And you might try to rescue my saddle from the porter.

He's probably got it by now." Three minutes later a figure in a sweater, gray trousers, canvas shoes, Third Trinity blazer and no cap, stood, very inarticulate with breathlessness, at the door of the Senior Dean's rooms, demanding of a scandalized bed-maker to see the official in question.
"'E's in his barth, sir!" expostulated the old woman.
"Then he must come out of it!" panted Jack.
"-- That is, if 'e's out o' bed." "Then he can stop in it, if he isn't....

I tell you--" Jack gave up arguing.

He took the old lady firmly by the shoulders, and placed her in the doorway of the audience-room; then he was up the inner stairs in three strides, through the sitting-room, and was tapping at the door of the bedroom.

A faint sound of splashing ceased.
"Who's there?
Don't--" "It's me, sir--Kirkby! I'm sorry to disturb you, but--" "Don't come in!" cried an agitated voice, with a renewed sound of water, as if someone had hastily scrambled out of the bath.
Jack cautiously turned the handle and opened the door a crack.