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diff --git a/33780-h/33780-h.htm b/33780-h/33780-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d270010 --- /dev/null +++ b/33780-h/33780-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11112 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Haunted Pajamas, by FRANCIS PERRY ELLIOTT. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Haunted Pajamas, by Francis Perry Elliott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Haunted Pajamas + +Author: Francis Perry Elliott + +Illustrator: Edmund Frederick + +Release Date: September 20, 2010 [EBook #33780] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAUNTED PAJAMAS *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>THE HAUNTED PAJAMAS</h1> + +<h2>BY FRANCIS PERRY ELLIOTT</h2> + + +<h3>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br /> +EDMUND FREDERICK</h3> + +<h3>NEW YORK<br /> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +PUBLISHERS</h3> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Copyright 1911<br /> +The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>TO<br /> +MY WINIFRED</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I <span class="smcap">A Present From China</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II <span class="smcap">An Ominous Discovery</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III <span class="smcap">I Don the Pajamas</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV <span class="smcap">Jenkins Declares for the Water Wagon</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V <span class="smcap">The Girl from Radcliffe</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI <span class="smcap">Arcadian Simplicity</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII <span class="smcap">Confidences</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII <span class="smcap">Her Brother Jack</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX <span class="smcap">An Amazing Revelation</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X <span class="smcap">A Nocturnal Intrusion</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI <span class="smcap">Iron Nerve</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII <span class="smcap">I Send a Man to Jail</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII <span class="smcap">Frances</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV "<span class="smcap">You Never Saw Me in Black</span>"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV <span class="smcap">Billings' Symptoms Alarm Me</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI <span class="smcap">An Inscription and a Mystery</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII <span class="smcap">The Professor</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII <span class="smcap">I Receive a Shock</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX <span class="smcap">The Spell of the Pajamas</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX <span class="smcap">Billings Rambles</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI <span class="smcap">The Collapse of Billings</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII <span class="smcap">My Darling Is Slandered</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII <span class="smcap">A Message and a Warning</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV <span class="smcap">I Speak to Her Father</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV <span class="smcap">The Family Black Sheep</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI <span class="smcap">Flora</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII <span class="smcap">I Recover the Pajamas</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII "<span class="smcap">If I Ever Find a Man!</span>"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX "<span class="smcap">Because You—Are You</span>"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX <span class="smcap">The Judge Fixes "Foxy Grandpa"</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI <span class="smcap">The Demon Rum</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII <span class="smcap">I Touch Bottom</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII <span class="smcap">Under the Pergola</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV <span class="smcap">The Cub</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV <span class="smcap">In the Glow of the Rubies</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#TITLES_SELECTED_FROM_GROSSET_DUNLAPS_LIST">TITLES FROM GROSSET & DUNLAP</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE HAUNTED PAJAMAS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>A PRESENT FROM CHINA</h3> + + +<p>It was the first thing I saw that night as I swung into my chambers. +Fact is, for the moment, it was the only thing I saw. Somehow, its +splash of yellow there under the shaded lamp seemed to catch my eye and +hold it.