was a clue. But it is so hard for the novice to tell what + is a clue and what isn't. Probably, if he only knew, there were clues + lying all over the place, shouting to him to pick them up. + </p> + <p> + What with the oppressive heat of the day and the fatigue of hard thinking, + Mr. Downing was working up for a brainstorm when Fate once more + intervened, this time in the shape of Riglett, a junior member of his + house. + </p> + <p> + Riglett slunk up in the shamefaced way peculiar to some boys, even when + they have done nothing wrong, and, having "capped" Mr. Downing with the + air of one who had been caught in the act of doing something particularly + shady, requested that he might be allowed to fetch his bicycle from the + shed. + </p> + <p> + "Your bicycle?" snapped Mr. Downing. Much thinking had made him irritable. + "What do you want with your bicycle?" + </p> + <p> + Riglett shuffled, stood first on his left foot, then on his right, + blushed, and finally remarked, as if it were not so much a sound reason as + a sort of feeble excuse for the low and blackguardly fact that he wanted + his bicycle, that he had got leave for tea that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Downing remembered. Riglett had an aunt resident about three + miles from the school, whom he was accustomed to visit occasionally on + Sunday afternoons during the term. + </p> + <p> + He felt for his bunch of keys, and made his way to the shed, Riglett + shambling behind at an interval of two yards. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing unlocked the door, and there on the floor was the Clue! + </p> + <p> + A clue that even Doctor Watson could not have overlooked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing saw it, but did not immediately recognize it for what it was. + What he saw at first was not a clue, but just a mess. He had a tidy soul + and abhorred messes. And this was a particularly messy mess. The greater + part of the flooring in the neighborhood of the door was a sea of red + paint. The tin from which it had flowed was lying on its side in the + middle of the shed. The air was full of the pungent scent. + </p> + <p> + "Pah!" said Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly, beneath the disguise of the mess, he saw the clue. A + footmark! No less. A crimson footmark on the gray concrete! + </p> + <p> + Riglett, who had been waiting patiently two yards away, now coughed + plaintively. The sound recalled Mr. Downing to mundane matters. + </p> + <p> + "Get your bicycle, Riglett," he said, "and be careful where you tread. + Somebody has upset a pot of paint on the floor." + </p> + <p> + Riglett, walking delicately through dry places, extracted his bicycle from + the rack, and presently departed to gladden the heart of his aunt, leaving + Mr. Downing, his brain fizzing with the enthusiasm of the detective, to + lock the door and resume his perambulation of the cricket field. + </p> + <p> + Give Doctor Watson a fair start, and he is a demon at the game. Mr. + Downing's brain was now working with a rapidity and clearness which a + professional sleuth might have envied. + </p> + <p> + Paint. Red paint. Obviously the same paint with which Sammy had been + decorated. A footmark. Whose footmark? Plainly that of the criminal who + had done the deed of decoration. + </p> + <p> + Yoicks! + </p> + <p> + There were two things, however, to be considered. Your careful detective + must consider everything. In the first place, the paint might have been + upset by the groundsman. It was the groundsman's paint. He had been giving + a fresh coating to the woodwork in front of the pavilion scoring box at + the conclusion of yesterday's match. (A labor of love which was the direct + outcome of the enthusiasm for work which Adair had instilled into him.) In + that case the footmark might be his. + </p> + <p> + <i>Note one</i>: Interview the groundsman on this point. + </p> + <p> + In the second place Adair might have upset the tin and trodden in its + contents when he went to get his bicycle in order to fetch the doctor for + the suffering MacPhee. This was the more probable of the two + contingencies, for it would have been dark in the shed when Adair went + into it. + </p> + <p> + <i>Note two</i>: Interview Adair as to whether he found, on returning to + the house, that there was paint on his shoes. + </p> + <p> + Things were moving. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + He resolved to take Adair first. He could get the groundsman's address + from him. + </p> + <p> + Passing by the trees under whose shade Mike and Psmith and Dunster had + watched the match on the previous day, he came upon the Head of his house + in a deck chair reading a book. A summer Sunday afternoon is the time for + reading in deck chairs. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Adair," he said. "No, don't get up. I merely wished to ask you if you + found any paint on your shoes when you returned to the house last night." + </p> + <p> + "Paint, sir?" Adair was plainly puzzled. His book had been interesting, + and had driven the Sammy incident out of his head. + </p> + <p> + "I see somebody has spilled some paint on the floor of the bicycle shed. + You did not do that, I suppose, when you went to fetch your bicycle?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir." + </p> + <p> + "It is spilled all over the floor. I wondered whether you had happened to + tread in it. But you say you found no paint on your shoes this morning?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir, my bicycle is always quite near the door of the shed. I didn't + go into the shed at all." + </p> + <p> + "I see. Quite so. Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where does + Markby live?" + </p> + <p> + "I forget the name of his cottage, sir, but I could show you in a second. + It's one of those cottages just past the school gates, on the right as you + turn out into the road. There are three in a row. His is the first you + come to. There's a barn just before you get to them." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you. I shall be able to find them. I should like to speak to Markby + for a moment on a small matter." + </p> + <p> + A sharp walk took him to the cottages Adair had mentioned. He rapped at + the door of the first, and the groundsman came out in his shirt sleeves, + blinking as if he had just waked up, as was indeed the case. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Markby!" + </p> + <p> + "Sir?" + </p> + <p> + "You remember that you were painting the scoring box in the pavilion last + night after the match?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. It wanted a lick of paint bad. The young gentlemen will + scramble about and get through the window. Makes it look shabby, sir. So I + thought I'd better give it a coating so as to look shipshape when the + Marylebone come down." + </p> + <p> + "Just so. An excellent idea. Tell me, Markby, what did you do with the pot + of paint when you had finished?" + </p> + <p> + "Put it in the bicycle shed, sir." + </p> + <p> + "On the floor?" + </p> + <p> + "On the floor, sir? No. On the shelf at the far end, with the can of + whitening what I use for marking out the wickets, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Of course, yes. Quite so. Just as I thought." + </p> + <p> + "Do you want it, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "No, thank you, Markby, no, thank you. The fact is, somebody who had no + business to do so has moved the pot of paint from the shelf to the floor, + with the result that it has been kicked over and spilled. You had better + get some more tomorrow. Thank you, Markby. That is all I wished to know." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing walked back to the school thoroughly excited. He was hot on + the scent now. The only other possible theories had been tested and + successfully exploded. The thing had become simple to a degree. All he had + to do was to go to Mr. Outwood's house—the idea of searching a + fellow master's house did not appear to him at all a delicate task; + somehow one grew unconsciously to feel that Mr. Outwood did not really + exist as a man capable of resenting liberties—find the + paint-splashed shoe, ascertain its owner, and denounce him to the + headmaster. There could be no doubt that a paint-splashed shoe must be in + Mr. Outwood's house somewhere. A boy cannot tread in a pool of paint + without showing some signs of having done so. It was Sunday, too, so that + the shoe would not yet have been cleaned. Yoicks! Also tally-ho! This + really was beginning to be something like business. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the heat, the sleuth-hound hurried across to Outwood's as + fast as he could walk. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 20 — A CHECK + </h2> + <p> + The only two members of the house not out in the grounds when he arrived + were Mike and Psmith. They were standing on the gravel drive in front of + the boys' entrance. Mike had a deck chair in one hand and a book in the + other. Psmith—for even the greatest minds will sometimes unbend—was + wrestling with a Yo-Yo. That is to say, he was trying without success to + keep the spool spinning. He smoothed a crease out of his waistcoat and + tried again. He had just succeeded in getting the thing to spin when Mr. + Downing arrived. The sound of his footsteps disturbed Psmith and brought + the effort to nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Enough of this spoolery," said he, flinging the spool through the open + window of the senior day room. "I was an ass ever to try it. The + philosophical mind needs complete repose in its hours of leisure. Hello!" + </p> + <p> + He stared after the sleuth-hound, who had just entered the house. + </p> + <p> + "What the dickens," said Mike, "does he mean by barging in as if he'd + bought the place?" + </p> + <p> + "Comrade Downing looks pleased with himself. What brings him around in + this direction, I wonder! Still, no matter. The few articles which he may + sneak from our study are of inconsiderable value. He is welcome to them. + Do you feel inclined to wait awhile till I have fetched a chair and book?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll be going on. I shall be under the trees at the far end of the + ground." + </p> + <p> + "'Tis well. I will be with you in about two ticks." + </p> + <p> + Mike walked on toward the field, and Psmith, strolling upstairs to fetch + his novel, found Mr. Downing standing in the passage with the air of one + who has lost his bearings. + </p> + <p> + "A warm afternoon, sir," murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed. + </p> + <p> + "Er—Smith!" + </p> + <p> + "Sir?" + </p> + <p> + "I—er—wish to go round the dormitories." + </p> + <p> + It was Psmith's guiding rule in life never to be surprised at anything, so + he merely inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "I should be glad if you would fetch the keys and show me where the rooms + are." + </p> + <p> + "With acute pleasure, sir," said Psmith. "Or shall I fetch Mr. Outwood, + sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Do as I tell you Smith," snapped Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + Psmith said no more, but went down to the matron's room. The matron being + out, he abstracted the bunch of keys from her table and rejoined the + master. + </p> + <p> + "Shall I lead the way, sir?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing nodded. + </p> + <p> + "Here, sir," said Psmith, opening the door, "we have Barnes's dormitory. + An airy room, constructed on the soundest hygienic principles. Each boy, I + understand, has quite a considerable number of cubic feet of air all to + himself. It is Mr. Outwood's boast that no boy has ever asked for a cubic + foot of air in vain. He argues justly—" + </p> + <p> + He broke off abruptly and began to watch the other's maneuvers in silence. + Mr. Downing was peering rapidly beneath each bed in turn. + </p> + <p> + "Are you looking for Barnes, sir?" inquired Psmith politely. "I think he's + out in the field." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing rose, having examined the last bed, crimson in the face with + the exercise. + </p> + <p> + "Show me the next dormitory, Smith," he said, panting slightly. + </p> + <p> + "This," said Psmith, opening the next door and sinking his voice to an + awed whisper, "is where <i>I</i> sleep!" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing glanced swiftly beneath the three beds. + </p> + <p> + "Excuse me, sir," said Psmith, "but are we chasing anything?" + </p> + <p> + "Be good enough, Smith," said Mr. Downing with asperity, "to keep your + remarks to yourself." + </p> + <p> + "I was only wondering sir. Shall I show you the next in order?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly." + </p> + <p> + They moved on up the passage. + </p> + <p> + Drawing blank at the last dormitory, Mr. Downing paused, baffled. Psmith + waited patiently by. An idea struck the master. + </p> + <p> + "The studies, Smith," he cried. + </p> + <p> + "Aha!" said Psmith. "I beg your pardon, sir. The observation escaped me + unawares. The frenzy of the chase is beginning to enter into my blood. + Here we have—" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing stopped short. + </p> + <p> + "Is this impertinence studied, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "Ferguson's study, sir? No, sir. That's farther down the passage. This is + Barnes's." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing looked at him closely. Psmith's face was wooden in its + gravity. The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on. + </p> + <p> + "Whose is this?" he asked, rapping a door. + </p> + <p> + "This, sir, is mine and Jackson's." + </p> + <p> + "What! Have you a study? You are low down in the school for it." + </p> + <p> + "I think, sir, that Mr. Outwood gave it us rather as a testimonial to our + general worth than to our proficiency in schoolwork." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing raked the room with a keen eye. The absence of bars from the + window attracted his attention. + </p> + <p> + "Have you no bars to your windows here, such as there are in my house?" + </p> + <p> + "There appears to be no bar, sir," said Psmith, putting up his eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was leaning out of the window. + </p> + <p> + "A lovely view, is it not, sir?" said Psmith. "The trees, the field, the + distant hills ..." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing suddenly started. His eye had been caught by the water pipe at + the side of the window. The boy whom Sergeant Collard had seen climbing + the pipe must have been making for this study. + </p> + <p> + He spun around and met Psmith's blandly inquiring gaze. He looked at + Psmith carefully for a moment. No. The boy he had chased last night had + not been Psmith. That exquisite's figure and general appearance were + unmistakable, even in the dusk. + </p> + <p> + "Whom did you say you shared this study with, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "Jackson, sir. The cricketer." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind about his cricket, Smith," said Mr. Downing with irritation. + </p> + <p> + "No, sir." + </p> + <p> + "He is the only other occupant of the room?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Nobody else comes into it?" + </p> + <p> + "If they do, they go out extremely quickly, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Ah! Thank you, Smith." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing pondered. Jackson! The boy bore him a grudge. The boy was + precisely the sort of boy to revenge himself by painting the dog Sammy. + And, gadzooks! The boy whom he had pursued last night had been just about + Jackson's size and build! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was as firmly convinced at that moment that Mike's had been + the hand to wield the paintbrush as he had ever been of anything in his + life. + </p> + <p> + "Smith!" he said excitedly. + </p> + <p> + "On the spot, sir," said Psmith affably. + </p> + <p> + "Where are Jackson's shoes?" + </p> + <p> + There are moments when the giddy excitement of being right on the trail + causes the amateur (or Watsonian) detective to be incautious. Such a + moment came to Mr. Downing then. If he had been wise, he would have + achieved his object, the getting a glimpse of Mike's shoes, by a devious + and snaky route. As it was, he rushed straight on. + </p> + <p> + "His shoes, sir? He has them on. I noticed them as he went out just now." + </p> + <p> + "Where is the pair he wore yesterday?" + </p> + <p> + "Where are the shoes of yesteryear?" murmured Psmith to himself. "I should + say at a venture, sir, that they would be in the basket, downstairs. + Edmund, our genial knife-and-boot boy, collects them, I believe, at early + dawn." + </p> + <p> + "Would they have been cleaned yet?" + </p> + <p> + "If I know Edmund, sir—no." + </p> + <p> + "Smith," said Mr. Downing, trembling with excitement, "go and bring that + basket to me here." + </p> + <p> + Psmith's brain was working rapidly as he went downstairs. What exactly was + at the back of the sleuth's mind, prompting these maneuvers, he did not + know. But that there was something, and that that something was directed + in a hostile manner against Mike, probably in connection with last night's + wild happenings, he was certain. Psmith had noticed, on leaving his bed at + the sound of the alarm bell, that he and Jellicoe were alone in the room. + That might mean that Mike had gone out through the door when the bell + sounded, or it might mean that he had been out all the time. It began to + look as if the latter solution were the correct one. + </p> + <p> + He staggered back with the basket, painfully conscious all the while that + it was creasing his waistcoat, and dumped it down on the study floor. Mr. + Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned against the wall, and + straightened out the damaged garment. + </p> + <p> + "We have here, sir," he said, "a fair selection of our various bootings." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing looked up. + </p> + <p> + "You dropped none of the shoes on your way up, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "Not one, sir. It was a fine performance." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing uttered a grunt of satisfaction, and bent once more to his + task. Shoes flew about the room. Mr. Downing knelt on the floor beside the + basket, and dug like a terrier at a rathole. + </p> + <p> + At last he made a dive, and, with an exclamation of triumph, rose to his + feet. In his hand he held a shoe. + </p> + <p> + "Put those back again, Smith," he said. + </p> + <p> + The ex-Etonian, wearing an expression such as a martyr might have worn on + being told off for the stake, began to pick up the scattered footgear, + whistling softly the tune of "I do all the dirty work," as he did so. + </p> + <p> + "That's the lot, sir," he said, rising. + </p> + <p> + "Ah. Now come across with me to the headmaster's house. Leave the basket + here. You can carry it back when you return." + </p> + <p> + "Shall I put back that shoe, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly not. I shall take this with me, of course." + </p> + <p> + "Shall I carry it, sir?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing reflected. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Smith," he said. "I think it would be best." + </p> + <p> + It occurred to him that the spectacle of a house master wandering abroad + on the public highway, carrying a dirty shoe, might be a trifle + undignified. You never knew whom you might meet on Sunday afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Psmith took the shoe, and doing so, understood what before had puzzled + him. + </p> + <p> + Across the toe of the shoe was a broad splash of red paint. + </p> + <p> + He knew nothing, of course, of the upset tin in the bicycle shed; but when + a housemaster's dog has been painted red in the night, and when, on the + following day, the housemaster goes about in search of a paint splashed + shoe, one puts two and two together. Psmith looked at the name inside the + shoe. It was "Brown bootmaker, Bridgnorth." Bridgnorth was only a few + miles from his own home and Mike's. Undoubtedly it was Mike's shoe. + </p> + <p> + "Can you tell me whose shoe that is?" asked Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + Psmith looked at it again. + </p> + <p> + "No, sir. I can't say the little chap's familiar to me." + </p> + <p> + "Come with me, then." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him. + </p> + <p> + The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way, the + shoe-bearing Psmith in close attendance. + </p> + <p> + The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest. + </p> + <p> + "Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished, "Indeed? Dear me! It + certainly seems ... It is a curiously well-connected thread of evidence. + You are certain that there was red paint on this shoe you discovered in + Mr. Outwood's house?" + </p> + <p> + "I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!" + </p> + <p> + "Sir?" + </p> + <p> + "You have the shoe?" + </p> + <p> + "Ah," said the headmaster, putting on a pair of pince-nez, "now let me + look at—This, you say, is the—? Just so. Just so. Just ... + But, er, Mr. Downing, it may be that I have not examined this shoe with + sufficient care, but—Can <i>you</i> point out to me exactly where + this paint is that you speak of?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing stood staring at the shoe with a wild, fixed stare. Of any + suspicion of paint, red or otherwise, it was absolutely and entirely + innocent. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 21 — THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + </h2> + <p> + The shoe became the center of attention, the cynosure of all eyes. Mr. + Downing fixed it with the piercing stare of one who feels that his brain + is tottering. The headmaster looked at it with a mildly puzzled + expression. Psmith, putting up his eyeglass, gazed at it with a sort of + affectionate interest, as if he were waiting for it to do a trick of some + kind. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + "There was paint on this shoe," he said vehemently. "I tell you there was + a splash of red paint across the toe. Smith will bear me out in this. + Smith, you saw the paint on this shoe?" + </p> + <p> + "Paint, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "What! Do you mean to tell me that you did <i>not</i> see it?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir. There was no paint on this shoe." + </p> + <p> + "This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash right + across the toe." + </p> + <p> + The headmaster interposed. + </p> + <p> + "You must have made a mistake, Mr. Downing. There is certainly no trace of + paint on this shoe. These momentary optical delusions are, I fancy, not + uncommon. Any doctor will tell you—" + </p> + <p> + "I had an aunt, sir," said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkably subject—" + </p> + <p> + "It is absurd. I cannot have been mistaken," said Mr. Downing. "I am + positively certain the toe of this shoe was red when I found it." + </p> + <p> + "It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing." + </p> + <p> + "A sort of chameleon shoe," murmured Psmith. + </p> + <p> + The goaded housemaster turned on him. + </p> + <p> + "What did you say, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "Did I speak, sir?" said Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenly out + of a trance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him. + </p> + <p> + "You had better be careful, Smith." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "I strongly suspect you of having something to do with this." + </p> + <p> + "Really, Mr. Downing," said the headmaster, "this is surely improbable. + Smith could scarcely have cleaned the shoe on his way to my house. On one + occasion I inadvertently spilled some paint on a shoe of my own. I can + assure you that it does not brush off. It needs a very systematic cleaning + before all traces are removed." + </p> + <p> + "Exactly, sir," said Psmith. "My theory, if I may...?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly Smith." + </p> + <p> + Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded. + </p> + <p> + "My theory, sir, is that Mr. Downing was deceived by the light-and-shade + effects on the toe of the shoe. The afternoon sun, streaming in through + the window, must have shone on the shoe in such a manner as to give it a + momentary and fictitious aspect of redness. If Mr. Downing recollects, he + did not look long at the shoe. The picture on the retina of the eye, + consequently, had not time to fade. I remember thinking myself, at the + moment, that the shoe appeared to have a certain reddish tint. The + mistake...." + </p> + <p> + "Bag!" said Mr. Downing shortly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, really," said the headmaster, "it seems to me that that is the only + explanation that will square with the facts. A shoe that is really smeared + with red paint does not become black of itself in the course of a few + minutes." + </p> + <p> + "You are very right, sir," said Psmith with benevolent approval. "May I go + now, sir? I am in the middle of a singularly impressive passage of + Cicero's speech <i>De senectute</i>." + </p> + <p> + "I am sorry that you should leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith. It + is a habit of which I altogether disapprove." + </p> + <p> + "I am reading it, sir," said Psmith, with simple dignity, "for pleasure. + Shall I take the shoe with me, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "If Mr. Downing does not want it?" + </p> + <p> + The housemaster passed the fraudulent piece of evidence to Psmith without + a word, and the latter, having included both masters in a kindly smile, + left the garden. + </p> + <p> + Pedestrians who had the good fortune to be passing along the road between + the headmaster's house and Mr. Outwood's at that moment saw what, if they + had but known it, was a most unusual sight, the spectacle of Psmith + running. Psmith's usual mode of progression was a dignified walk. He + believed in the contemplative style rather than the hustling. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, however, reckless of possible injuries to the crease of + his trousers, he raced down the road, and turning in at Outwood's gate, + bounded upstairs like a highly trained professional athlete. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the study, his first act was to remove a shoe from the top + of the pile in the basket, place it in the small cupboard under the + bookshelf, and lock the cupboard. Then he flung himself into a chair and + panted. + </p> + <p> + "Brain," he said to himself approvingly, "is what one chiefly needs in + matters of this kind. Without brain, where are we? In the soup, every + time. The next development will be when Comrade Downing thinks it over, + and is struck with the brilliant idea that it's just possible that the + shoe he gave me to carry and the shoe I did carry were not one shoe but + two shoes. Meanwhile ..." + </p> + <p> + He dragged up another chair for his feet and picked up his novel. + </p> + <p> + He had not been reading long when there was a footstep in the passage, and + Mr. Downing appeared. + </p> + <p> + The possibility, in fact the probability, of Psmith's having substituted + another shoe for the one with the incriminating splash of paint on it had + occurred to him almost immediately on leaving the headmaster's garden. + Psmith and Mike, he reflected, were friends. Psmith's impulse would be to + do all that lay in his power to shield Mike. Feeling aggrieved with + himself that he had not thought of this before, he, too, hurried over to + Outwood's. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory. + </p> + <p> + "I wish to look at these shoes again," he said. Psmith, with a sigh, laid + down his novel, and rose to assist him. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, Smith," said the housemaster. "I can manage without your help." + </p> + <p> + Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking up the knees of his trousers, and + watched him with silent interest through his eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Put that thing away, Smith," he said. + </p> + <p> + "That thing, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." + </p> + <p> + "Why, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Why! Because I tell you to do so." + </p> + <p> + "I guessed that that was the reason, sir," sighed Psmith, replacing the + eyeglass in his waistcoat pocket. He rested his elbows on his knees, and + his chin on his hands, and resumed his contemplative inspection of the + shoe expert, who, after fidgeting for a few moments, lodged another + complaint. + </p> + <p> + "Don't sit there staring at me, Smith." + </p> + <p> + "I was interested in what you were doing, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind. Don't stare at me in that idiotic way." + </p> + <p> + "May I read, sir?" asked Psmith, patiently. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, read if you like." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, sir." + </p> + <p> + Psmith took up his book again, and Mr. Downing, now thoroughly irritated, + pursued his investigations in the boot basket. + </p> + <p> + He went through it twice, but each time without success. After the second + search, he stood up, and looked wildly round the room. He was as certain + as he could be of anything that the missing piece of evidence was + somewhere in the study. It was no use asking Psmith point-blank where it + was, for Psmith's ability to parry dangerous questions with evasive + answers was quite out of the common. + </p> + <p> + His eye roamed about the room. There was very little cover there, even for + so small a fugitive as a number nine shoe. The floor could be acquitted, + on sight, of harboring the quarry. + </p> + <p> + Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell him + that there was the place to look. + </p> + <p> + "Smith!" he said. + </p> + <p> + Psmith had been reading placidly all the while. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "What is in this cupboard?" + </p> + <p> + "That cupboard, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. This cupboard." Mr. Downing rapped the door irritably. + </p> + <p> + "Just a few odd trifles, sir. We do not often use it. A ball of string, + perhaps. Possibly an old notebook. Nothing of value or interest. + </p> + <p> + "Open it." + </p> + <p> + "I think you will find that it is locked, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Unlock it." + </p> + <p> + "But where is the key, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Have you not got the key?" + </p> + <p> + "If the key is not in the lock, sir, you may depend upon it that it will + take a long search to find it." + </p> + <p> + "Where did you see it last?" + </p> + <p> + "It was in the lock yesterday morning. Jackson might have taken it." + </p> + <p> + "Where is Jackson?" + </p> + <p> + "Out in the field somewhere, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe a word of it," he said shortly. "I have my reasons for + thinking that you are deliberately keeping the contents of that cupboard + from me. I shall break open the door." + </p> + <p> + Psmith got up. + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid you mustn't do that, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing stared, amazed. + </p> + <p> + "Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?" he inquired icily. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. And I know it's not Mr. Outwood, to whom that cupboard happens + to belong. If you wish to break it open, you must get his permission. He + is the sole lessee and proprietor of that cupboard. I am only the acting + manager." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing paused. He also reflected. Mr. Outwood in the general rule did + not count much in the scheme of things, but possibly there were limits to + the treating of him as if he did not exist. To enter his house without his + permission and search it to a certain extent was all very well. But when + it came to breaking up his furniture, perhaps...! + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, there was the maddening thought that if he left the + study in search of Mr. Outwood, in order to obtain his sanction for the + house-breaking work which he proposed to carry through, Smith would be + alone in the room. And he knew that if Smith were left alone in the room, + he would instantly remove the shoe to some other hiding place. He + thoroughly disbelieved the story of the lost key. He was perfectly + convinced that the missing shoe was in the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + He stood chewing these thoughts for a while, Psmith in the meantime + standing in a graceful attitude in front of the cupboard, staring into + vacancy. + </p> + <p> + Then he was seized with a happy idea. Why should he leave the room at all? + If he sent Smith, then he himself could wait and make certain that the + cupboard was not tampered with. + </p> + <p> + "Smith," he said, "go and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be good enough + to come here for a moment." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 22 — MAINLY ABOUT SHOES + </h2> + <p> + "Be quick, Smith," he said, as the latter stood looking at him without + making any movement in the direction of the door. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Quick</i>, sir?" said Psmith meditatively, as if he had been asked a + conundrum. + </p> + <p> + "Go and find Mr. Outwood at once." + </p> + <p> + Psmith still made no move. + </p> + <p> + "Do you intend to disobey me, Smith?" Mr. Downing's voice was steely. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + There was one of those you-could-have-heard-a-pin-drop silences. Psmith + was staring reflectively at the ceiling. Mr. Downing was looking as if at + any moment he might say, "Thwarted to me face, ha, ha! And by a very + stripling!" + </p> + <p> + It was Psmith, however, who resumed the conversation. His manner was + almost too respectful; which made it all the more a pity that what he said + did not keep up the standard of docility. + </p> + <p> + "I take my stand," he said, "on a technical point. I say to myself, 'Mr. + Downing is a man I admire as a human being and respect as a master. In—'" + </p> + <p> + "This impertinence is doing you no good, Smith." + </p> + <p> + Psmith waved a hand deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + "If you will let me explain, sir. I was about to say that in any other + place but Mr. Outwood's house, your word would be law. I would fly to do + your bidding. If you pressed a button, I would do the rest. But in Mr. + Outwood's house I cannot do anything except what pleases me or what is + ordered by Mr. Outwood. I ought to have remembered that before. One + cannot," he continued, as who should say, "Let us be reasonable," "one + cannot, to take a parallel case, imagine the colonel commanding the + garrison at a naval station going on board a battleship and ordering the + crew to splice the jibboom spanker. It might be an admirable thing for the + Empire that the jibboom spanker <i>should</i> be spliced at that + particular juncture, but the crew would naturally decline to move in the + matter until the order came from the commander of the ship. So in my case. + If you will go to Mr. Outwood, explain to him how matters stand, and come + back and say to me, 'Psmith, Mr. Outwood wishes you to ask him to be good + enough to come to this study,' then I shall be only too glad to go and + find him. You see my difficulty, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Go and fetch Mr. Outwood, Smith. I shall not tell you again." + </p> + <p> + Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat sleeve. + </p> + <p> + "Very well, Smith." + </p> + <p> + "I can assure you, sir, at any rate, that if there is a shoe in that + cupboard now, there will be a shoe there when you return." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing stalked out of the room. + </p> + <p> + "But," added Psmith pensively to himself, as the footsteps died away, "I + did not promise that it would be the same shoe." + </p> + <p> + He took the key from his pocket, unlocked the cupboard, and took out the + shoe. Then he selected from the basket a particularly battered specimen. + Placing this in the cupboard, he relocked the door. + </p> + <p> + His next act was to take from the shelf a piece of string. Attaching one + end of this to the shoe that he had taken from the cupboard, he went to + the window. His first act was to fling the cupboard key out into the + bushes. Then he turned to the shoe. On a level with the sill the water + pipe, up which Mike had started to climb the night before, was fastened to + the wall by an iron band. He tied the other end of the string to this, and + let the shoe swing free. He noticed with approval, when it had stopped + swinging, that it was hidden from above by the windowsill. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his place at the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + As an afterthought he took another shoe from the basket, and thrust it up + the chimney. A shower of soot fell into the grate, blackening his hand. + </p> + <p> + The bathroom was a few yards down the corridor. He went there, and washed + off the soot. + </p> + <p> + When he returned, Mr. Downing was in the study, and with him Mr. Outwood, + the latter looking dazed, as if he were not quite equal to the + intellectual pressure of the situation. + </p> + <p> + "Where have you been, Smith?" asked Mr. Downing sharply. + </p> + <p> + "I have been washing my hands, sir." + </p> + <p> + "H'm!" said Mr. Downing suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I saw Smith go into the bathroom," said Mr. Outwood. "Smith, I + cannot quite understand what it is Mr. Downing wishes me to do." + </p> + <p> + "My dear Outwood," snapped the sleuth, "I thought I had made it perfectly + clear. Where is the difficulty?" + </p> + <p> + "I cannot understand why you should suspect Smith of keeping his shoes in + a cupboard, and," added Mr. Outwood with spirit, catching sight of a + good-gracious-has-the-man-<i>no</i>-sense look on the other's face, "Why + he should not do so if he wishes it." + </p> + <p> + "Exactly, sir," said Psmith, approvingly. "You have touched the spot." + </p> + <p> + "If I must explain again, my dear Outwood, will you kindly give me your + attention for a moment. Last night a boy broke out of your house, and + painted my dog Sampson red." + </p> + <p> + "He painted...!" said Mr. Outwood, round-eyed. "Why?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know why. At any rate, he did. During the escapade one of his + shoes was splashed with the paint. It is that shoe which I believe Smith + to be concealing in this cupboard. Now, do you understand?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Psmith, and Psmith shook his head + sorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. Psmith's expression said, as plainly as if he + had spoken the words, "We must humor him." + </p> + <p> + "So with your permission, as Smith declares that he has lost the key, I + propose to break open the door of this cupboard. Have you any objection?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Outwood started. + </p> + <p> + "Objection? None at all, my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, <i>what</i> + is it you wish to do?" + </p> + <p> + "This," said Mr. Downing shortly. + </p> + <p> + There was a pair of dumbbells on the floor, belonging to Mike. He never + used them, but they always managed to get themselves packed with the rest + of his belongings on the last day of the holidays. Mr. Downing seized one + of these, and delivered two rapid blows at the cupboard door. The wood + splintered. A third blow smashed the flimsy lock. The cupboard, with any + skeletons it might contain, was open for all to view. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing uttered a cry of triumph, and tore the shoe from its resting + place. + </p> + <p> + "I told you," he said. "I told you." + </p> + <p> + "I wondered where that shoe had got to," said Psmith. "I've been looking + for it for days." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was examining his find. He looked up with an exclamation of + surprise and wrath. + </p> + <p> + "This shoe has no paint on it," he said, glaring at Psmith. "This is not + the shoe." + </p> + <p> + "It certainly appears, sir," said Psmith sympathetically, "to be free from + paint. There's a sort of reddish glow just there, if you look at it + sideways," he added helpfully. + </p> + <p> + "Did you place that shoe there, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "I must have done. Then, when I lost the key—" + </p> + <p> + "Are you satisfied now, Downing?" interrupted Mr. Outwood with asperity, + "or is there any more furniture you wish to break?" + </p> + <p> + The excitement of seeing his household goods smashed with a dumbbell had + made the archaeological student quite a swashbuckler for the moment. A + little more, and one could imagine him giving Mr. Downing a good, hard + knock. + </p> + <p> + The sleuth-hound stood still for a moment, baffled. But his brain was + working with the rapidity of a buzz saw. A chance remark of Mr. Outwood's + set him fizzing off on the trail once more. Mr. Outwood had caught sight + of the little pile of soot in the grate. He bent down to inspect it. + </p> + <p> + "Dear me," he said, "I must remember to have the chimneys swept. It should + have been done before." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing's eye, rolling in a fine frenzy from heaven to earth, from + earth to heaven, also focused itself on the pile of soot; and a thrill + went through him. Soot in the fireplace! Smith washing his hands! ("You + know my methods, my dear Watson. Apply them.") + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing's mind at that moment contained one single thought; and that + thought was, "What ho for the chimney!" + </p> + <p> + He dived forward with a rush, nearly knocking Mr. Outwood off his feet, + and thrust an arm up into the unknown. An avalanche of soot fell upon his + hand and wrist, but he ignored it, for at the same instant his fingers had + closed upon what he was seeking. + </p> + <p> + "Ah," he said. "I thought as much. You were not quite clever enough, after + all, Smith." + </p> + <p> + "No, sir," said Psmith patiently. "We all make mistakes." + </p> + <p> + "You would have done better, Smith, not to have given me all this trouble. + You have done yourself no good by it." + </p> + <p> + "It's been great fun, though, sir," argued Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "Fun!" Mr. Downing laughed grimly. "You may have reason to change your + opinion of what constitutes—" + </p> + <p> + His voice failed as his eye fell on the all-black toe of the shoe. He + looked up, and caught Psmith's benevolent gaze. He straightened himself + and brushed a bead of perspiration from his face with the back of his + hand. Unfortunately, he used the sooty hand, and the result was that he + looked like a chimney sweep at work. + </p> + <p> + "Did—you—put—that—shoe—there, Smith?" he + asked slowly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Then what did you <i>MEAN</i> by putting it there?" roared Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Animal spirits, sir," said Psmith. + </p> + <h3> + "WHAT?" + </h3> + <p> + "Animal spirits, sir." + </p> + <p> + What Mr. Downing would have replied to this one cannot tell, though one + can guess roughly. For, just as he was opening his mouth, Mr. Outwood, + catching sight of his soot-covered countenance, intervened. + </p> + <p> + "My dear Downing," he said, "your face. It is positively covered with + soot, positively. You must come and wash it. You are quite black. Really + you present a most curious appearance, most. Let me show you the way to my + room." + </p> + <p> + In all times of storm and tribulation there comes a breaking point, a + point where the spirit definitely refuses to battle any longer against the + slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Mr. Downing could not bear up + against this crowning blow. He went down beneath it. In the language of + the ring, he took the count. It was the knockout. + </p> + <p> + "Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!" + </p> + <p> + "Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite covered." + </p> + <p> + "It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit. + </p> + <p> + "You will hear more of this, Smith," he said. "I say you will hear more of + it." + </p> + <p> + Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead him out to a place where there were + towels, soap, and sponges. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + When they had gone, Psmith went to the window, and hauled in the string. + He felt the calm afterglow which comes to the general after a successfully + conducted battle. It had been trying, of course, for a man of refinement, + and it had cut into his afternoon, but on the whole it had been worth it. + </p> + <p> + The problem now was what to do with the painted shoe. It would take a lot + of cleaning, he saw, even if he could get hold of the necessary implements + for cleaning it. And he rather doubted if he would be able to do so. + Edmund, the boot-boy, worked in some mysterious cell far from the madding + crowd, at the back of the house. In the boot cupboard downstairs there + would probably be nothing likely to be of any use. + </p> + <p> + His fears were realized. The boot cupboard was empty. It seemed to him + that, for the time being, the best thing he could do would be to place the + shoe in safe hiding, until he would have thought out a scheme. + </p> + <p> + Having restored the basket to its proper place, accordingly, he went up to + the study again, and placed the red-toed shoe in the chimney, at about the + same height where Mr. Downing had found the other. Nobody would think of + looking there a second time, and it was improbable that Mr. Outwood really + would have the chimneys swept, as he had said. The odds were that he had + forgotten about it already. + </p> + <p> + Psmith went to the bathroom to wash his hands again, with the feeling that + he had done a good day's work. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 23 — ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + The most massive minds are apt to forget things at times. The most adroit + plotters make their little mistakes. Psmith was no exception to the rule. + He made the mistake of not telling Mike of the afternoon's happenings. + </p> + <p> + It was not altogether forgetfulness. Psmith was one of those people who + like to carry through their operations entirely by themselves. Where there + is only one in a secret, the secret is more liable to remain unrevealed. + There was nothing, he thought, to be gained from telling Mike. He forgot + what the consequences might be if he did not. + </p> + <p> + So Psmith kept his own counsel, with the result that Mike went over to + school on the Monday morning in gym shoes. + </p> + <p> + Edmund, summoned from the hinterland of the house to give his opinion why + only one of Mike's shoes was to be found, had no views on the subject. He + seemed to look on it as one of these things which no fellow can + understand. + </p> + <p> + "'Ere's one of 'em, Mr. Jackson," he said, as if he hoped that Mike might + be satisfied with a compromise. + </p> + <p> + "One? What's the good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can't go over to + school in one shoe." + </p> + <p> + Edmund turned this over in his mind, and then said, "No, sir," as much as + to say, "I may have lost a shoe, but, thank goodness, I can still + understand sound reasoning." + </p> + <p> + "Well, what am I to do? Where <i>is</i> the other shoe?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't know, Mr. Jackson," replied Edmund to both questions. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I mean ... Oh, dash it, there's the bell." And Mike sprinted off in + the gym shoes he stood in. + </p> + <p> + It is only a deviation from those ordinary rules of school life, which one + observes naturally and without thinking, that enables one to realize how + strong public-school prejudices really are. At a school, for instance, + where the regulations say that coats only of black or dark blue are to be + worn, a boy who appears one day in even the most respectable and + unostentatious brown finds himself looked on with a mixture of awe and + repulsion, which would be excessive if he had sandbagged the headmaster. + So in the case of shoes. School rules decree that a boy shall go to his + form room in shoes. There is no real reason why, if the day is fine, he + should not wear gym shoes, should he prefer them. But, if he does, the + thing creates a perfect sensation. Boys say, "Great Scott, what <i>have</i> + you got on?" Masters say, "Jones, <i>what</i> are you wearing on your + feet?" In the few minutes which elapse between the assembling of the form + for call-over and the arrival of the form master, some wag is sure either + to stamp on the gym shoes, accompanying the act with some satirical + remark, or else to pull one of them off, and inaugurate an impromptu game + of football with it. There was once a boy who went to school one morning + in elastic-sided boots. + </p> + <p> + Mike had always been coldly distant in his relations to the rest of his + form, looking on them, with a few exceptions, as worms; and the form, + since his innings against Downing's on the Friday, had regarded Mike with + respect. So that he escaped the ragging he would have had to undergo at + Wrykyn in similar circumstance. It was only Mr. Downing who gave trouble. + </p> + <p> + There is a sort of instinct which enables some masters to tell when a boy + in their form is wearing gym shoes instead of the more formal kind, just + as people who dislike cats always know when one is in a room with them. + They cannot see it but they feel it in their bones. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing was perhaps the most bigoted anti-gym-shoeist in the whole + list of English schoolmasters. He waged war remorselessly against gym + shoes. Satire, abuse, lines, detention—every weapon was employed by + him in dealing with their wearers. It had been the late Dunster's practice + always to go over to school in gym shoes when, as he usually did, he felt + shaky in the morning's lesson. Mr. Downing always detected him in the + first five minutes, and that meant a lecture of anything from ten minutes + to a quarter of an hour on Untidy Habits and Boys Who Looked Like Loafers—which + broke the back of the morning's work nicely. On one occasion, when a + particularly tricky bit of Livy was on the bill of fare, Dunster had + entered the form room in heelless Turkish bath slippers, of a vivid + crimson; and the subsequent proceedings, including his journey over to the + house to change the heelless atrocities, had seen him through very nearly + to the quarter-to-eleven interval. + </p> + <p> + Mike, accordingly, had not been in his place for three minutes when Mr. + Downing, stiffening like a pointer, called his name. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "<i>What</i> are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?" + </p> + <p> + "Gym shoes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "You are wearing gym shoes? Are you not aware that gym shoes are not the + proper things to come to school in? Why are you wearing gym shoes?" + </p> + <p> + The form, leaning back against the next row of desks, settled itself + comfortably for the address from the throne. + </p> + <p> + "I have lost one of my shoes, sir." + </p> + <p> + A kind of gulp escaped from Mr. Downing's lips. He stared at Mike for a + moment in silence. Then, turning to Stone, he told him to start + translating. + </p> + <p> + Stone, who had been expecting at least ten minutes' respite, was taken + unawares. When he found the place in his book and began to construe, he + floundered hopelessly. But, to his growing surprise and satisfaction, the + form master appeared to notice nothing wrong. He said "Yes, yes," + mechanically, and finally, "That will do," whereupon Stone resumed his + seat with the feeling that the age of miracles had returned. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing's mind was in a whirl. His case was complete. Mike's + appearance in gym shoes, with the explanation that he had lost a shoe, + completed the chain. As Columbus must have felt when his ship ran into + harbor, and the first American interviewer, jumping on board, said, "Wal, + sir, and what are your impressions of our glorious country?" so did Mr. + Downing feel at that moment. + </p> + <p> + When the bell rang at a quarter to eleven, he gathered up his gown and + sped to the headmaster. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 24 — THE ADAIR METHOD + </h2> + <p> + It was during the interval that day that Stone and Robinson, discussing + the subject of cricket over a bun and ginger beer at the school shop, came + to a momentous decision, to wit, that they were fed up with the Adair + administration and meant to strike. The immediate cause of revolt was + early-morning fielding practice, that searching test of cricket keenness. + Mike himself, to whom cricket was the great and serious interest in life, + had shirked early-morning fielding practice in his first term at Wrykyn. + And Stone and Robinson had but a lukewarm attachment to the game, compared + with Mike's. + </p> + <p> + As a rule, Adair had contented himself with practice in the afternoon + after school, which nobody objects to; and no strain, consequently, had + been put upon Stone's and Robinson's allegiance. In view of the M.C.C. + match on the Wednesday, however, he had now added to this an extra dose to + be taken before breakfast. Stone and Robinson had left their comfortable + beds that day at six o'clock, yawning and heavy-eyed, and had caught + catches and fielded drives which, in the cool morning air, had stung like + adders and bitten like serpents. Until the sun has really got to work, it + is no joke taking a high catch. Stone's dislike of the experiment was only + equaled by Robinson's. They were neither of them of the type which likes + to undergo hardships for the common good. They played well enough when on + the field, but neither cared greatly whether the school had a good season + or not. They played the games entirely for their own sakes. + </p> + <p> + The result was that they went back to the house for breakfast with a + never-again feeling, and at the earliest possible moment met to debate as + to what was to be done about it. At all costs another experience like + today's must be avoided. + </p> + <p> + "It's all rot," said Stone. "What on earth's the good of sweating about + before breakfast? It only makes you tired." + </p> + <p> + "I shouldn't wonder," said Robinson, "if it wasn't bad for the heart. + Rushing about on an empty stomach, I mean, and all that sort of thing." + </p> + <p> + "Personally," said Stone, gnawing his bun, "I don't intend to stick it." + </p> + <p> + "Nor do I." + </p> + <p> + "I mean, it's such absolute rot. If we aren't good enough to play for the + team without having to get up overnight to catch catches, he'd better find + somebody else." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + At this moment Adair came into the shop. + </p> + <p> + "Fielding practice again tomorrow," he said briskly, "at six." + </p> + <p> + "Before breakfast?" said Robinson. + </p> + <p> + "Rather. You two must buck up, you know. You were rotten today." And he + passed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless. + </p> + <p> + Stone was the first to recover. + </p> + <p> + "I'm hanged if I turn out tomorrow," he said, as they left the shop. "He + can do what he likes about it. Besides, what can he do, after all? Only + kick us out of the team. And I don't mind that." + </p> + <p> + "Nor do I." + </p> + <p> + "I don't think he will kick us out, either. He can't play the M.C.C. with + a scratch team. If he does, we'll go and play for that village Jackson + plays for. We'll get Jackson to shove us into the team." + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Robinson. "Let's." + </p> + <p> + Their position was a strong one. A cricket captain may seem to be an + autocrat of tremendous power, but in reality he has only one weapon, the + keenness of those under him. With the majority, of course, the fear of + being excluded or ejected from a team is a spur that drives. The majority, + consequently, are easily handled. But when a cricket captain runs up + against a boy who does not much care whether he plays for the team or not, + then he finds himself in a difficult position, and, unless he is a man of + action, practically helpless. + </p> + <p> + Stone and Robinson felt secure. Taking it all around, they felt that they + would just as soon play for Lower Borlock as for the school. The bowling + of the opposition would be weaker in the former case, and the chance of + making runs greater. To a certain type of cricketer runs are runs, + wherever and however made. + </p> + <p> + The result of all this was that Adair, turning out with the team next + morning for fielding practice, found himself two short. Barnes was among + those present, but of the other two representatives of Outwood's house + there were no signs. + </p> + <p> + Barnes, questioned on the subject, had no information to give, beyond the + fact that he had not seen them about anywhere. Which was not a great help. + Adair proceeded with the fielding practice without further delay. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast that morning he was silent and apparently rapt in thought. + Mr. Downing, who sat at the top of the table with Adair on his right, was + accustomed at the morning meal to blend nourishment of the body with that + of the mind. As a rule he had ten minutes with the daily paper before the + bell rang, and it was his practice to hand on the results of his reading + to Adair and the other house prefects, who, not having seen the paper, + usually formed an interested and appreciative audience. Today, however, + though the house prefects expressed varying degrees of excitement at the + news that Sheppard had made a century against Gloucestershire, and that a + butter famine was expected in the United States, these world-shaking news + items seemed to leave Adair cold. He champed his bread and marmalade with + an abstracted air. + </p> + <p> + He was wondering what to do in the matter of Stone and Robinson. + </p> + <p> + Many captains might have passed the thing over. To take it for granted + that the missing pair had overslept themselves would have been a safe and + convenient way out of the difficulty. But Adair was not the sort of person + who seeks for safe and convenient ways out of difficulties. He never + shirked anything, physical or moral. + </p> + <p> + He resolved to interview the absentees. + </p> + <p> + It was not until after school that an opportunity offered itself. He went + across to Outwood's and found the two nonstarters in the senior day room, + engaged in the intellectual pursuit of kicking the wall and marking the + height of each kick with chalk. Adair's entrance coincided with a record + effort by Stone, which caused the kicker to overbalance and stagger + backward against the captain. + </p> + <p> + "Sorry," said Stone. "Hello, Adair!" + </p> + <p> + "Don't mention it. Why weren't you two at fielding practice this morning?" + </p> + <p> + Robinson, who left the lead to Stone in all matters, said nothing. Stone + spoke. + </p> + <p> + "We didn't turn up," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I know you didn't. Why not?" + </p> + <p> + Stone had rehearsed this scene in his mind, and he spoke with the coolness + which comes from rehearsal. + </p> + <p> + "We decided not to." + </p> + <p> + "Oh?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. We came to the conclusion that we hadn't any use for early-morning + fielding." + </p> + <p> + Adair's manner became ominously calm. + </p> + <p> + "You were rather fed up, I suppose?" + </p> + <p> + "That's just the word." + </p> + <p> + "Sorry it bored you." + </p> + <p> + "It didn't. We didn't give it the chance to." + </p> + <p> + Robinson laughed appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + "What's the joke, Robinson?" asked Adair. + </p> + <p> + "There's no joke," said Robinson, with some haste. "I was only thinking of + something." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you something else to think about soon." + </p> + <p> + Stone intervened. + </p> + <p> + "It's no good making a row about it, Adair. You must see that you can't do + anything. Of course, you can kick us out of the team, if you like, but we + don't care if you do. Jackson will get us a game any Wednesday or Saturday + for the village he plays for. So we're all right. And the school team + aren't such a lot of flyers that you can afford to go chucking people out + of it whenever you want to. See what I mean?" + </p> + <p> + "You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up between you." + </p> + <p> + "What are you going to do? Kick us out?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Good. I thought you'd see it was no good making a beastly row. We'll play + for the school all right. There's no earthly need for us to turn out for + fielding practice before breakfast." + </p> + <p> + "You don't think there is? You may be right. All the same, you're going to + tomorrow morning." + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "Six sharp. Don't be late." + </p> + <p> + "Don't be an ass, Adair. We've told you we aren't going to." + </p> + <p> + "That's only your opinion. I think you are. I'll give you till five past + six, as you seem to like lying in bed." + </p> + <p> + "You can turn out if you feel like it. You won't find me there." + </p> + <p> + "That'll be a disappointment. Nor Robinson?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said the junior partner in the firm; but he said it without any deep + conviction. The atmosphere was growing a great deal too tense for his + comfort. + </p> + <p> + "You've quite made up your minds?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Stone. + </p> + <p> + "Right," said Adair quietly, and knocked him down. + </p> + <p> + He was up again in a moment. Adair had pushed the table back, and was + standing in the middle of the open space. + </p> + <p> + "You cad," said Stone. "I wasn't ready." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you are now. Shall we go on?" + </p> + <p> + Stone dashed in without a word, and for a few moments the two might have + seemed evenly matched to a not too intelligent spectator. But science + tells, even in a confined space. Adair was smaller and lighter than Stone, + but he was cooler and quicker, and he knew more about the game. His blow + was always home a fraction of a second sooner than his opponent's. At the + end of a minute Stone was on the floor again. + </p> + <p> + He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on the table. + </p> + <p> + "Suppose we say ten past six!" said Adair. "I'm not particular to a minute + or two." + </p> + <p> + Stone made no reply. + </p> + <p> + "Will ten past six suit you for fielding practice tomorrow?" said Adair. + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Stone. + </p> + <p> + "Thanks. How about you, Robinson?" + </p> + <p> + Robinson had been a petrified spectator of the Captain-Kettle-like + maneuvers of the cricket captain, and it did not take him long to make up + his mind. He was not altogether a coward. In different circumstances he + might have put up a respectable show. But it takes a more than ordinarily + courageous person to embark on a fight which he knows must end in his + destruction. Robinson knew that he was nothing like a match even for + Stone, and Adair had disposed of Stone in a little over one minute. It + seemed to Robinson that neither pleasure nor profit was likely to come + from an encounter with Adair. + </p> + <p> + "All right," he said hastily, "I'll turn up." + </p> + <p> + "Good," said Adair. "I wonder if either of you chaps could tell me which + is Jackson's study." + </p> + <p> + Stone was dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief, a task which precluded + anything in the shape of conversation; so Robinson replied that Mike's + study was the first you came to on the right of the corridor at the top of + the stairs. + </p> + <p> + "Thanks," said Adair. "You don't happen to know if he's in, I suppose?" + </p> + <p> + "He went up with Smith a quarter of an hour ago. I don't know if he's + still there." + </p> + <p> + "I'll go and see," said Adair. "I should like a word with him if he isn't + busy." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 25 — ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + </h2> + <p> + Mike, all unconscious of the stirring proceedings which had been going on + below stairs, was peacefully reading a letter he had received that morning + from Strachan at Wrykyn, in which the successor to the cricket captaincy + which should have been Mike's had a good deal to say in a lugubrious + strain. In Mike's absence things had been going badly with Wrykyn. A + broken arm, contracted in the course of some rash experiments with a day + boy's motor bicycle, had deprived the team of the services of Dunstable, + the only man who had shown any signs of being able to bowl a side out. + Since this calamity, wrote Strachan, everything had gone wrong. The + M.C.C., led by Mike's brother Reggie, the least of the three first-class + cricketing Jacksons, had smashed them by a hundred and fifty runs. + Geddington had wiped them off the face of the earth. The Incogs, with a + team recruited exclusively from the rabbit hutch—not a well-known + man on the side except Stacey, a veteran who had been playing for the club + for nearly half a century—had got home by two wickets. In fact, it + was Strachan's opinion that the Wrykyn team that summer was about the most + hopeless gang of deadbeats that had ever made exhibition of itself on the + school grounds. The Ripton match, fortunately, was off, owing to an + outbreak of mumps at that shrine of learning and athletics—the + second outbreak of the malady in two terms. Which, said Strachan, was hard + lines on Ripton, but a bit of jolly good luck for Wrykyn, as it had saved + them from what would probably have been a record hammering, Ripton having + eight of their last year's team left, including Dixon, the fast bowler, + against whom Mike alone of the Wrykyn team had been able to make runs in + the previous season. Altogether, Wrykyn had struck a bad patch. + </p> + <p> + Mike mourned over his suffering school. If only he could have been there + to help. It might have made all the difference. In school cricket one good + batsman, to go in first and knock the bowlers off their length, may take a + weak team triumphantly through a season. In school cricket the importance + of a good start for the first wicket is incalculable. + </p> + <p> + As he put Strachan's letter away in his pocket, all his old bitterness + against Sedleigh, which had been ebbing during the past few days, returned + with a rush. He was conscious once more of that feeling of personal injury + which had made him hate his new school on the first day of term. + </p> + <p> + And it was at this point, when his resentment was at its height, that + Adair, the concrete representative of everything Sedleighan, entered the + room. + </p> + <p> + There are moments in life's placid course when there has got to be the + biggest kind of row. This was one of them. + </p> + <p> + Psmith, who was leaning against the mantelpiece, reading the serial story + in a daily paper which he had abstracted from the senior day room, made + the intruder free of the study with a dignified wave of the hand, and went + on reading. Mike remained in the deck chair in which he was sitting, and + contented himself with glaring at the newcomer. + </p> + <p> + Psmith was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + "If you ask my candid opinion," he said, looking up from his paper, "I + should say that young Lord Antony Trefusis was in the soup already. I seem + to see the consommé splashing about his ankles. He's had a note telling + him to be under the oak tree in the Park at midnight. He's just off there + at the end of this installment. I bet Long Jack, the poacher, is waiting + there with a sandbag. Care to see the paper, Comrade Adair? Or don't you + take any interest in contemporary literature?" + </p> + <p> + "Thanks," said Adair. "I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a minute." + </p> + <p> + "Fate," said Psmith, "has led your footsteps to the right place. This is + Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before you." + </p> + <p> + "What do you want?