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Page 89
George Emerson thought it was a burglar. Ashe did not know what
it was, but he knew he wanted to shake it off; so he insinuated a
hand beneath George's chin and pushed upward. George, by this
time parted forever from the tongue, the bread, the knife, the
fork, the salt, the corkscrew and the bottle of white wine, and
having both hands free for the work of the moment, held Ashe with
the left and punched him in the ribs with the right.
Ashe, removing his left arm from George's neck, brought it up as
a reinforcement to his right, and used both as a means of
throttling George. This led George, now permanently underneath,
to grasp Ashe's ears firmly and twist them, relieving the
pressure on his throat and causing Ashe to utter the first vocal
sound of the evening, other than the explosive Ugh! that both had
emitted at the instant of impact.
Ashe dislodged George's hands from his ears and hit George in the
ribs with his elbow. George kicked Ashe on the left ankle. Ashe
rediscovered George's throat and began to squeeze it afresh; and
a pleasant time was being had by all when the Efficient Baxter,
whizzing down the stairs, tripped over Ashe's legs, shot forward
and cannoned into another table, also covered with occasional
china and photographs in frames.
The hall at Blandings Castle was more an extra drawing-room than
a hall; and, when not nursing a sick headache in her bedroom,
Lady Ann Warblington would dispense afternoon tea there to her
guests. Consequently it was dotted pretty freely with small
tables. There were, indeed, no fewer than five more in various
spots, waiting to be bumped into and smashed.
The bumping into and smashing of small tables, however, is a task
that calls for plenty of time, a leisured pursuit; and neither
George nor Ashe, a third party having been added to their little
affair, felt a desire to stay on and do the thing properly. Ashe
was strongly opposed to being discovered and called on to account
for his presence there at that hour; and George, conscious of the
tongue and its adjuncts now strewn about the hall, had a similar
prejudice against the tedious explanations that detection must
involve.
As though by mutual consent each relaxed his grip. They stood
panting for an instant; then, Ashe in the direction where he
supposed the green-baize door of the servants' quarters to be,
George to the staircase that led to his bedroom, they went away
from that place.
They had hardly done so when Baxter, having disassociated himself
from the contents of the table he had upset, began to grope his
way toward the electric-light switch, the same being situated
near the foot of the main staircase. He went on all fours, as a
safer method of locomotion, though slower, than the one he had
attempted before.
Noises began to make themselves heard on the floors above. Roused
by the merry crackle of occasional china, the house party was
bestirring itself to investigate. Voices sounded, muffled and
inquiring.
Meantime Baxter crawled steadily on his hands and knees toward
the light switch. He was in much the same condition as one White
Hope of the ring is after he has put his chin in the way of the
fist of a rival member of the Truck Drivers' Union. He knew that
he was still alive. More he could not say. The mists of sleep,
which still shrouded his brain, and the shake-up he had had from
his encounter with the table, a corner of which he had rammed
with the top of his head, combined to produce a dreamlike state.
And so the Efficient Baxter crawled on; and as he crawled his
hand, advancing cautiously, fell on something--something that was
not alive; something clammy and ice-cold, the touch of which
filled him with a nameless horror.
To say that Baxter's heart stood still would be physiologically
inexact. The heart does not stand still. Whatever the emotions of
its owner, it goes on beating. It would be more accurate to say
that Baxter felt like a man taking his first ride in an express
elevator, who has outstripped his vital organs by several floors
and sees no immediate prospect of their ever catching up with him
again. There was a great cold void where the more intimate parts
of his body should have been. His throat was dry and contracted.
The flesh of his back crawled, for he knew what it was he had
touched.
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