</p> + +<p>I screwed my glass tight and examined the thing with interest. Nothing +remarkable; just a tiny, oblong package, bearing curious foreign +markings, its wrapper plainly addressed to me, but—</p> + +<p>"By Jove! From China!" I ejaculated.</p> + +<p>Somebody in far-off China sending me a present, with duties and charges +prepaid evidently.</p> + +<p>What the deuce was it? I shook it without getting any revelation; then I +weighed it in my hand.</p> + +<p>The thing was devilish light! In fact, so light that, allowing for +outside wrapper and box, dashed if I could see how there was anything at +all.</p> + +<p>Then I had an awful thought: Suppose, by Jove, they had forgotten to +inclose the thing—whatever it was! Jolly tiresome, that, if they had. I +felt devilish annoyed.</p> + +<p>Really, awfully provoking to do that sort of thing, you know; and I was +jolly sure now the dashed thing had been wrapped up empty. I wondered +what silly ass I knew in China who would be likely to do a thing like +that. I couldn't think of any one at all I knew in China, so I rang for +Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"Anybody I know in China, Jenkins?" I asked. And to help him out, I +added: "Fact is, some chap's sent me a package, you know."</p> + +<p>"Name on box, sir, perhaps." Said it offhand, just like that—no trouble +of thinking, dash it all—never even blinked. Just instinct, by Jove!</p> + +<p>And there it was, nicely printed in the corner with a pen:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Roland Mastermann, Government House, Hong Kong, China</span></p></blockquote> + +<p>I read it aloud—can't read anything, you know, unless I read it +aloud—and looked at Jenkins inquiringly. But he came right up to the +scratch; just seemed to get it from somewhere right out of the wall over +my head:</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir; but think it's that London gentleman—entertained you +at the Carlton when you were over the other side."</p> + +<p>Mastermann! By Jove, so it was—I began to remember him now, because I +remembered his dinner, several of them, in fact, during the three years +I had lived over there, acquiring the English accent—manner, you +know—and all that sort of thing!</p> + +<p>Mastermann—oh, yes, I had him, now! Jolly rum old boy, but entertaining +and clever—long hair, pink wart on jaw! And, by Jove, I had promised +him—promised him—what the deuce <i>was</i> it I had promised him? Let me +see: he was something or other in the foreign office; yes, I had +that—and tremendously interested in mummies and psychical investigation +and rum sort of things like that, and—</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I ejaculated, as it came to me. "And for that reason he +wanted them to send him out to China."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir," put in Jenkins, "but think you had a letter with a +Chinese postmark last week."</p> + +<p>He looked around at my little writing-desk and coughed slightly behind +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Was just a-wondering, sir, if it might not be among those you haven't +opened—there are several piles. If I might look, sir—"</p> + +<p>I nodded. Fact is, I allow Jenkins much privilege, owing to long +service. Then, you know—oh, dash it, he's so original—so refreshing +and that sort of thing—so surprising. Just as in this case, he thinks +of so many devilishly ingenious, out-of-the-way sort of things!</p> + +<p>It was Jenkins' idea that I find out what was in the box by just +<i>opening</i> the dashed thing while he looked for the letter.</p> + +<p>Clever that, eh? Well, rather!</p> + +<p>So I unsheathed my little pocket manicure knife, cut the strings and +removed the wrapper. Inside was just a little, straw-covered box with a +telescope cover and inside the box, wrapped in tissue, was a tight roll +of bright red silk.</p> + +<p>That was all—not another thing but this little silk roll. It was a wad +as thick as three fingers and perhaps twice as long, tied with a bit of +common string, ending in a loose bowknot.</p> + +<p>I gripped my glass a bit tighter in my eye and took a long shot at the +thing. But dashed if I could make anything out of it at all. You see, +the string went around it at least three or four times. Such a devilish +secretive way to fix a thing, don't you think?</p> + +<p>A queer, sweet, spicy sort of odor swept past me that reminded me of the +atmosphere at Santine's and places in the Metropolitan Art Museum. I sat +down, the better to think it over, turning the little roll in my hand +and trying to think of all the things it might be.