"And we can have the room, sir?" "Certainly--certainly! Tell the matron as you go down." "And now," said Psmith, as they returned to the study, "we may say that we are in a fairly winning position. A vote of thanks to Comrade Jellicoe for his valuable assistance." "You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. The handle began to revolve again. "That door," said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into one's leisure cruelly." This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you to come down," he said. Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass. "Who?" "The senior day room chaps." "Spiller?" "Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps." "They want us to speak to them?" "They told me to come up and tell you to come down." "Go and give Comrade Spiller our compliments and say that we can't come down, but shall be delighted to see him up here. Things," he said, as the messenger departed, "are beginning to move. Better leave the door open, I think; it will save trouble. Ah, come in, Comrade Spiller, what can we do for you?" Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding in the doorway. "Look here," said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or not?" "After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest a black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller." "You'll get it hot, if you don't." "We'll risk it," said Mike. Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere appealed to him. His was a simple and appreciative mind. "Come on, you chaps," cried Spiller suddenly. There was an inward rush on the enemy's part, but Mike had been watching. He grabbed Spiller by the shoulders and ran him back against the advancing crowd. For a moment the doorway was blocked, then the weight and impetus of Mike and Spiller prevailed, the enemy gave back, and Mike, stepping into the room again, slammed the door and locked it. "A neat piece of work," said Psmith approvingly, adjusting his tie at the looking glass. "The preliminaries may now be considered over, the first shot has been fired. The dogs of war are now loose." A heavy body crashed against the door. "They'll have it down," said Jellicoe. "We must act, Comrade Jackson! Might I trouble you just to turn that key quietly, and the handle, and then to stand by for the next attack." There was a scrambling of feet in the passage outside, and then a repetition of the onslaught on the door. This time, however, the door, instead of resisting, swung open, and the human battering ram staggered through into the study. Mike, turning after relocking the door, was just in time to see Psmith, with a display of energy of which one would not have believed him capable, grip the invader scientifically by an arm and a leg. Mike jumped to help, but it was needless; the captive was already on the windowsill. As Mike arrived, Psmith dropped him onto the flowerbed below.