In his frenzy his gloved hand made a grab at the handle of the door, which shut upon them with a loud slam.
Julia opened the office-door stealthily, and put forth an anxious head. She could hear the scuffle outside. She ran into the room in a state of nervous trepidation:
“How dreadful!” she said; ran back into the office; shut herself in.
A yell of victory from Noll told that the office broom had got home amongst the shins of the Plantagenets.
Julia opened the door a little way again and peeped nervously into the office.
She saw the door from the stairway fling open, and Gomme stroll in, adjusting his coat and smoothing down his hair with his hands; and through the open door there came the sound of fugitive anxious feet going nervously before pursuit, rushing frantically down the stairs, leaping and stumbling. Noll, with the broom poised in his hand, was leaning over the balustrade, his legs and back exquisitely thrilled, and as he flung the broom he burst into a cheer, his aim carrying away the silk hat of the fugitive exquisite below.
“Ripping!” cried Noll, and dived down the stairs after the hat.
Gomme halted, and listened.
The distant sound of feet, rapidly descending the stairs, told of the recuperative force and staying power of the Plantagenets even in defeat.
There was a loud crash of glass.