</p> + +<p>"Looks like it might be a red silk muffler, Jenkins," I exclaimed in +disgust. By Jove, I was never so devilish disappointed in my +life—never—I'm sure of it! If I had been a girl I should have +cried—dash it, I know I should.</p> + +<p>I pinched the roll gloomily.</p> + +<p>"If it's a red silk muffler, Jenkins, catch me wearing it, that's all!" +I burst out indignantly. "Rotten bad form, if you ask <i>me</i>. I'd look +like an out-and-out bounder!"</p> + +<p>Then I had a horrible thought:</p> + +<p>"Or—or the Salvation Army, dash it!"</p> + +<p>Here Jenkins thrust a letter at me. "Perhaps this may explain it, sir," +he suggested.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, it was from Hong Kong, and from that chap, Mastermann. Out +there on special mission for his government, he said. I don't know what +it was—never did know, in fact, for I skipped down to this paragraph, +which I read aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Every puff of those rare cigars you sent me has but reminded +me that my debt to you is still unpaid."</p></blockquote> + +<p>I read thus far; then I read it again. But I could make nothing of it.</p> + +<p>"Cigars—cigars?" I exclaimed, puzzled.</p> + +<p>Then I forgot the letter as I stared at Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"And what's the matter with <i>you</i>?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>For I had caught him with his hand over his mouth, obviously trying to +suppress a chuckle. He sobered instantly, but seemed embarrassed for a +reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know!" I urged him.</p> + +<p>He started to speak, then pulled up. His breath went out in a sort of +sigh. And he just stood there looking at me, and looking kind of scared.</p> + +<p>Fact! Perfectly irreproachable service for five years; and now here, +dash it, showing emotion and that sort of thing, just like—well, like +<i>people</i>, by Jove! Gad, I don't mind saying I was devilish put out! I +screwed my glass rather severely and he made another go:</p> + +<p>"I hope, Mr. Lightnut, sir, you'll try to pardon me, sir, but I—Well, +indeed, sir, the mistake wasn't mine; it was the dealer's fault, you +know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>I stared, polished my glass and nodded. I even chirped up a smile, but I +didn't utter a word. Dash it, what <i>was</i> there to say? But you mustn't +let <i>them</i> know that, you know. So I just waited, and he squirmed a +little and went on:</p> + +<p>"It was too late after he told me about the mistake; and I was—well, I +was afraid to mention it to you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Mistake! What mistake?"</p> + +<p>He gulped; dashed if I didn't think he was going to choke.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm sure, sir, I wouldn't have had such a thing happen for—"</p> + + +<p>I could stand it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say! I haven't any idea what you're talking about!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins cleared his throat with an effort, his eyes rolling at me +apologetically. When he spoke there was a tremble in his utterance, and +it was rather husky:</p> + +<p>"Why, sir," he began in a low tone, "you told me to have your dealer +ship this gentleman, this Mr. Mastermann, a dozen boxes of Paloma +perfectos—your favorite brand, you know, sir—ninety dollars the +hundred."</p> + +<p>He paused, his fingers resting tremblingly on the edge of the table.</p> + +<p>"I dare say," I yawned presently. "Well, what of it?" I was getting +impatient. By Jove, he was making me downright nervous, don't you know! +Besides, I was so devilish anxious to get on with Mastermann's letter. I +wanted to find out, if possible, what it was the fellow had sent me.</p> + +<p>Jenkins breathed hard and leaned toward me. Then he seemed to flunk +again and dropped back. Dashed if I didn't think I heard him groan! But +I stared at him through my glass, and he swallowed hard and went on:</p> + +<p>"An error, sir, of the shipping clerk. He—"</p> + +<p>With a murmured apology, Jenkins paused to wipe his forehead. I saw that +the perspiration had gathered in great drops. Then he seemed to gather +himself for a resolute effort, his eyes fixing themselves upon me with +the most extraordinary expression—kind of half-frightened, +half-desperate glare—that sort of thing, don't you know. I began to +feel devilish uncomfortable and edged away.