Downing appeared.
The possibility, in fact the probability, of Psmith's having substituted
another shoe for the one with the incriminating splash of paint on it
had occurred to him almost immediately on leaving the headmaster's
garden. Psmith and Mike, he reflected, were friends. Psmith's impulse
would be to do all that lay in his power to shield Mike. Feeling
aggrieved with himself that he had not thought of this before, he, too,
hurried over to Outwood's.
Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory.
"I wish to look at these shoes again," he said. Psmith, with a sigh,
laid down his novel, and rose to assist him.
"Sit down, Smith," said the housemaster. "I can manage without your
help."
Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking up the knees of his trousers,
and watched him with silent interest through his eyeglass.
The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing.
"Put that thing away, Smith," he said.
"That thing, sir?"
"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away."
"Why, sir?"
"Why! Because I tell you to do so."
"I guessed that that was the reason, sir," sighed Psmith, replacing the
eyeglass in his waistcoat pocket. He rested his elbows on his knees, and
his chin on his hands, and resumed his contemplative inspection of the
shoe expert, who, after fidgeting for a few moments, lodged another
complaint.
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