I never had such a shock in my life. There was his sitting-room in a state of untidy disorder, plates and dishes among the books and writing things, and several chairs overturned, but Pyecraft—
“It's all right, o' man; shut the door,” he said, and then I discovered him.
There he was right up close to the cornice in the corner by the door, as though some one had glued him to the ceiling. His face was anxious and angry. He panted and gesticulated. “Shut the door,” he said. “If that woman gets hold of it—”
I shut the door, and went and stood away from him and stared.
“If anything gives way and you tumble down,” I said, “you'll break your neck, Pyecraft.”
“I wish I could,” he wheezed.
“A man of your age and weight getting up to kiddish gymnastics—”
“Don't,” he said, and looked agonised.
“I'll tell you,” he said, and gesticulated.
“How the deuce,” said I, “are you holding on up there?”