Mike

by P. G. Wodehouse

  CHAPTER L

  THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE

  The boot became the centre of attraction, the cynosure of all eyes.Mr. Downing fixed it with the piercing stare of one who feels that hisbrain is tottering. The headmaster looked at it with a mildly puzzledexpression. Psmith, putting up his eyeglass, gazed at it with a sortof affectionate interest, as if he were waiting for it to do a trickof some kind.

  Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence.

  "There was paint on this boot," he said vehemently. "I tell you therewas a splash of red paint across the toe. Smith will bear me out inthis. Smith, you saw the paint on this boot?"

  "Paint, sir!"

  "What! Do you mean to tell me that you did _not_ see it?"

  "No, sir. There was no paint on this boot."

  "This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splashright across the toe."

  The headmaster interposed.

  "You must have made a mistake, Mr. Downing. There is certainly notrace of paint on this boot. These momentary optical delusions are,I fancy, not uncommon. Any doctor will tell you----"

  "I had an aunt, sir," said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkablysubject----"

  "It is absurd. I cannot have been mistaken," said Mr. Downing. "I ampositively certain the toe of this boot was red when I found it."

  "It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing."

  "A sort of chameleon boot," murmured Psmith.

  The goaded housemaster turned on him.

  "What did you say, Smith?"

  "Did I speak, sir?" said Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenlyout of a trance.

  Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him.

  "You had better be careful, Smith."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I strongly suspect you of having something to do with this."

  "Really, Mr. Downing," said the headmaster, "that is surelyimprobable. Smith could scarcely have cleaned the boot on his way tomy house. On one occasion I inadvertently spilt some paint on a shoeof my own. I can assure you that it does not brush off. It needs avery systematic cleaning before all traces are removed."

  "Exactly, sir," said Psmith. "My theory, if I may----?"

  "Certainly, Smith."

  Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded.

  "My theory, sir, is that Mr. Downing was deceived by the light andshade effects on the toe of the boot. The afternoon sun, streaming inthrough the window, must have shone on the boot in such a manner as togive it a momentary and fictitious aspect of redness. If Mr. Downingrecollects, he did not look long at the boot. The picture on theretina of the eye, consequently, had not time to fade. I rememberthinking myself, at the moment, that the boot appeared to have acertain reddish tint. The mistake----"

  "Bah!" said Mr. Downing shortly.

  "Well, really," said the headmaster, "it seems to me that that is theonly explanation that will square with the facts. A boot that isreally smeared with red paint does not become black of itself in thecourse of a few minutes."

  "You are very right, sir," said Psmith with benevolent approval. "MayI go now, sir? I am in the middle of a singularly impressive passageof Cicero's speech De Senectute."

  "I am sorry that you should leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith.It is a habit of which I altogether disapprove."

  "I am reading it, sir," said Psmith, with simple dignity, "forpleasure. Shall I take the boot with me, sir?"

  "If Mr. Downing does not want it?"

  The housemaster passed the fraudulent piece of evidence to Psmithwithout a word, and the latter, having included both masters in akindly smile, left the garden.

  Pedestrians who had the good fortune to be passing along the roadbetween the housemaster's house and Mr. Outwood's at that moment sawwhat, if they had but known it, was a most unusual sight, thespectacle of Psmith running. Psmith's usual mode of progression was adignified walk. He believed in the contemplative style rather than thehustling.

  On this occasion, however, reckless of possible injuries to the creaseof his trousers, he raced down the road, and turning in at Outwood'sgate, bounded upstairs like a highly trained professional athlete.

  On arriving at the study, his first act was to remove a boot from thetop of the pile in the basket, place it in the small cupboard underthe bookshelf, and lock the cupboard. Then he flung himself into achair and panted.

  "Brain," he said to himself approvingly, "is what one chiefly needs inmatters of this kind. Without brain, where are we? In the soup, everytime. The next development will be when Comrade Downing thinks itover, and is struck with the brilliant idea that it's just possiblethat the boot he gave me to carry and the boot I did carry were notone boot but two boots. Meanwhile----"

  He dragged up another chair for his feet and picked up his novel.

  He had not been reading long when there was a footstep in the passage,and Mr. Downing appeared.

  The possibility, in fact the probability, of Psmith having substitutedanother boot for the one with the incriminating splash of paint on ithad occurred to him almost immediately on leaving the headmaster'sgarden. Psmith and Mike, he reflected, were friends. Psmith's impulsewould be to do all that lay in his power to shield Mike. Feelingaggrieved 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 boots 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 yourhelp."

  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 theeyeglass in his waistcoat pocket. He rested his elbows on his knees,and his chin on his hands, and resumed his contemplative inspection ofthe boot-expert, who, after fidgeting for a few moments, lodgedanother complaint.

  "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 thoroughlyirritated, pursued his investigations in the boot-basket.

  He went through it twice, but each time without success. After thesecond search, he stood up, and looked wildly round the room. He wasas certain as he could be of anything that the missing piece ofevidence was somewhere in the study. It was no use asking Psmithpoint-blank where it was, for Psmith's ability to parry dangerousquestions with evasive answers was quite out of the common.

  His eye roamed about the room. There was very little cover there, evenfor so small a fugitive as a number nine boot. The floor could beacquitted, on sight, of harbouring the quarry.

  Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell himthat 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. This cupboard." Mr. Downing rapped the door irritably.

  "Just a few odd trifles, sir. We do not often use it. A ball ofstring, perhaps. Possibly an old note-book. Nothing of value orinterest."

  "Open it."

  "I think you will find that it is locked, sir."

  "Unlock it."

  "But where is the key, sir?"

  "Have you not got the key?"

  "If the key is not in the lock, sir, you may depend upon it that itwill take a long search to
find it."

  "Where did you see it last?"

  "It was in the lock yesterday morning. Jackson might have taken it."

  "Where is Jackson?"

  "Out in the field somewhere, sir."

  Mr. Downing thought for a moment.

  "I don't believe a word of it," he said shortly. "I have my reasonsfor thinking that you are deliberately keeping the contents of thatcupboard from me. I shall break open the door."

  Psmith got up.

  "I'm afraid you mustn't do that, sir."

  Mr. Downing stared, amazed.

  "Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?" he inquired acidly.

  "Yes, sir. And I know it's not Mr. Outwood, to whom that cupboardhappens to belong. If you wish to break it open, you must get hispermission. He is the sole lessee and proprietor of that cupboard. Iam only the acting manager."

  Mr. Downing paused. He also reflected. Mr. Outwood in the general ruledid not count much in the scheme of things, but possibly there werelimits to the treating of him as if he did not exist. To enter hishouse without his permission and search it to a certain extent was allvery well. But when it came to breaking up his furniture, perhaps----!

  On the other hand, there was the maddening thought that if he leftthe study in search of Mr. Outwood, in order to obtain his sanctionfor the house-breaking work which he proposed to carry through,Smith would be alone in the room. And he knew that, if Smith wereleft alone in the room, he would instantly remove the boot to someother hiding-place. He thoroughly disbelieved the story of the lostkey. He was perfectly convinced that the missing boot was in thecupboard.

  He stood chewing these thoughts for awhile, Psmith in the meantimestanding in a graceful attitude in front of the cupboard, staring intovacancy.

  Then he was seized with a happy idea. Why should he leave the room atall? If he sent Smith, then he himself could wait and make certainthat the cupboard was not tampered with.

  "Smith," he said, "go and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be goodenough to come here for a moment."