To Mike's right, almost touching him, was Stone. In
the direction of the door, Psmith, wielding in his right hand the cord
of a dressing gown, was engaging the remaining three with a
patient smile.
They were clad in pajamas, and appeared to be feeling the dressing-gown
cord acutely.
The sudden light dazed both sides momentarily. The defense was the first
to recover, Mike, with a swing, upsetting Stone, and Psmith, having
seized and emptied Jellicoe's jug over Spiller, getting to work again
with the cord in a manner that roused the utmost enthusiasm of the
spectators.
Agility seemed to be the leading feature of Psmith's tactics. He was
everywhere--on Mike's bed, on his own, on Jellicoe's (drawing a
passionate complaint from that noncombatant, on whose face he
inadvertently trod), on the floor--he ranged the room, sowing
destruction.
The enemy were disheartened; they had started with the idea that this
was to be a surprise attack, and it was disconcerting to find the
garrison armed at all points. Gradually they edged to the door, and a
final rush sent them through.
"Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was alone
in the doorway.
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