6
UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS
Jellicoe, that human encyclopedia, consulted on the probable movementsof the enemy, deposed that Spiller, retiring at ten, would make forDormitory One in the same passage, where Robinson also had a bed. Therest of the opposing forces were distributed among other and moredistant rooms. It was probable, therefore, that Dormitory One would bethe rendezvous. As to the time when an attack might be expected, it wasunlikely that it would occur before half past eleven. Mr. Outwood wentthe round of the dormitories at eleven.
"And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business beconducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let ourselvesgo a bit here and there?"
"I shouldn't think old Outwood's likely to hear you--he sleeps milesaway on the other side of the house. He never hears anything. We oftenrag half the night and nothing happens."
"This appears to be a thoroughly nice, well-conducted establishment.What would my mother say if she could see her Rupert in the midst ofthese reckless youths!"
"All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in andstopping the show before it's half started."
"Comrade Jackson's berserk blood is up--I can hear it sizzling. I quiteagree these things are all very disturbing and painful, but it's as wellto do them thoroughly when one's once in for them. Is there nobody elsewho might interfere with our gambols?"
"Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't."
"Who is Barnes?"
"Head of the house--a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; theyrag him; he'll simply sit tight."
"Then I think," said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a verypleasant evening. Shall we be moving?"
Mr. Outwood paid his visit at eleven, as predicted by Jellicoe, beamingvaguely into the darkness over a torch, and disappeared again,closing the door.
"How about that door?" said Mike. "Shall we leave it open for them?"
"Not so, but far otherwise. If it's shut we shall hear them at it whenthey come. Subject to your approval, Comrade Jackson, I have evolved thefollowing plan of action. I always ask myself on these occasions, 'Whatwould Napoleon have done?' I think Napoleon would have sat in a chair byhis washhand stand, which is close to the door; he would have posted youby your washhand stand, and he would have instructed Comrade Jellicoe,directly he heard the door handle turned, to give his celebratedimitation of a dormitory breathing heavily in its sleep. Hewould then--"
"I tell you what," said Mike, "How about tying a string at the top ofthe steps?"
"Yes, Napoleon would have done that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson,the man with the big brain!"
The floor of the dormitory was below the level of the door. There werethree steps leading down to it. Psmith switched on his torch and theyexamined the ground. The leg of a wardrobe and the leg of Jellicoe's bedmade it possible for the string to be fastened in a satisfactory manneracross the lower step. Psmith surveyed the result with approval.
"Dashed neat!" he said. "Practically the sunken road which dished theCuirassiers at Waterloo. I seem to see Comrade Spiller coming one of thefinest purlers in the world's history."
"If they've got a torch--"
"They won't have. If they have, stand by and grab it at once; thenthey'll charge forward and all will be well. If they have no light, fireinto the brown with a jug of water. Lest we forget, I'll collar ComradeJellicoe's jug now and keep it handy. A couple of sheets would also notbe amiss--we will enmesh the enemy!"
"Right ho!" said Mike.
"These humane preparations being concluded," said Psmith, "we willretire to our posts and wait. Comrade Jellicoe, don't forget to breathelike an asthmatic sheep when you hear the door opened; they may wait atthe top of the steps, listening."
"You _are_ a lad!" said Jellicoe.
Waiting in the dark for something to happen is always a tryingexperience, especially if, as on this occasion, silence is essential.Mike was tired after his journey, and he had begun to doze when he wasjerked back to wakefulness by the stealthy turning of the door handle;the faintest rustle from Psmith's direction followed, and a slightgiggle, succeeded by a series of deep breaths, showed that Jellicoe,too, had heard the noise.
There was a creaking sound.
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 openedthe door and were listening. Jellicoe's breathing grew more asthmatic;he was flinging himself into his part with the wholeheartedness of thetrue artist.
The creak was followed by a sound of whispering, then another creak. Theenemy had advanced to the top step.... Another creak.... The vanguardhad reached the second step.... In another moment--
CRASH!
And at that point the proceedings may be said to have formally opened.
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 thecontents had got to the right address.