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + He suspected that Adair had come to ask him once again to play for the + school. The fact that the M.C.C. match was on the following day made this + a probable solution of the reason for his visit. He could think of no + other errand that was likely to have set the head of Downing's paying + afternoon calls. + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you in a minute. It won't take long." + </p> + <p> + "That," said Psmith approvingly, "is right. Speed is the keynote of the + present age. Promptitude. Dispatch. This is no time for loitering. We must + be strenuous. We must hustle. We must Do It Now. We—" + </p> + <p> + "Buck up," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," said Adair. "I've just been talking to Stone and Robinson." + </p> + <p> + "An excellent way of passing an idle half hour," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "We weren't exactly idle," said Adair grimly. "It didn't last long, but it + was pretty lively while it did. Stone chucked it after the first round." + </p> + <p> + Mike got up out of his chair. He could not quite follow what all this was + about, but there was no mistaking the truculence of Adair's manner. For + some reason, which might possibly be made clear later, Adair was looking + for trouble, and Mike in his present mood felt that it would be a + privilege to see that he got it. + </p> + <p> + Psmith was regarding Adair through his eyeglass with pain and surprise. + </p> + <p> + "Surely," he said, "you do not mean us to understand that you have been <i>brawling</i> + with Comrade Stone! This is bad hearing. I thought that you and he were + like brothers. Such a bad example for Comrade Robinson, too. Leave us, + Adair. We would brood. 'Oh, go thee, knave, I'll none of thee.' + Shakespeare." + </p> + <p> + Psmith turned away, and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed at + himself mournfully in the looking glass. + </p> + <p> + "I'm not the man I was," he sighed, after a prolonged inspection. "There + are lines on my face, dark circles beneath my eyes. The fierce rush of + life at Sedleigh is wasting me away." + </p> + <p> + "Stone and I had a discussion about early-morning fielding practice," said + Adair, turning to Mike. + </p> + <p> + Mike said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "I thought his fielding wanted working up a bit, so I told him to turn out + at six tomorrow morning. He said he wouldn't, so we argued it out. He's + going to all right. So is Robinson." + </p> + <p> + Mike remained silent. + </p> + <p> + "So are you," said Adair. + </p> + <p> + "I get thinner and thinner," said Psmith from the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + Mike looked at Adair, and Adair looked at Mike, after the manner of two + dogs before they fly at one another. There was an electric silence in the + study. Psmith peered with increased earnestness into the glass. + </p> + <p> + "Oh?" said Mike at last. "What makes you think that?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't think. I know." + </p> + <p> + "Any special reason for my turning out?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "What's that?" + </p> + <p> + "You're going to play for the school against the M.C.C. tomorrow, and I + want you to get some practice." + </p> + <p> + "I wonder how you got that idea!" + </p> + <p> + "Curious I should have done, isn't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Very. You aren't building on it much, are you?" said Mike politely. + </p> + <p> + "I am, rather," replied Adair, with equal courtesy. + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." + </p> + <p> + "I don't think so." + </p> + <p> + "My eyes," said Psmith regretfully, "are a bit close together. However," + he added philosophically, "it's too late to alter that now." + </p> + <p> + Mike drew a step closer to Adair. + </p> + <p> + "What makes you think I shall play against the M.C.C.?" he asked + curiously. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to make you." + </p> + <p> + Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to meet him. + </p> + <p> + "Would you care to try now?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + For just one second the two drew themselves together preparatory to + beginning the serious business of the interview, and in that second + Psmith, turning from the glass, stepped between them. + </p> + <p> + "Get out of the light, Smith," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture. + </p> + <p> + "My dear young friends," he said placidly, "if you <i>will</i> let your + angry passions rise, against the direct advice of Doctor Watts, I suppose + you must. But when you propose to claw each other in my study, in the + midst of a hundred fragile and priceless ornaments, I lodge a protest. If + you really feel that you want to scrap, for goodness' sake do it where + there's some room. I don't want all the study furniture smashed. I know a + bank whereon the wild thyme grows, only a few yards down the road, where + you can scrap all night if you want to. How would it be to move on there? + Any objections? None. Then shift ho! And let's get it over." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 26 — CLEARING THE AIR + </h2> + <p> + Psmith was one of those people who lend a dignity to everything they + touch. Under his auspices the most unpromising ventures became somehow + enveloped in an atmosphere of measured stateliness. On the present + occasion, what would have been, without his guiding hand, a mere + unscientific scramble, took on something of the impressive formality of + the National Sporting Club. + </p> + <p> + "The rounds," he said, producing a watch, as they passed through a gate + into a field a couple of hundred yards from the house gate, "will be of + three minutes' duration, with a minute rest in between. A man who is down + will have ten seconds in which to rise. Are you ready, Comrades Adair and + Jackson? Very well, then. Time." + </p> + <p> + After which, it was a pity that the actual fight did not quite live up to + its referee's introduction. Dramatically, there should have been cautious + sparring for openings and a number of tensely contested rounds, as if it + had been the final of a boxing competition. But school fights, when they + do occur—which is only once in a decade nowadays, unless you count + junior school scuffles—are the outcome of weeks of suppressed bad + blood, and are consequently brief and furious. In a boxing competition, + however much one may want to win, one does not dislike one's opponent. Up + to the moment when "time" was called, one was probably warmly attached to + him, and at the end of the last round one expects to resume that attitude + of mind. In a fight each party, as a rule, hates the other. + </p> + <p> + So it happened that there was nothing formal or cautious about the present + battle. All Adair wanted was to get at Mike, and all Mike wanted was to + get at Adair. Directly Psmith called "time," they rushed together as if + they meant to end the thing in half a minute. + </p> + <p> + It was this that saved Mike. In an ordinary contest with the gloves, with + his opponent cool and boxing in his true form, he could not have lasted + three rounds against Adair. The latter was a clever boxer, while Mike had + never had a lesson in his life. If Adair had kept away and used his head, + nothing could have prevented his winning. + </p> + <p> + As it was, however, he threw away his advantages, much as Tom Brown did at + the beginning of his fight with Slogger Williams, and the result was the + same as on that historic occasion. Mike had the greater strength, and, + thirty seconds from the start, knocked his man clean off his feet with an + unscientific but powerful righthander. + </p> + <p> + This finished Adair's chances. He rose full of fight, but with all the + science knocked out of him. He went in at Mike with both hands. The Irish + blood in him, which for the ordinary events of life made him merely + energetic and dashing, now rendered him reckless. He abandoned all attempt + at guarding. It was the Frontal Attack in its most futile form, and as + unsuccessful as a frontal attack is apt to be. There was a swift exchange + of blows, in the course of which Mike's left elbow, coming into contact + with his opponent's right fist, got a shock which kept it tingling for the + rest of the day; and then Adair went down in a heap. + </p> + <p> + He got up slowly and with difficulty. For a moment he stood blinking + vaguely. Then he lurched forward at Mike. + </p> + <p> + In the excitement of a fight—which is, after all, about the most + exciting thing that ever happens to one in the course of one's life—it + is difficult for the fighters to see what the spectators see. Where the + spectators see an assault on an already beaten man, the fighter himself + only sees a legitimate piece of self-defense against an opponent whose + chances are equal to his own. Psmith saw, as anybody looking on would have + seen, that Adair was done. Mike's blow had taken him within a fraction of + an inch of the point of the jaw, and he was all but knocked out. Mike + could not see this. All he understood was that his man was on his feet + again and coming at him, so he hit out with all his strength; and this + time Adair went down and stayed down. + </p> + <p> + "Brief," said Psmith, coming forward, "but exciting. We may take that, I + think, to be the conclusion of the entertainment. I will now have a dash + at picking up the slain. I shouldn't stop, if I were you. He'll be sitting + up and taking notice soon, and if he sees you he may want to go on with + the combat, which would do him no earthly good. If it's going to be + continued in our next, there had better be a bit of an interval for + alterations and repairs first." + </p> + <p> + "Is he hurt much, do you think?" asked Mike. He had seen knockouts before + in the ring, but this was the first time he had ever effected one on his + own account, and Adair looked unpleasantly corpselike. + </p> + <p> + "<i>He's</i> all right," said Psmith. "In a minute or two he'll be + skipping about like a little lambkin. I'll look after him. You go away and + pick flowers." + </p> + <p> + Mike put on his coat and walked back to the house. He was conscious of a + perplexing whirl of new and strange emotions, chief among which was a + curious feeling that he rather liked Adair. He found himself thinking that + Adair was a good chap, that there was something to be said for his point + of view, and that it was a pity he had knocked him about so much. At the + same time, he felt an undeniable thrill of pride at having beaten him. The + feat presented that interesting person, Mike Jackson, to him in a fresh + and pleasing light, as one who had had a tough job to face and had carried + it through. Jackson the cricketer he knew, but Jackson the deliverer of + knockout blows was strange to him, and he found this new acquaintance a + man to be respected. + </p> + <p> + The fight, in fact, had the result which most fights have, if they are + fought fairly and until one side has had enough. It revolutionized Mike's + view of things. It shook him up, and drained the bad blood out of him. + Where before he had seemed to himself to be acting with massive dignity, + he now saw that he had simply been sulking like some wretched kid. There + had appeared to him something rather fine in his policy of refusing to + identify himself in any way with Sedleigh, a touch of the + stone-walls-do-not-a-prison-make sort of thing. He now saw that his + attitude was to be summed up in the words, "Sha'n't play." + </p> + <p> + It came upon Mike with painful clearness that he had been making an ass of + himself. + </p> + <p> + He had come to this conclusion, after much earnest thought, when Psmith + entered the study. + </p> + <p> + "How's Adair?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Sitting up and taking nourishment once more. We have been chatting. He's + not a bad cove." + </p> + <p> + "He's all right," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Psmith straightened his tie. + </p> + <p> + "Look here," he said, "I seldom interfere in terrestrial strife, but it + seems to me that there's an opening here for a capable peacemaker, not + afraid of work, and willing to give his services in exchange for a + comfortable home. Comrade Adair's rather a stoutish fellow in his way. I'm + not much on the 'Play up for the old school, Jones,' game, but everyone to + his taste. I shouldn't have thought anybody would get overwhelmingly + attached to this abode of wrath, but Comrade Adair seems to have done it. + He's all for giving Sedleigh a much-needed boost-up. It's not a bad idea + in its way. I don't see why one shouldn't humor him. Apparently he's been + sweating since early childhood to buck the school up. And as he's leaving + at the end of the term, it mightn't be a scaly scheme to give him a bit of + a send-off, if possible, by making the cricket season a bit of a banger. + As a start, why not drop him a line to say that you'll play against the + M.C.C. tomorrow?" + </p> + <p> + Mike did not reply at once. He was feeling better disposed toward Adair + and Sedleigh then he had felt, but he was not sure that he was quite + prepared to go as far as a complete climb-down. + </p> + <p> + "It wouldn't be a bad idea," continued Psmith. "There's nothing like + giving in to a man a bit every now and then. It broadens the soul and + improves the action of the skin. What seems to have fed up Comrade Adair, + to a certain extent, is that Stone apparently led him to understand that + you had offered to give him and Robinson places in your village team. You + didn't, of course?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course not," said Mike indignantly. + </p> + <p> + "I told him he didn't know the old <i>noblesse oblige</i> spirit of the + Jacksons. I said that you would scorn to tarnish the Jackson escutcheon by + not playing the game. My eloquence convinced him. However, to return to + the point under discussion, why not?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't ... What I mean to say ..." began Mike. + </p> + <p> + "If your trouble is," said Psmith, "that you fear that you may be in + unworthy company—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't be an ass." + </p> + <p> + "—Dismiss it. <i>I</i> am playing." + </p> + <p> + Mike stared. + </p> + <p> + "You're <i>what? You</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "I," said Psmith, breathing on a coat button, and polishing it with his + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + "Can you play cricket?" + </p> + <p> + "You have discovered," said Psmith, "my secret sorrow." + </p> + <p> + "You're rotting." + </p> + <p> + "You wrong me, Comrade Jackson." + </p> + <p> + "Then why haven't you played?" + </p> + <p> + "Why haven't you?" + </p> + <p> + "Why didn't you come and play for Lower Borlock, I mean?" + </p> + <p> + "The last time I played in a village cricket match I was caught at point + by a man in braces. It would have been madness to risk another such shock + to my system. My nerves are so exquisitely balanced that a thing of that + sort takes years off my life." + </p> + <p> + "No, but look here, Smith, bar rotting. Are you really any good at + cricket?" + </p> + <p> + "Competent judges at Eton gave me to understand so. I was told that this + year I should be a certainty for Lord's. But when the cricket season came, + where was I? Gone. Gone like some beautiful flower that withers in the + night." + </p> + <p> + "But you told me you didn't like cricket. You said you only liked watching + it." + </p> + <p> + "Quite right. I do. But at schools where cricket is compulsory you have to + overcome your private prejudices. And in time the thing becomes a habit. + Imagine my feelings when I found that I was degenerating, little by + little, into a slow left-hand bowler with a swerve. I fought against it, + but it was useless, and after a while I gave up the struggle, and drifted + with the stream. Last year in a house match"—Psmith's voice took on + a deeper tone of melancholy—"I took seven for thirteen in the second + innings on a hard wicket. I did think, when I came here, that I had found + a haven of rest, but it was not to be. I turn out tomorrow. What Comrade + Outwood will say, when he finds that his keenest archaeological disciple + has deserted, I hate to think. However ..." + </p> + <p> + Mike felt as if a young and powerful earthquake had passed. The whole face + of his world had undergone a quick change. Here was he, the recalcitrant, + wavering on the point of playing for the school, and here was Psmith, the + last person whom he would have expected to be a player, stating calmly + that he had been in the running for a place in the Eton eleven. + </p> + <p> + Then in a flash Mike understood. He was not by nature intuitive, but he + read Psmith's mind now. Since the term began, he and Psmith had been + acting on precisely similar motives. Just as he had been disappointed of + the captaincy of cricket at Wrykyn, so had Psmith been disappointed of his + place in the Eton team at Lord's. And they had both worked it off, each in + his own way—Mike sullenly, Psmith whimsically, according to their + respective natures—on Sedleigh. + </p> + <p> + If Psmith, therefore, did not consider it too much of a climb-down to + renounce his resolution not to play for Sedleigh, there was nothing to + stop Mike doing so, as—at the bottom of his heart—he wanted to + do. + </p> + <p> + "By Jove," he said, "if you're playing, I'll play. I'll write a note to + Adair now. But, I say"—he stopped—"I'm hanged if I'm going to + turn out and field before breakfast tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right. You won't have to. Adair won't be there himself. He's + not playing against the M.C.C. He's sprained his wrist." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 27 — IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + </h2> + <p> + "Sprained his wrist?" said Mike. "How did he do that?" + </p> + <p> + "During the brawl. Apparently one of his efforts got home on your elbow + instead of your expressive countenance, and whether it was that your elbow + was particularly tough or his wrist particularly fragile, I don't know. + Anyhow, it went. It's nothing bad, but it'll keep him out of the game + tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + "I say, what beastly rough luck! I'd no idea. I'll go around." + </p> + <p> + "Not a bad scheme. Close the door gently after you, and if you see anybody + downstairs who looks as if he were likely to be going over to the shop, + ask him to get me a small pot of some rare old jam and tell the man to + chalk it up to me. The jam Comrade Outwood supplies to us at tea is all + right as a practical joke or as a food for those anxious to commit + suicide, but useless to anybody who values life." + </p> + <p> + On arriving at Mr. Downing's and going to Adair's study, Mike found that + his late antagonist was out. He left a note informing him of his + willingness to play in the morrow's match. The lock-up bell rang as he + went out of the house. + </p> + <p> + A spot of rain fell on his hand. A moment later there was a continuous + patter, as the storm, which had been gathering all day, broke in earnest. + Mike turned up his coat collar, and ran back to Outwood's. "At this rate," + he said to himself, "there won't be a match at all tomorrow." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + When the weather decides, after behaving well for some weeks, to show what + it can do in another direction, it does the thing thoroughly. When Mike + woke the next morning the world was gray and dripping. Leaden-colored + clouds drifted over the sky, till there was not a trace of blue to be + seen, and then the rain began again, in the gentle, determined way rain + has when it means to make a day of it. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those bad days when one sits in the pavilion, damp and + depressed, while figures in mackintoshes, with discolored buckskin boots, + crawl miserably about the field in couples. + </p> + <p> + Mike, shuffling across to school in a Burberry, met Adair at Downing's + gate. + </p> + <p> + These moments are always difficult. Mike stopped—he could hardly + walk on as if nothing had happened—and looked down at his feet. + </p> + <p> + "Coming across?" he said awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + "Right ho!" said Adair. + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence. + </p> + <p> + "It's only about ten to, isn't it?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + Adair fished out his watch, and examined it with an elaborate care born of + nervousness. + </p> + <p> + "About nine to." + </p> + <p> + "Good. We've got plenty of time." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "I hate having to hurry over to school." + </p> + <p> + "So do I." + </p> + <p> + "I often do cut it rather fine, though." + </p> + <p> + "Yes. So do I." + </p> + <p> + "Beastly nuisance when one does." + </p> + <p> + "Beastly." + </p> + <p> + "It's only about a couple of minutes from the houses to the school, I + should think, shouldn't you?" + </p> + <p> + "Not much more. Might be three." + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Three if one didn't hurry." + </p> + <p> + Another silence. + </p> + <p> + "Beastly day," said Adair. + </p> + <p> + "Rotten." + </p> + <p> + Silence again. + </p> + <p> + "I say," said Mike, scowling at his toes, "awfully sorry about your + wrist." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that's all right. It was my fault." + </p> + <p> + "Does it hurt?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, rather not, thanks." + </p> + <p> + "I'd no idea you'd crocked yourself." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, that's all right. It was only right at the end. You'd have + smashed me anyhow." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, rot." + </p> + <p> + "I bet you anything you like you would." + </p> + <p> + "I bet you I shouldn't.... Jolly hard luck, just before the match." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no.... I say, thanks awfully for saying you'd play." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, rot.... Do you think we shall get a game?" + </p> + <p> + Adair inspected the sky carefully. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know. It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Rotten. I say, how long will your wrist keep you out of cricket?" + </p> + <p> + "Be all right in a week. Less, probably." + </p> + <p> + "Good." + </p> + <p> + "Now that you and Smith are going to play, we ought to have a jolly good + season." + </p> + <p> + "Rummy, Smith turning out to be a cricketer." + </p> + <p> + "Yes. I should think he'd be a hot bowler, with his height." + </p> + <p> + "He must be jolly good if he was only just out of the Eton team last + year." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "What's the time?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + Adair produced his watch once more. + </p> + <p> + "Five to." + </p> + <p> + "We've heaps of time." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, heaps." + </p> + <p> + "Let's stroll on a bit down the road, shall we?" + </p> + <p> + "Right ho!" + </p> + <p> + Mike cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + "I say." + </p> + <p> + "Hello?" + </p> + <p> + "I've been talking to Smith. He was telling me that you thought I'd + promised to give Stone and Robinson places in the—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, that's all right. It was only for a bit. Smith told me you + couldn't have done, and I saw that I was an ass to think you could have. + It was Stone seeming so dead certain that he could play for Lower Borlock + if I chucked him from the school team that gave me the idea." + </p> + <p> + "He never even asked me to get him a place." + </p> + <p> + "No, I know." + </p> + <p> + "Of course, I wouldn't have done it, even if he had." + </p> + <p> + "Of course not." + </p> + <p> + "I didn't want to play myself, but I wasn't going to do a rotten trick + like getting other fellows away from the team." + </p> + <p> + "No, I know." + </p> + <p> + "It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no. Beastly rough luck having to leave Wrykyn just when you were + going to be captain, and come to a small school like this." + </p> + <p> + The excitement of the past few days must have had a stimulating effect on + Mike's mind—shaken it up, as it were, for now, for the second time + in two days, he displayed quite a creditable amount of intuition. He might + have been misled by Adair's apparently deprecatory attitude toward + Sedleigh, and blundered into a denunciation of the place. Adair had said, + "a small school like this" in the sort of voice which might have led his + hearer to think that he was expected to say, "Yes, rotten little hole, + isn't it?" or words to that effect. Mike, fortunately, perceived that the + words were used purely from politeness, on the Chinese principle. When a + Chinese man wishes to pay a compliment, he does so by belittling himself + and his belongings. + </p> + <p> + He eluded the pitfall. + </p> + <p> + "What rot!" he said. "Sedleigh's one of the most sporting schools I've + ever come across. Everybody's as keen as blazes. So they ought to be, + after the way you've sweated." + </p> + <p> + Adair shuffled awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + "I've always been fairly keen on the place," he said. "But I don't suppose + I've done anything much." + </p> + <p> + "You've loosened one of my front teeth," said Mike, with a grin, "if + that's any comfort to you." + </p> + <p> + "I couldn't eat anything except porridge this morning. My jaw still + aches." + </p> + <p> + For the first time during the conversation their eyes met, and the + humorous side of the thing struck them simultaneously. They began to + laugh. + </p> + <p> + "What fools we must have looked," said Adair. + </p> + <p> + "<i>You</i> were all right. I must have looked rotten. I've never had the + gloves on in my life. I'm jolly glad no one saw us except Smith, who + doesn't count. Hello, there's the bell. We'd better be moving on. What + about this match? Not much chance of it from the look of the sky at + present." + </p> + <p> + "It might clear before eleven. You'd better get changed, anyhow, at the + interval, and hang about in case." + </p> + <p> + "All right. It's better than doing Thucydides with Downing. We've got math + till the interval, so I don't see anything of him all day; which won't + hurt me." + </p> + <p> + "He isn't a bad sort of chap, when you get to know him," said Adair. + </p> + <p> + "I can't have done, then. I don't know which I'd least soon be, Downing or + a black beetle, except that if one was Downing one could tread on the + black beetle. Dash this rain. I got about half a pint down my neck just + then. We shan't get a game today, or anything like it. As you're crocked, + I'm not sure that I care much. You've been sweating for years to get the + match on, and it would be rather rot playing it without you." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know that so much. I wish we could play because I'm certain, with + you and Smith, we'd walk into them. They probably aren't sending down much + of a team, and really, now that you and Smith are turning out, we've got a + jolly hot lot. There's quite decent batting all the way through, and the + bowling isn't so bad. If only we could have given this M.C.C. lot a really + good hammering, it might have been easier to get some good fixtures for + next season. You see, it's all right for a school like Wrykyn, but with a + small place like this you simply can't get the best teams to give you a + match till you've done something to show that you aren't absolute rotters + at the game. As for the schools, they're worse. They'd simply laugh at + you. You were cricket secretary at Wrykyn last year. What would you have + done if you'd had a challenge from Sedleigh? You'd either have laughed + till you were sick, or else had a fit at the mere idea of the thing." + </p> + <p> + Mike stopped. + </p> + <p> + "By Jove, you've struck about the brightest scheme on record. I never + thought of it before. Let's get a match on with Wrykyn." + </p> + <p> + "What! They wouldn't play us." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, they would. At least, I'm pretty sure they would. I had a letter + from Strachan, the captain, yesterday, saying that the Ripton match had + had to be scratched owing to illness. So they've got a vacant date. Shall + I try them? I'll write to Strachan tonight, if you like. And they aren't + strong this year. We'll smash them. What do you say?" + </p> + <p> + Adair was as one who has seen a vision. + </p> + <p> + "By Jove," he said at last, "if we only could!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 28 — MR. DOWNING MOVES + </h2> + <p> + The rain continued without a break all the morning. The two teams, after + hanging about dismally, and whiling the time away with stump-cricket in + the changing rooms, lunched in the pavilion at one o'clock. After which + the M.C.C. captain, approaching Adair, moved that this merry meeting be + considered off and he and his men permitted to catch the next train back + to town. To which Adair, seeing that it was out of the question that there + should be any cricket that afternoon, regretfully agreed, and the first + Sedleigh <i>v</i>. M.C.C. match was accordingly scratched. + </p> + <p> + Mike and Psmith, wandering back to the house, were met by a damp junior + from Downing's, with a message that Mr. Downing wished to see Mike as soon + as he was changed. + </p> + <p> + "What's he want me for?" inquired Mike. + </p> + <p> + The messenger did not know. Mr. Downing, it seemed, had not confided in + him. All he knew was that the housemaster was in the house, and would be + glad if Mike would step across. + </p> + <p> + "A nuisance," said Psmith, "this incessant demand for you. That's the + worst of being popular. If he wants you to stop to tea, edge away. A meal + on rather a sumptuous scale will be prepared in the study against your + return." + </p> + <p> + Mike changed quickly, and went off, leaving Psmith, who was fond of simple + pleasures in his spare time, earnestly occupied with a puzzle which had + been scattered through the land by a weekly paper. The prize for a + solution was one thousand pounds, and Psmith had already informed Mike + with some minuteness of his plans for the disposition of this sum. + Meanwhile, he worked at it both in and out of school, generally with + abusive comments on its inventor. + </p> + <p> + He was still fiddling away at it when Mike returned. + </p> + <p> + Mike, though Psmith was at first too absorbed to notice it, was agitated. + </p> + <p> + "I don't wish to be in any way harsh," said Psmith, without looking up, + "but the man who invented this thing was a blighter of the worst type. You + come and have a shot. For the moment I am baffled. The whisper flies round + the clubs, 'Psmith is baffled.'" + </p> + <p> + "The man's an absolute driveling ass," said Mike warmly. + </p> + <p> + "Me, do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "What on earth would be the point of my doing it?" + </p> + <p> + "You'd gather in a thousand of the best. Give you a nice start in life." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not talking about your rotten puzzle." + </p> + <p> + "What <i>are</i> you talking about?" + </p> + <p> + "That ass Downing. I believe he's off his nut." + </p> + <p> + "Then your chat with Comrade Downing was not of the + old-College-chums-meeting-unexpectedly-after-years'-separation type? What + has he been doing to you?" + </p> + <p> + "He's off his nut." + </p> + <p> + "I know. But what did he do? How did the brainstorm burst? Did he jump at + you from behind a door and bite a piece out of your leg, or did he say he + was a teapot?" + </p> + <p> + Mike sat down. + </p> + <p> + "You remember that painting-Sammy business?" + </p> + <p> + "As if it were yesterday," said Psmith. "Which it was, pretty nearly." + </p> + <p> + "He thinks I did it." + </p> + <p> + "Why? Have you ever shown any talent in the painting line?" + </p> + <p> + "The silly ass wanted me to confess that I'd done it. He as good as asked + me to. Jawed a lot of rot about my finding it to my advantage later on if + I behaved sensibly." + </p> + <p> + "Then what are you worrying about? Don't you know that when a master wants + you to do the confessing act, it simply means that he hasn't enough + evidence to start in on you with? You're all right. The thing's a + stand-off." + </p> + <p> + "Evidence!" said Mike. "My dear man, he's got enough evidence to sink a + ship. He's absolutely sweating evidence at every pore. As far as I can + see, he's been crawling about, doing the Sherlock Holmes business for all + he's worth ever since the thing happened, and now he's dead certain that I + painted Sammy." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Did</i> you, by the way?" said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Mike shortly, "I didn't. But after listening to Downing I + almost began to wonder if I hadn't. The man's got stacks of evidence to + prove that I did." + </p> + <p> + "Such as what?" + </p> + <p> + "It's mostly about my shoes. But, dash it, you know all about that. Why, + you were with him when he came and looked for them." + </p> + <p> + "It is true," said Psmith, "that Comrade Downing and I spent a very + pleasant half hour together inspecting shoes, but how does he drag you + into it?" + </p> + <p> + "He swears one of the shoes was splashed with paint." + </p> + <p> + "Yes. He babbled to some extent on that point when I was entertaining him. + But what makes him think that the shoe, if any, was yours?" + </p> + <p> + "He's certain that somebody in this house got one of his shoes splashed, + and is hiding it somewhere. And I'm the only chap in the house who hasn't + got a pair of shoes to show, so he thinks it's me. I don't know where the + dickens my other shoe has gone. Of course I've got two pairs, but one's + being soled. So I had to go over to school yesterday in gym shoes. That's + how he spotted me." + </p> + <p> + Psmith sighed. + </p> + <p> + "Comrade Jackson," he said mournfully, "all this very sad affair shows the + folly of acting from the best motives. In my simple zeal, meaning to save + you unpleasantness, I have landed you, with a dull, sickening thud, right + in the cart. Are you particular about dirtying your hands? If you aren't, + just reach up that chimney a bit!" + </p> + <p> + Mike stared. + </p> + <p> + "What the dickens are you talking about?" + </p> + <p> + "Go on. Get it over. Be a man, and reach up the chimney." