"Don't sit there staring at me, Smith."
"I was interested in what you were doing, sir."
"Never mind. Don't stare at me in that idiotic way."
"May I read, sir?" asked Psmith, patiently.
"Yes, read if you like."
"Thank you, sir."
Psmith took up his book again, and Mr. Downing, now thoroughly
irritated, pursued his investigations in the boot basket.
He went through it twice, but each time without success. After the
second search, he stood up, and looked wildly round the room. He was as
certain as he could be of anything that the missing piece of evidence
was somewhere in the study. It was no use asking Psmith point-blank
where it was, for Psmith's ability to parry dangerous questions with
evasive answers was quite out of the common.
His eye roamed about the room. There was very little cover there, even
for so small a fugitive as a number nine shoe. The floor could be
acquitted, on sight, of harboring the quarry.
Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell him
that there was the place to look.
"Smith!" he said.
Psmith had been reading placidly all the while.
"Yes, sir?"
"What is in this cupboard?"
"That cupboard, sir?"
"Yes.
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