Then a hand grabbed his ankle and he went down, a million sparks dancingbefore his eyes as a fist, flying out at a venture, caught him onthe nose.
Mike had not been well disposed toward the invaders before, but now heran amok, hitting out right and left at random. His right missed, buthis left went home hard on some portion of somebody's anatomy. A kickfreed his ankle and he staggered to his feet. At the same moment asudden increase in the general volume of noise spoke eloquently of goodwork that was being put in by Psmith.
Even at that crisis, Mike could not help feeling that if a row of thiscaliber did not draw Mr. Outwood from his bed, he must be an unusualkind of housemaster.
He plunged forward again with outstretched arms, and stumbled and fellover one of the on-the-floor section of the opposing force. They seizedeach other earnestly and rolled across the room till Mike, contriving tosecure his adversary's head, bumped it on the floor with such abandonthat, with a muffled yell, the other let go, and for the second time herose. As he did so he was conscious of a curious thudding sound thatmade itself heard through the other assorted noises of the battle.
All this time the fight had gone on in the blackest darkness, but now alight shone on the proceedings. Interested occupants of otherdormitories, roused from their slumbers, had come to observe the sport.They had switched on the light and were crowding in the doorway.
By the light of this Mike got a swift view of the theater of war. Theenemy appeared to number five. The warrior whose head Mike had bumped onthe floor was Robinson, who was sitting up feeling his skull in agingerly fashion. To Mike's right, almost touching him, was Stone. Inthe direction of the door, Psmith, wielding in his right hand the cordof a dressing gown, was engaging the remaining three with apatient smile.
They were clad in pajamas, and appeared to be feeling the dressing-gowncord acutely.
The sudden light dazed both sides momentarily. The defense was the firstto recover, Mike, with a swing, upsetting Stone, and Psmith, havingseized and emptied Jellicoe's jug over Spiller, getting to work againwith the cord in a manner that roused the utmost enthusiasm of thespectators.
Agility seemed to be the leading feature of Psmith's tactics. He waseverywhere--on Mike's bed, on his own, on Jellicoe's (drawing apassionate complaint from that noncombatant, on whose face heinadvertently trod), on the floor--he ranged the room, sowingdestruction.
The enemy were disheartened; they had started with the idea that thiswas to be a surprise attack, and it was disconcerting to find thegarrison armed at all points. Gradually they edged to the door, and afinal rush sent them through.
"Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was alonein the doorway.
It was a situation which exactly suited his frame of mind; he stoodalone in direct opposition to the community into which Fate hadpitchforked him so abruptly. He liked the feeling; for the first timesince his father had given him his views upon school reports thatmorning in the Easter holidays, he felt satisf
ied with life. He hoped,outnumbered as he was, that the enemy would come on again and not givethe thing up in disgust; he wanted more.
On an occasion like this there is rarely anything approaching concertedaction on the part of the aggressors. When the attack came, it was not acombined attack; Stone, who was nearest to the door, made a sudden dashforward, and Mike hit him under the chin.
Stone drew back, and there was another interval for rest and reflection.
It was interrupted by the reappearance of Psmith, who strolled backalong the passage swinging his dressing-gown cord as if it were someclouded cane.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Comrade Jackson," he said politely. "Dutycalled me elsewhere. With the kindly aid of a guide who knows the lie ofthe land, I have been making a short tour of the dormitories. I havepoured divers jugfuls of water over Comrade Spiller's bed, ComradeRobinson's bed, Comrade Stone's--Spiller, Spiller, these are harshwords; where you pick them up I can't think--not from me. Well, well, Isuppose there must be an end to the pleasantest of functions. Goodnight, good night."
The door closed behind Mike and himself. For ten minutes shufflings andwhisperings went on in the corridor, but nobody touched the handle.
Then there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and silence reigned.
On the following morning there was a notice on the house board. It ran:
INDOOR GAMES
_Dormitory raiders are informed that in future neither Mr. Psmith nor Mr. Jackson will be at home to visitors. This nuisance must now cease._
R. PSMITH. M. JACKSON.