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know what the game is," said Mike, kneeling beside the fender and + groping, "but—<i>Hello</i>!" + </p> + <p> + "Ah ha!" said Psmith moodily. + </p> + <p> + Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, and glared at it. + </p> + <p> + "It's my shoe!" he said at last. + </p> + <p> + "It <i>is</i>," said Psmith, "your shoe. And what is that red stain across + the toe? Is it blood? No, 'tis not blood. It is red paint." + </p> + <p> + Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the shoe. + </p> + <p> + "How on earth did—By Jove! I remember now. I kicked up against + something in the dark when I was putting my bicycle back that night. It + must have been the paint pot." + </p> + <p> + "Then you were out that night?" + </p> + <p> + "Rather. That's what makes it so jolly awkward. It's too long to tell you + now—" + </p> + <p> + "Your stories are never too long for me," said Psmith. "Say on!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, it was like this." And Mike related the events which had led up to + his midnight excursion. Psmith listened attentively. + </p> + <p> + "This," he said, when Mike had finished, "confirms my frequently stated + opinion that Comrade Jellicoe is one of Nature's blitherers. So that's why + he touched us for our hard-earned, was it?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Of course there was no need for him to have the money at all." + </p> + <p> + "And the result is that you are in something of a tight place. You're <i>absolutely</i> + certain you didn't paint that dog? Didn't do it, by any chance, in a + moment of absent-mindedness, and forgot all about it? No? No, I suppose + not. I wonder who did!" + </p> + <p> + "It's beastly awkward. You see, Downing chased me that night. That was why + I rang the alarm bell. So, you see, he's certain to think that the chap he + chased, which was me, and the chap who painted Sammy, are the same. I + shall get landed both ways." + </p> + <p> + Psmith pondered. + </p> + <p> + "It <i>is</i> a tightish place," he admitted. + </p> + <p> + "I wonder if we could get this shoe clean," said Mike, inspecting it with + disfavor. + </p> + <p> + "Not for a pretty considerable time." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose not. I say, I <i>am</i> in the cart. If I can't produce this + shoe, they're bound to guess why." + </p> + <p> + "What exactly," asked Psmith, "was the position of affairs between you and + Comrade Downing when you left him? Had you definitely parted brass rags? + Or did you simply sort of drift apart with mutual courtesies?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, he said I was ill advised to continue that attitude, or some rot, and + I said I didn't care, I hadn't painted his bally dog, and he said very + well, then, he must take steps, and—well, that was about all." + </p> + <p> + "Sufficient, too," said Psmith, "quite sufficient, I take it, then, that + he is now on the warpath, collecting a gang, so to speak." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose he's gone to the Old Man about it." + </p> + <p> + "Probably. A very worrying time our headmaster is having, taking it all + round, in connection with this painful affair. What do you think his move + will be?" + </p> + <p> + "I suppose he'll send for me, and try to get something out of me." + </p> + <p> + "<i>He'll</i> want you to confess, too. Masters are all whales on + confession. The worst of it is, you can't prove an alibi, because at about + the time the foul act was perpetrated, you were playing + Round-and-round-the- mulberry-bush with Comrade Downing. This needs + thought. You had better put the case in my hands, and go out and watch the + dandelions growing. I will think over the matter." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I hope you'll be able to think of something. I can't." + </p> + <p> + "Possibly. You never know." + </p> + <p> + There was a tap at the door. + </p> + <p> + "See how we have trained them," said Psmith. "They now knock before + entering. There was a time when they would have tried to smash in a panel. + Come in." + </p> + <p> + A small boy, carrying a straw hat adorned with the School House ribbon, + answered the invitation. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I say, Jackson," he said, "the headmaster sent me over to tell you he + wants to see you." + </p> + <p> + "I told you so," said Mike to Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "Don't go," suggested Psmith. "Tell him to write." + </p> + <p> + Mike got up. + </p> + <p> + "All this is very trying," said Psmith. "I'm seeing nothing of you today." + He turned to the small boy. "Tell Willie," he added, "that Mr. Jackson + will be with him in a moment." + </p> + <p> + The emissary departed. + </p> + <p> + "<i>You're</i> all right," said Psmith encouragingly. "Just you keep on + saying you're all right. Stout denial is the thing. Don't go in for any + airy explanations. Simply stick to stout denial. You can't beat it." + </p> + <p> + With which expert advice, he allowed Mike to go on his way. + </p> + <p> + He had not been gone two minutes, when Psmith, who had leaned back in his + chair, rapt in thought, heaved himself up again. He stood for a moment + straightening his tie at the looking glass; then he picked up his hat and + moved slowly out of the door and down the passage. Thence, at the same + dignified rate of progress, out of the house and in at Downing's front + gate. + </p> + <p> + The postman was at the door when he got there, apparently absorbed in + conversation with the parlor maid. Psmith stood by politely till the + postman, who had just been told it was like his impudence, caught sight of + him, and, having handed over the letters in an ultraformal and + professional manner, passed away. + </p> + <p> + "Is Mr. Downing at home?" inquired Psmith. + </p> + <p> + He was, it seemed. Psmith was shown into the dining room on the left of + the hall, and requested to wait. He was examining a portrait of Mr. + Downing which hung on the wall when the housemaster came in. + </p> + <p> + "An excellent likeness, sir," said Psmith, with a gesture of the hand + toward the painting. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Smith," said Mr. Downing shortly, "what do you wish to see me + about?" + </p> + <p> + "It was in connection with the regrettable painting of your dog, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Ha!" said Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "I did it, sir," said Psmith, stopping and flicking a piece of fluff off + his knee. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 29 — THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + </h2> + <p> + The line of action which Psmith had called Stout Denial is an excellent + line to adopt, especially if you really are innocent, but it does not lead + to anything in the shape of a bright and snappy dialogue between accuser + and accused. Both Mike and the headmaster were oppressed by a feeling that + the situation was difficult. The atmosphere was heavy, and conversation + showed a tendency to flag. The headmaster had opened brightly enough, with + a summary of the evidence which Mr. Downing had laid before him, but after + that a massive silence had been the order of the day. There is nothing in + this world quite so stolid and uncommunicative as a boy who has made up + his mind to be stolid and uncommunicative; and the headmaster, as he sat + and looked at Mike, who sat and looked past him at the bookshelves, felt + awkward. It was a scene which needed either a dramatic interruption or a + neat exit speech. As it happened, what it got was the dramatic + interruption. + </p> + <p> + The headmaster was just saying, "I do not think you fully realize, + Jackson, the extent to which appearances ..."—which was practically + going back to the beginning and starting again—when there was a + knock at the door. A voice without said, "Mr. Downing to see you, sir," + and the chief witness for the prosecution burst in. + </p> + <p> + "I would not have interrupted you," said Mr. Downing, "but—" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything I can ..." + </p> + <p> + "I have discovered ... I have been informed ... In short, it was not + Jackson, who committed the—who painted my dog." + </p> + <p> + Mike and the headmaster both looked at the speaker. Mike with a feeling of + relief—for Stout Denial, unsupported by any weighty evidence, is a + wearing game to play—the headmaster with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "Not Jackson?" said the headmaster. + </p> + <p> + "No. It was a boy in the same house. Smith." + </p> + <p> + Psmith! Mike was more than surprised. He could not believe it. There is + nothing which affords so clear an index to a boy's character as the type + of rag which he considers humorous. Between what is a rag and what is + merely a rotten trick there is a very definite line drawn. Masters, as a + rule, do not realize this, but boys nearly always do. Mike could not + imagine Psmith doing a rotten thing like covering a housemaster's dog with + red paint, any more than he could imagine doing it himself. They had both + been amused at the sight of Sammy after the operation, but anybody, except + possibly the owner of the dog, would have thought it funny at first. After + the first surprise, their feeling had been that it was a rotten thing to + have done and beastly rough luck on the poor brute. It was a kid's trick. + As for Psmith having done it, Mike simply did not believe it. + </p> + <p> + "Smith!" said the headmaster. "What makes you think that?" + </p> + <p> + "Simply this," said Mr. Downing, with calm triumph, "that the boy himself + came to me a few moments ago and confessed." + </p> + <p> + Mike was conscious of a feeling of acute depression. It did not make him + in the least degree jubilant, or even thankful, to know that he himself + was cleared of the charge. All he could think of was that Psmith was done + for. This was bound to mean the sack. If Psmith had painted Sammy it meant + that Psmith had broken out of his house at night; and it was not likely + that the rules about nocturnal wandering were less strict at Sedleigh than + at any other school in the kingdom. Mike felt, if possible, worse than he + had felt when Wyatt had been caught on a similar occasion. It seemed as if + Fate had a special grudge against his best friends. He did not make + friends very quickly or easily, though he had always had scores of + acquaintances—and with Wyatt and Psmith he had found himself at home + from the first moment he had met them. + </p> + <p> + He sat there, with a curious feeling of having swallowed a heavy weight, + hardly listening to what Mr. Downing was saying. Mr. Downing was talking + rapidly to the headmaster, who was nodding from time to time. + </p> + <p> + Mike took advantage of a pause to get up. "May I go, sir?" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly, Jackson, certainly," said the Head. "Oh, and er—if you + are going back to your house, tell Smith that I should like to see him." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + He had reached the door, when again there was a knock. + </p> + <p> + "Come in," said the headmaster. + </p> + <p> + It was Adair. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Adair?" + </p> + <p> + Adair was breathing rather heavily, as if he had been running. + </p> + <p> + "It was about Sammy—Sampson, sir," he said, looking at Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, we know ... Well, Adair, what did you wish to say?" + </p> + <p> + "It wasn't Jackson who did it, sir." + </p> + <p> + "No, no, Adair. So Mr. Downing—" + </p> + <p> + "It was Dunster, sir." + </p> + <p> + Terrific sensation! The headmaster gave a sort of strangled yelp of + astonishment. Mr. Downing leaped in his chair. Mike's eyes opened to their + fullest extent. + </p> + <p> + "Adair!" + </p> + <p> + There was almost a wail in the headmaster's voice. The situation had + suddenly become too much for him. His brain was swimming. That Mike, + despite the evidence against him, should be innocent, was curious, + perhaps, but not particularly startling. But that Adair should inform him, + two minutes after Mr. Downing's announcement of Psmith's confession, that + Psmith, too, was guiltless, and that the real criminal was Dunster—it + was this that made him feel that somebody, in the words of an American + author, had played a mean trick on him, and substituted for his brain a + side order of cauliflower. Why Dunster, of all people? Dunster, who, he + remembered dizzily, had left the school at Christmas. And why, if Dunster + had really painted the dog, had Psmith asserted that he himself was the + culprit? Why—why anything? He concentrated his mind on Adair as the + only person who could save him from impending brain fever. + </p> + <p> + "Adair!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "What—<i>what</i> do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "It <i>was</i> Dunster, sir. I got a letter from him only five minutes + ago, in which he said that he had painted Sammy—Sampson, the dog, + sir, for a rag—for a joke, and that, as he didn't want anyone here + to get into a row—be punished for it, I'd better tell Mr. Downing at + once. I tried to find Mr. Downing, but he wasn't in the house. Then I met + Smith outside the house, and he told me that Mr. Downing had gone over to + see you, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Smith told you?" said Mr. Downing. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Did you say anything to him about your having received this letter from + Dunster?" + </p> + <p> + "I gave him the letter to read, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And what was his attitude when he had read it?" + </p> + <p> + "He laughed, sir." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Laughed</i>!" Mr. Downing's voice was thunderous. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. He rolled about." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing snorted. + </p> + <p> + "But Adair," said the headmaster, "I do not understand how this thing + could have been done by Dunster. He has left the school." + </p> + <p> + "He was down here for the Old Sedleighans' match, sir. He stopped the + night in the village." + </p> + <p> + "And that was the night the—it happened?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "I see. Well, I am glad to find that the blame can not be attached to any + boy in the school. I am sorry that it is even an Old Boy. It was a + foolish, discreditable thing to have done, but it is not as bad as if any + boy still at the school had broken out of his house at night to do it." + </p> + <p> + "The sergeant," said Mr. Downing, "told me that the boy he saw was + attempting to enter Mr. Outwood's house." + </p> + <p> + "Another freak of Dunster's, I suppose," said the headmaster. "I shall + write to him." + </p> + <p> + "If it was really Dunster who painted my dog," said Mr. Downing, "I cannot + understand the part played by Smith in this affair. If he did not do it, + what possible motive could he have had for coming to me of his own accord + and deliberately confessing?" + </p> + <p> + "To be sure," said the headmaster, pressing a bell. "It is certainly a + thing that calls for explanation. Barlow," he said, as the butler + appeared, "kindly go across to Mr. Outwood's house and inform Smith that I + should like to see him." + </p> + <p> + "If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall." + </p> + <p> + "In the hall!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would + wait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly." + </p> + <p> + "H'm. Ask him to step up, Barlow." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + There followed one of the tensest "stage waits" of Mike's experience. It + was not long, but, while it lasted, the silence was quite solid. Nobody + seemed to have anything to say, and there was not even a clock in the room + to break the stillness with its ticking. A very faint drip-drip of rain + could be heard outside the window. + </p> + <p> + Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door was + opened. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Smith, sir." + </p> + <p> + The Old Etonian entered as would the guest of the evening who is a few + moments late for dinner. He was cheerful, but slightly deprecating. He + gave the impression of one who, though sure of his welcome, feels that + some slight apology is expected from him. He advanced into the room with a + gentle half-smile which suggested good will to all men. + </p> + <p> + "It is still raining," he observed. "You wished to see me, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, Smith." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, sir." + </p> + <p> + He dropped into a deep armchair (which both Adair and Mike had avoided in + favor of less luxurious seats) with the confidential cosiness of a + fashionable physician calling on a patient, between whom and himself time + has broken down the barriers of restraint and formality. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken its banks. + </p> + <p> + "Smith." + </p> + <p> + Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster's direction. + </p> + <p> + "Smith, you came to me a quarter of an hour ago and told me that it was + you who had painted my dog Sampson." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "It was absolutely untrue?" + </p> + <p> + "I am afraid so, sir." + </p> + <p> + "But, Smith ..." began the headmaster. + </p> + <p> + Psmith bent forward encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + "... This is a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation to + offer? What induced you to do such a thing?" + </p> + <p> + Psmith sighed softly. + </p> + <p> + "The craze of notoriety, sir," he replied sadly. "The curse of the present + age." + </p> + <p> + "What!" replied the headmaster. + </p> + <p> + "It is remarkable," proceeded Psmith placidly, with the impersonal touch + of one lecturing on generalities, "how frequently, when a murder has been + committed, one finds men confessing that they have done it when it is out + of the question that they should have committed it. It is one of the most + interesting problems with which anthropologists are confronted. Human + nature—" + </p> + <p> + The headmaster interrupted. + </p> + <p> + "Smith," he said, "I should like to see you alone for a moment. Mr. + Downing, might I trouble...? Adair, Jackson." + </p> + <p> + He made a motion toward the door. + </p> + <p> + When he and Psmith were alone, there was silence. Psmith leaned back + comfortably in his chair. The headmaster tapped nervously with his foot on + the floor. + </p> + <p> + "Er ... Smith." + </p> + <p> + "Sir?" + </p> + <p> + The headmaster seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding. He paused + again. Then he went on. + </p> + <p> + "Er ... Smith, I do not for a moment wish to pain you, but have you ... + er, do you remember ever having had, as a child, let us say, any ... er + ... severe illness? Any ... er ... <i>mental</i> illness?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir." + </p> + <p> + "There is no—forgive me if I am touching on a sad subject—there + is no ... none of your near relatives have ever suffered in the way I ... + er ... have described?" + </p> + <p> + "There isn't a lunatic on the list, sir," said Psmith cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + "Of course, Smith, of course," said the headmaster hurriedly, "I did not + mean to suggest—quite so, quite so. ... You think, then, that you + confessed to an act which you had not committed purely from some sudden + impulse which you cannot explain?" + </p> + <p> + "Strictly between ourselves, sir ..." + </p> + <p> + Privately, the headmaster found Psmith's man-to-man attitude somewhat + disconcerting, but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Smith?" + </p> + <p> + "I should not like it to go any further, sir." + </p> + <p> + "I will certainly respect any confidence ..." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want anybody to know, sir. This is strictly between ourselves." + </p> + <p> + "I think you are sometimes apt to forget, Smith, the proper relations + existing between boy and—Well, never mind that for the present. We + can return to it later. For the moment, let me hear what you wish to say. + I shall, of course, tell nobody, if you do not wish it." + </p> + <p> + "Well, it was like this, sir," said Psmith, "Jackson happened to tell me + that you and Mr. Downing seemed to think he had painted Mr. Downing's dog, + and there seemed some danger of his being expelled, so I thought it + wouldn't be an unsound scheme if I were to go and say I had done it. That + was the whole thing. Of course, Dunster writing created a certain amount + of confusion." + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + "It was a very wrong thing to do, Smith," said the headmaster, at last, + "but.... You are a curious boy, Smith. Good night." + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + "Good night, sir," said Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "Not a bad old sort," said Psmith meditatively to himself, as he walked + downstairs. "By no means a bad old sort. I must drop in from time to time + and cultivate him." + </p> + <p> + Mike and Adair were waiting for him outside the front door. + </p> + <p> + "Well?" said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i> the limit," said Adair. "What's he done?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing. We had a very pleasant chat, and then I tore myself away." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean to say he's not going to do a thing?" + </p> + <p> + "Not a thing." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you're a marvel," said Adair. + </p> + <p> + Psmith thanked him courteously. They walked on toward the houses. + </p> + <p> + "By the way, Adair," said Mike, as the latter started to turn in at + Downing's, "I'll write to Strachan tonight about that match." + </p> + <p> + "What's that?" asked Psmith. + </p> + <p> + "Jackson's going to try and get Wrykyn to give us a game," said Adair. + "They've got a vacant date. I hope the dickens they'll do it." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I should think they're certain to," said Mike. "Good night." + </p> + <p> + "And give Comrade Downing, when you see him," said Psmith, "my very best + love. It is men like him who make this Merrie England of ours what it is." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + "I say, Psmith," said Mike suddenly, "what really made you tell Downing + you'd done it?" + </p> + <p> + "The craving for—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, chuck it. You aren't talking to the Old Man now. I believe it was + simply to get me out of a jolly tight corner." + </p> + <p> + Psmith's expression was one of pain. + </p> + <p> + "My dear Comrade Jackson," said he, "you wrong me. You make me writhe. I'm + surprised at you. I never thought to hear those words from Michael + Jackson." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I believe you did, all the same," said Mike obstinately. "And it + was jolly good of you, too." + </p> + <p> + Psmith moaned. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 30 — SEDLEIGH V. WRYKYN + </h2> + <p> + The Wrykyn match was three parts over, and things were going badly for + Sedleigh. In a way one might have said that the game was over, and that + Sedleigh had lost; for it was a one-day match, and Wrykyn, who had led on + the first innings, had only to play out time to make the game theirs. + </p> + <p> + Sedleigh were paying the penalty for allowing themselves to be influenced + by nerves in the early part of the day. Nerves lose more school matches + than good play ever won. There is a certain type of school batsman who is + a gift to any bowler when he once lets his imagination run away with him. + Sedleigh, with the exception of Adair, Psmith, and Mike, had entered upon + this match in a state of the most azure funk. Ever since Mike had received + Strachan's answer and Adair had announced on the notice board that on + Saturday, July the twentieth, Sedleigh would play Wrykyn, the team had + been all on the jump. It was useless for Adair to tell them, as he did + repeatedly, on Mike's authority, that Wrykyn were weak this season, and + that on their present form Sedleigh ought to win easily. The team + listened, but were not comforted. Wrykyn might be below their usual + strength, but then Wrykyn cricket, as a rule, reached such a high standard + that this probably meant little. However weak Wrykyn might be—for + them—there was a very firm impression among the members of the + Sedleigh first eleven that the other school was quite strong enough to + knock the cover off <i>them</i>. Experience counts enormously in school + matches. Sedleigh had never been proved. The teams they played were the + sort of sides which the Wrykyn second eleven would play. Whereas Wrykyn, + from time immemorial, had been beating Ripton teams and Free Foresters + teams and M.C.C. teams packed with county men and sending men to Oxford + and Cambridge who got their blues as freshmen. + </p> + <p> + Sedleigh had gone onto the field that morning a depressed side. + </p> + <p> + It was unfortunate that Adair had won the toss. He had had no choice but + to take first innings. The weather had been bad for the last week, and the + wicket was slow and treacherous. It was likely to get worse during the + day, so Adair had chosen to bat first. + </p> + <p> + Taking into consideration the state of nerves the team was in, this in + itself was a calamity. A school eleven are always at their worst and + nerviest before lunch. Even on their own ground they find the surroundings + lonely and unfamiliar. The subtlety of the bowlers becomes magnified. + Unless the first pair make a really good start, a collapse almost + invariably ensues. + </p> + <p> + Today the start had been gruesome beyond words. Mike, the bulwark of the + side, the man who had been brought up on Wrykyn bowling, and from whom, + whatever might happen to the others, at least a fifty was expected—Mike, + going in first with Barnes and taking first over, had played inside one + from Bruce, the Wrykyn slow bowler, and had been caught at short slip off + his second ball. + </p> + <p> + That put the finishing touch on the panic. Stone, Robinson, and the + others, all quite decent punishing batsmen when their nerves allowed them + to play their own game, crawled to the wickets, declined to hit out at + anything, and were clean bowled, several of them, playing back to half + volleys. Adair did not suffer from panic, but his batting was not equal to + his bowling, and he had fallen after hitting one four. Seven wickets were + down for thirty when Psmith went in. + </p> + <p> + Psmith had always disclaimed any pretensions to batting skill, but he was + undoubtedly the right man for a crisis like this. He had an enormous + reach, and he used it. Three consecutive balls from Bruce he turned into + full tosses and swept to the leg boundary, and, assisted by Barnes, who + had been sitting on the splice in his usual manner, he raised the total to + seventy-one before being yorked, with his score at thirty-five. Ten + minutes later the innings was over, with Barnes not out sixteen, for + seventy-nine. + </p> + <p> + Wrykyn had then gone in, lost Strachan for twenty before lunch, and + finally completed their innings at a quarter to four for a hundred and + thirty-one. + </p> + <p> + This was better than Sedleigh had expected. At least eight of the team had + looked forward dismally to an afternoon's leather hunting. But Adair and + Psmith, helped by the wicket, had never been easy, especially Psmith, who + had taken six wickets, his slows playing havoc with the tail. + </p> + <p> + It would be too much to say that Sedleigh had any hope of pulling the game + out of the fire; but it was a comfort, they felt, at any rate, having + another knock. As is usual at this stage of a match, their nervousness had + vanished, and they felt capable of better things than in the first + innings. + </p> + <p> + It was on Mike's suggestion that Psmith and he went in first. Mike knew + the limitations of the Wrykyn bowling, and he was convinced that, if they + could knock Bruce off, it might be possible to rattle up a score + sufficient to give them the game, always provided Wrykyn collapsed in the + second innings. And it seemed to Mike that the wicket would be so bad then + that they easily might. + </p> + <p> + So he and Psmith had gone in at four o'clock to hit. And they had hit. The + deficit had been wiped off, all but a dozen runs, when Psmith was bowled, + and by that time Mike was set and in his best vein. He treated all the + bowlers alike. And when Stone came in, restored to his proper frame of + mind, and lashed out stoutly, and after him Robinson and the rest, it + looked as if Sedleigh had a chance again. The score was a hundred and + twenty when Mike, who had just reached his fifty, skied one to Strachan at + cover. The time was twenty-five past five. + </p> + <p> + As Mike reached the pavilion, Adair declared the innings closed. + </p> + <p> + Wrykyn started batting at twenty-five minutes to six, with sixty-nine to + make if they wished to make them, and an hour and ten minutes during which + to keep up their wickets if they preferred to take things easy and go for + a win on the first innings. + </p> + <p> + At first it looked as if they meant to knock off the runs, for Strachan + forced the game from the first ball, which was Psmith's, and which he hit + into the pavilion. But, at fifteen, Adair bowled him. And when, two runs + later, Psmith got the next man stumped, and finished up his over with a + c-and-b, Wrykyn decided that it was not good enough. Seventeen for three, + with an hour all but five minutes to go, was getting too dangerous. So + Drummond and Rigby, the next pair, proceeded to play with caution, and the + collapse ceased. + </p> + <p> + This was the state of the game at the point at which this chapter opened. + Seventeen for three had become twenty-four for three, and the hands of the + clock stood at ten minutes past six. Changes of bowling had been tried, + but there seemed no chance of getting past the batsmen's defence. They + were playing all the good balls, and refused to hit at the bad. + </p> + <p> + A quarter past six struck, and then Psmith made a suggestion which altered + the game completely. + </p> + <p> + "Why don't you have a shot this end?" he said to Adair, as they were + crossing over. "There's a spot on the off which might help you a lot. You + can break like blazes if only you land on it. It doesn't help my leg + breaks a bit, because they won't hit at them." + </p> + <p> + Barnes was on the point of beginning to bowl when Adair took the ball from + him. The captain of Outwood's retired to short leg with an air that + suggested that he was glad to be relieved of his prominent post. The next + moment Drummond's off stump was lying at an angle of forty-five. Adair was + absolutely accurate as a bowler, and he had dropped his first ball right + on the worn patch. + </p> + <p> + Two minutes later Drummond's successor was retiring to the pavilion, while + the wicket keeper straightened the stumps again. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing like a couple of unexpected wickets for altering the + atmosphere of a game. Five minutes before, Sedleigh had been lethargic and + without hope. Now there was a stir and buzz all around the ground. There + were twenty-five minutes to go, and five wickets were down. Sedleigh was + on top again. + </p> + <p> + The next man seemed to take an age coming out. As a matter of fact, he + walked more rapidly than a batsman usually walks to the crease. + </p> + <p> + Adair's third ball dropped just short of the spot. The batsman, hitting + out, was a shade too soon. The ball hummed through the air a couple of + feet from the ground in the direction of mid off, and Mike, diving to the + right, got to it as he was falling, and chucked it up. + </p> + <p> + After that the thing was a walk over. Psmith clean bowled a man in his + next over: and the tail, demoralized by the sudden change in the game, + collapsed uncompromisingly. Sedleigh won by thirty-five runs with eight + minutes in hand. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Psmith and Mike sat in their study after lockup, discussing things in + general and the game in particular. "I feel like a beastly renegade, + playing against Wrykyn," said Mike. "Still, I'm glad we won. Adair's a + jolly good sort and it'll make him happy for weeks." + </p> + <p> + "When I last saw Comrade Adair," said Psmith, "he was going about in a + sort of trance, beaming vaguely and wanting to stand people things at the + shop." + </p> + <p> + "He bowled awfully well." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Psmith. "I say, I don't wish to cast a gloom over this joyful + occasion in any way, but you say Wrykyn are going to give Sedleigh a + fixture again next year?" + </p> + <p> + "Well?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, have you thought of the massacre which will ensue? You will have + left, Adair will have left. Incidentally, I shall have left. Wrykyn will + swamp them." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose they will. Still, the great thing, you see, is to get the thing + started. That's what Adair was so keen on. Now Sedleigh has beaten Wrykyn, + he's satisfied. They can get fixtures with decent clubs, and work up to + playing the big schools. You've got to start somehow. So it's all right, + you see." + </p> + <p> + "And, besides," said Psmith, reflectively, "in an emergency they can + always get Comrade Downing to bowl for them, what? Let us now sally out + and see if we can't promote a rag of some sort in this abode of wrath. + Comrade Outwood has gone over to dinner at the School House, and it would + be a pity to waste a somewhat golden opportunity. Shall we stagger?" + </p> + <p> + They staggered. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10586 ***</div> + </body> +</html> + |