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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"A Head of Kay's"

What a fool I am to barge about like this."
He felt that the echoes of that crash must have penetrated to every
corner of the house. But no one came. Perhaps, after all, the noise
had not been so great. He proceeded on his journey down the table,
feeling every inch of the way. The place seemed one bristling mass of
chairs. But, by the exercise of consummate caution, he upset no more
and won through at last in safety to the door.
It was at this point that the really lively and exciting part of his
adventure began. Compared with what was to follow, his evening had
been up to the present dull and monotonous.
As he opened the door there was a sudden stir and crash at the other
end of the room. Fenn had upset one chair and the noise had nearly
deafened him. Now chairs seemed to be falling in dozens. Bang! Bang!
Crash!! (two that time). And then somebody shot through the window
like a harlequin and dashed away across the lawn. Fenn could hear his
footsteps thudding on the soft turf. And at the same moment other
footsteps made themselves heard.
Somebody was coming downstairs.
"Who is that? Is anybody there?"
It was Mr Kay's voice, unmistakably nervous. Fenn darted from the door
and across the passage. At the other side was a boot-cupboard. It was
his only refuge in that direction. What he ought to have done was to
leave the dining-room by the opposite door, which led _via_ a
corridor to the junior dayroom.


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