Mike, turning after re-locking the
door, was just in time to see Psmith, with a display of energy of
which one would not have believed him capable, grip the invader
scientifically by an arm and a leg.
Mike jumped to help, but it was needless; the captive was already
on the window-sill. As Mike arrived, Psmith dropped him on to the
flower-bed below.
Psmith closed the window gently and turned to Jellicoe. "Who was our
guest?" he asked, dusting the knees of his trousers where they had
pressed against the wall.
"Robinson. I say, you _are_ a chap!"
"Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson,
always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?"
Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be
heard in the corridor.
Somebody hammered on the door.
"Yes?" called Psmith patiently.
"You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if you
don't."
"Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone."
A bell rang in the distance.
"Tea," said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now."
"They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think," said Mike.
"There's no harm in going out."
The passage was empty when they opened the door; the call to food was
evidently a thing not to be treated lightly by the enemy.
In the dining-room the beleaguered garrison were the object of general
attention.
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