Lucky Jim

' Yes, one or two points have come up in the examination answers. I want to check them up before the External Examiner's meeting tomorrow. You'll be all right for that, I take it? Five o'clock in my room.'

Christine was meeting Dixon at four o'clock the next day. Even with a taxi he could only have three-quarters of an hour with her. He wanted to bundle Welch into the revolving door and whirl him round in it till lunch-time. He said: 'I'll be there.'

' Good. Well, you can see that I shan't be able to spend any time pottering about looking things up in the library.'

'Oh, quite.'

'It's good of you to do this for me, Dixon. Now, as regards what I want from the library: it's all down here.' By degrees, he drew a sheaf of papers from his breast pocket and unfolded them. 'It's all quite self-explanatory, you'll find. The reference is down in nearly every case, I think… yes. Oh, there are a few here, yes, without… just long shots, really. I don't suppose there's much of value, if anything, but you might just look through the subject indexes. If there aren't any, then you'll just have to use your own… your own… The chapter titles will probably help you there. This one, for instance, you see.

Just see if there's anything relevant. I shouldn't think there would be from the date. But you never know your luck, do you?' He scrutinized Dixon's face, seeking confirmation.

'No, you don't.'

'No, you don't. I remember being held up for weeks once over a thing I was doing, just because of one missing fact. It seems that in the autumn of 1663… no, the summer Dixon now had some of the basic facts clear. He was being asked to fill certain gaps in Welch's knowledge of the history of peasant arts and crafts in the county, and these papers, written in Welch's pointlessly neat and clear hand or typed by him with hilarious inaccuracy, would enable him, Dixon, to perform his task without all that much confusion, though not without some loss of time and integrity. Still, he daren't refuse; this sort of task might easily, to Welch, seem a more important test of ability than the merit of the Merrie England lecture. So much was obvious; but what was all this business about the library? When Welch's silence indicated the end, or possibly the abandonment, of the anecdote, Dixon asked: 'Will they have all this information here, sir? I mean, some of these pamphlets must be pretty rare. I should have thought the Record Office would have…"

Welch's expression was slowly adapting itself to incredulous rage. In a high, petulant tone he said: 'No, of course they won't have the information here, Dixon. I can't imagine any one thinking they would.

That's why I'm asking you to go down to the library for it. I know for a fact they've got ninety per cent of the stuff I want. I'd go myself, but as I took the trouble to explain, I'm tied up here. And I must have the information by tonight, because I'm giving the talk tomorrow evening after Professor Fortescue gets… goes… goes back. Now do you see?'

Dixon did: Welch had all the time been talking about the public library in the city, and, since this was clear to him, naturally hadn't thought of the confusion he might cause by talking about 'the library' within five feet of a totally different building known in the area as 'the library'. 'Oh, of course, Professor; I'm sorry,' he said, having been well schooled in giving apologies at the very times when he ought to be demanding them.

'All right, Dixon. Well, I won't hold you up now; I expect you'll want to get started if you're to finish by five. You'd better come up to my room afterwards and show me what you've got. It's very kind of you to offer to help; I appreciate it very much.'

Dixon dropped the papers between the pages of Barclay's book and turned away, only to start violently and look back as a loud thundering noise broke out behind him. Welch, his hair flapping, was straining like a packed-down rugby forward to push the revolving door in the wrong direction. Dixon stood and watched, allowing his mandrill face full play. After a time Welch, somehow divining his error, began pulling instead at the now-jammed door, changing his semblance to that of anchor in a losing tug-o'-war team. With a sudden bursting click the door yielded and Welch overbalanced backwards, hitting his head on the panel behind him. Dixon went away, beginning to whistle his Welch tune in a solemn, almost liturgical tempo. He felt that it was things like this that kept him going.

'WELL, that's really splendid, Dixon,' Welch said seven hours kter.

'You've filled in all the gaps in a most… a most… Really quite admirable.' He gloated over his notes for a moment, then suddenly added: 'What are you doing now?' with an effect of suspicion.

In point of fact, Dixon had got his hands behind his back now and was gesturing with them. 'I was just…' he stammered.

' I was wondering if you were doing anything this evening. I thought you might like to come over and have a meal with us.'