Adams lit his pipe and sat down on the floor in front of the fire, for Maddox happened to be occupying his particular arm-chair. At the moment all the electric lights went out.
“I’d bet a shilling,” said Maddox, “that David’s at the bottom of that. Shall I go and see, sir?”
“Yes, do, and then come back.”
Maddox felt his way along the passage to David’s study, and knocked. He always knocked before he went into other people’s rooms.
“Come in,” shouted David. “But take care of yourself, whoever you are. There are inkpots about, and it’s as dark as hell and smells of cheese. Good old Bags; fancy finding a candle in this den. Hullo, Frank!”
“Have you been fooling with the electric light?” asked Maddox.
“Yes, of course. This beastly plug didn’t work and so I dug a knife into its bowels, and something went off, and gave me an awful start.”
“Ass!” said Maddox. “You’ve put out the lights all over this passage and Adams’s study.”
“Oh, what larks!” said David. “Let’s have a procession of the unemployed, who want to work like good little saps, and can’t work in the dark. Let’s——”
“Let me just get at you,” said Maddox, as David dodged round the table. “I’ll teach you——”