Mr. Downing could not bear
up against this crowning blow. He went down beneath it. In the language
of the ring, he took the count. It was the knockout.
"Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!"
"Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite covered."
"It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir," said Psmith.
His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit.
"You will hear more of this, Smith," he said. "I say you will hear more
of it."
Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead him out to a place where there were
towels, soap, and sponges.
* * * * *
When they had gone, Psmith went to the window, and hauled in the string.
He felt the calm afterglow which comes to the general after a
successfully conducted battle. It had been trying, of course, for a man
of refinement, and it had cut into his afternoon, but on the whole it
had been worth it.
The problem now was what to do with the painted shoe. It would take a
lot of cleaning, he saw, even if he could get hold of the necessary
implements for cleaning it. And he rather doubted if he would be able to
do so. Edmund, the boot-boy, worked in some mysterious cell far from the
madding crowd, at the back of the house.
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