</p> + +<p>And he made another plunge: "They sent him—"</p> + +<p>And, dash me if he didn't stick again! It just looked like he couldn't +get past. But I encouraged him—just like you have to do a horse, you +know—and this time he got over:</p> + +<p>"They sent him a dozen boxes of 'Hickey's Pride,' sir, instead!"</p> + +<p>He spoke in a low, choking voice and looked me full in the eye—the kind +of look you get when a chap's boxing with you, you know—that sort of +thing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>AN OMINOUS DISCOVERY</h3> + + +<p>I was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"'Hickey's Pride?'" I repeated thoughtfully. "I don't seem to recall +that one. Do I smoke it often?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins seemed to gasp.</p> + +<p>"You? Certainly <i>not</i>, sir! <i>Never!</i>"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, he turned pale! Anyhow, he looked devilish queer as he put +his hands down on the table and bent to whisper:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut, sir—" And the way he dropped his voice and turned his +head to peer around into the corners was just creepy! That's what, +creepy! This, with the glow from the green lampshade on his pale face as +he leaned across the table—oh, it was something ghastly—awful, you +know! It got on my nerves, and I could feel the hair slowly rising on +each side of my part. He bent close, whispering behind his hand, and I +knew he had been eating radishes for dinner:</p> + +<p>"It's what's known in the trade, sir, as a 'twofer.'"</p> + +<p>"A 'twofer!'" I repeated, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Two for five, sir." Jenkins spoke faintly. "I'm sure I'm ashamed to +mention to a perfect gen—"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, <i>I</i> know!" I lifted my finger suddenly. "I know now the kind +you mean—big, fat, greasy-looking ones—the sort Vanderdecker and +Colonel Boylston smoke over at the club." I shook my head. "Too jolly +thick and heavy for me. So they're two for a 'V'—eh? Oh, I +<i>see</i>—'twofers!' By Jove!"</p> + +<p>A brand new one, this—a ripper! I made up my mind to spring it on the +fellows first chance—that is, if I could remember the jolly thing. I +just looked at Jenkins' solemn face and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, Jenkins—hang the expense, you know!" I remonstrated in some +disgust. For this London chap had given me no end of a good time, you +know; and it's such devilish bad form—rotten, I say—haggling about +expense when you want to make a come-back and do the handsome. I was +jolly glad the mistake had happened.</p> + +<p>Just here I remembered the letter and went at it again, for I was keen +to find out, if possible, if it <i>was</i> a muffler under the string. So I +fixed my glass and read on:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Realizing what these cigars are, I have given them, from time +to time, to friends of mine—and others. Really, I don't think +I ever had such unselfish, unalloyed pleasure from anything in +my life. Gave one to a bus driver out Earl's Court way—chap +who had never been known to speak to man, woman or child in +years, and, after he lighted it—well, my word! He opened up +and grew so bally loquacious I had to get off."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"By Jove!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>I felt real pleased—that kind of fizzy glow—sort of +bubbling-champagney-feeling you get, you know, whenever a friend does +some clever, unexpected thing—like repaying a loan, for instance. Know +about that, because I had it happen to me once. Fact!</p> + +<p>"See that, Jenkins?" I said with a little triumph.</p> + +<p>I wanted to reassure him, for I could see with half an eye that the poor +fellow was devilish plucked about the expense. And Jenkins certainly +looked regularly bowled over.</p> + +<p>I read on:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Had been trying to get Jorgins, my chief, to send me out here +again to China, but he was ever finding some cold, beastly +evasion. But when your package came to the office, the first +thing I did after I had tried the cigars was to hand the old +iceberg a box with my compliments.</p> + +<p>"Five minutes after, he came back, completely thawed out. Fact +is, never saw him so warm toward any one. Asked me if the other +boxes were to be given away outside. Said no; that his was the +only box I could spare; was going to keep 'em all there at the +office and smoke 'em myself. Never saw a man so moved—so +worked up over a little thing. Next day he sent me out here to +China."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Coals of fire!" I ejaculated admiringly. "Regular out-and-out coals of +fire, by Jove!"</p> + +<blockquote><p>"And so I have been looking about since I have been out here, +trying to find something as rare, unique and full of surprises +for your friends as your cigars have been for mine. I have +found it."