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.
"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 torch--"
"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!"
"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 lad!" 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 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.
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