Mike remained in the deck chair in which he was
sitting, and contented himself with glaring at the newcomer.
Psmith was the first to speak.
"If you ask my candid opinion," he said, looking up from his paper, "I
should say that young Lord Antony Trefusis was in the soup already. I
seem to see the consomme splashing about his ankles. He's had a note
telling him to be under the oak tree in the Park at midnight. He's just
off there at the end of this installment. I bet Long Jack, the poacher,
is waiting there with a sandbag. Care to see the paper, Comrade Adair?
Or don't you take any interest in contemporary literature?"
"Thanks," said Adair. "I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a minute."
"Fate," said Psmith, "has led your footsteps to the right place. This is
Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before you."
"What do you want?" said Mike.
He suspected that Adair had come to ask him once again to play for the
school. The fact that the M.C.C. match was on the following day made
this a probable solution of the reason for his visit. He could think of
no other errand that was likely to have set the head of Downing's paying
afternoon calls.
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