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"And devilish handsome of him, Jenkins, eh?" I commented gratefully; and +I looked with renewed interest at the little roll in my hand. Jove, how +I wished, though, he would come to the point and say what it was!</p> + +<blockquote><p>"You know what a curiously upside-down people the Chinese are. +Example, they begin dinner with desert and end with soup; they +drink hot, acid beverages in summer instead of iced ones; they +write from right to left, vertically, while we write from left +to right, horizontally; they mourn in white instead of black, +and they are awfully honest and pay their debts.</p> + +<p>"But there is one other point of difference still queerer: they +wear pajamas all day, while we wear them only at night."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here I yawned. Always hate that heavy, historical, instructive stuff, +you know. If you have to hear it, gives you headache, unless you can +slip off to sleep first.</p> + +<p>So I reached the letter up to Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"Just run over the rest of it yourself, and see if he says anything +about his present," I said, settling comfortably. Clever idea of mine, +don't you think?</p> + +<p>And I was just dropping my head to have a snug little nap—just a little +forty, you know—when, dash me, if I didn't have another idea! Awfully +annoying, time like that.</p> + +<p>Mind is so devilish alert, dash it! Always doing things like that; can't +seem to get over it, you know. And this ripping idea that bobbed up now +and got me all roused up was nothing more or less than to untie the +string myself and see what the thing was. See?</p> + +<p>"I believe, sir," said Jenkins, looking up, "the gentleman has sent +you—h'm—has sent you—"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, a suit of pajamas!" I exclaimed, holding them up.</p> + +<p>It was neck and neck, but I beat Jenkins to it, after all!</p> + +<p>"Gentleman says, sir," continued Jenkins, studying the letter, "that his +present of a pair of pajamas may seem surprising, but you won't know how +surprising until you have worn them."</p> + +<p>"Jolly likely," I admitted, feeling the silk. By Jove, it was the +finest, yet thinnest stuff I ever saw, soft as rose leaves and as filmy +light as a spider's web. Not bad, that, for a comparison, eh? Caught the +idea from a vase of full-blown roses that were beginning to shed their +petals there on the table. And on one of the blossoms was a little brown +spider. Catch the idea? Suggested spider's web, you know.</p> + +<p>"They're rather red, sir," Jenkins commented dubiously.</p> + +<p>Red? Well, I should say! My! How jolly red they were! We spread them +under the light, and the red seemed to flow all over the table and fall +from the edge. Why, they were as red as—</p> + +<p>I tried to think of something they were as red as, but somehow I +couldn't fetch the idea. I thought of red ink and blood and fireworks, +but they didn't seem to be up to them at all. And a big, velvety petal +that dropped from one of the crimson roses just seemed brown beside +them.</p> + +<p>And yet, dash it, I knew they reminded me of something, you know; I knew +they <i>must</i>.</p> + +<p>"They remind me—" I began, and had to pause—idea balked, you know. +"They remind me of—of—Jenkins, what do they remind me of?"</p> + +<p>"Of <i>him</i>, sir," replied Jenkins promptly.</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Old Memphis Tuffles, sir," explained Jenkins darkly. "I saw him once in +a opera, and he was that red."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said thoughtfully, and fell to watching the little spider. +It was dropping a life-line or something down to the pajamas.</p> + +<p>"But they say he ain't always red," Jenkins continued mysteriously. "A +lady as is in the palmistry and card-reading line in Forty-second Street +told me he turned black whenever he got down to business. Do you suppose +that's where they get the idea of what they call black magic, sir?"</p> + +<p>I answered absently, for I was wondering whether the little spider was +curious about the jolly red color there below him. And just then +Jenkins' hand went out and swept at the little thread. The spider +dropped and shot into a fold of the pajamas.</p> + +<p>"I say! Look out!" I exclaimed as Jenkins made another clutch. "Don't +mash the beast on the silk; you'll ruin it—the silk, I mean!"</p> + +<p>"There it goes, sir!" said Jenkins eagerly. "Over by your hand."</p> + +<p>"No; by Jove; he's gone into a leg of the pajamas! Here, shake him +out—gently now!