Psmith surveyed the result with approval.
"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."
"If they've got a candle----"
"They won't have. If they have, stand by with your water-jug and douse
it at once; then they'll charge forward and all will be well. If they
have no candle, fling the water at a venture--fire into the brown!
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!"
"Right ho!" said Mike.
"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."
"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe.
Waiting in the dark for something to happen is always a trying
experience, especially if, as on this occasion, silence is essential.
Mike found his thoughts wandering back to the vigil he had kept with
Mr. Wain at Wrykyn on the night when Wyatt had come in through the
window and found authority sitting on his bed, waiting for him. 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.
Pages:
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268