Long Otto raised a massive boot and aimed it at the animal, which, dodging with a yelp, cannoned against the second cat and had its nose scratched. Piercing shrieks cleft the air.
"I demand an explanation," roared Mr. Wilberfloss above the din.
"I think, Comrade Otto," said Psmith, "it would make things a little easier if you removed that dog."
He opened the door. The dog shot out. They could hear it being ejected from the outer office by Master Maloney. When there was silence, Psmith turned courteously to the editor.
"You were saying, Comrade Wilberfloss?"
"Who is this person Brady? With Mr. Philpotts I have been going carefully over the numbers which have been issued since my departure—"
"An intellectual treat," murmured Psmith.
"—and in each there is a picture of this young man in a costume which I will not particularise—"
"There is hardly enough of it to particularise."
"—together with a page of disgusting autobiographical matter."