"
"Smith," said Mr. Downing, trembling with excitement, "go and bring
that basket to me here."
Psmith's brain was working rapidly as he went downstairs. What exactly
was at the back of the sleuth's mind, prompting these manoeuvres, 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.
* * * * *
He staggered back with the basket, painfully conscious the while that
it was creasing his waistcoat, and dumped is down on the study floor.
Mr. Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned against the wall,
and straightened out the damaged garment.
"We have here, sir," he said, "a fair selection of our various
bootings."
Mr. Downing looked up.
"You dropped none of the boots on your way up, Smith?"
"Not one, sir. It was a fine performance."
Mr. Downing uttered a grunt of satisfaction, and bent once more to his
task.
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