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins lifted the garment gingerly and lightly shook it. But nothing +came forth.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you look in the leg," I said, "and see if you can see it?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins peered down one of the silken tubes and forthwith dropped it +with a yell. He jumped back.</p> + +<p>"Look out, sir," he cried excitedly; "don't touch 'em! There's a +tarantula in there big as a sand crab, and it's alive."</p> + +<p>"A tarantula? Nonsense! We don't have tarantulas in New York," I +protested.</p> + +<p>Jenkins gestured violently. "One's there, sir, anyhow! I saw one once on +a bunch of bananas down in South Street. If they jump on you and bite, +you might as well just walk around to the undertaker. A dago told me +so."</p> + +<p>I backed nervously from the crumpled crimson pile on the floor.</p> + +<p><i>Crimson?</i></p> + +<p>Of course, I knew it was crimson; it must be the shadow of the table +there that made the things so dark—<i>black</i>, in fact. But my mind was on +the tarantula; and I was thinking that it must have been wrapped with +the pajamas. Yet I could not understand how this could be, considering +how tightly the things had been rolled.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, it was there; and Jenkins pointed excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Look, sir! You can see it moving under the silk!"</p> + +<p>By Jove, so you could! And the thing seemed nearly as big as a rat. It +was making for the end of the leg. I climbed upon a chair.</p> + +<p>"Get a club," I exclaimed, "and smash the thing as it comes out!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins rushed out and returned with a brassie.</p> + +<p>"Careful now," I warned from the chair. "Don't go and hit the dashed +thing before it gets out, and make a devil of a mess on the silk! There +it is—it's out! No, no—not yet! Wait, until it gets its whole body +out! There now; he's drawing out his last beastly leg. Now—<i>now</i> let +drive!"</p> + +<p>And he did, and seemed to hit the thing squarely.</p> + +<p>I knelt on the chair and craned over, while Jenkins still held the stick +tightly at the point where the thing had struck.</p> + +<p>"Get him?" I queried. "Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, sir," said Jenkins in an odd voice. "It ain't here."</p> + +<p>"Why, dash it, I saw you strike the beast, right where you're holding +that club."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut, sir"—Jenkins spoke a little huskily and glanced around +at me queerly—"will you look under the end of this stick and see if you +see what I see?"</p> + +<p>I climbed down and examined cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Why, by Jove, it's the little spider!" I exclaimed, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Exactly, sir; what's left." Jenkins took a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir—it's a great relief," he sighed.</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, sir, I'm glad I ain't the only one who thought he saw that +other. It's <i>some</i> comfort."</p> + +<p>Jenkins spoke gloomily.</p> + +<p>"<i>Thought</i> you saw?" I repeated.</p> + +<p>But Jenkins only shook his head as he gathered up the remains of the +spider and consigned them to a cuspidor.</p> + +<p>"You mean—say, what the devil <i>do</i> you mean?" I asked sharply.</p> + +<p>Jenkins straightened with air respectful but solemn.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut, sir," he began gravely, "there's a party lectures on the +street corner every night at nine on the fearful consequences of the +drink habit, and passes around blank pledges to be signed. I'm going to +get one first chance; and if you will accept it, sir—meaning no +offense—I would be proud to get you one, too."</p> + +<p>I stared at him aghast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, now," I murmured faintly, "you don't think it was that, do +you?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins' face was eloquent enough.</p> + +<p>"I'm through, sir," he said sadly. "When it comes to seeing things like +that—" He lifted his eyes. "No more for me, sir; my belief is, it's a +warning—yes, sir, that's what, a warning."</p> + +<p>I collapsed into a chair.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I gasped uneasily.</p> + +<p>I was awfully put out—annoyed, you know. It was the first time anything +of the kind had ever happened to me. If I started in with tarantulas, +what would I be seeing next?</p> + +<p>Jenkins gulped nervously. "Why, sir," he whispered, leaning toward me, +"these pajamas—you see for yourself how red they are—they actually +seemed to lose color when that bug was in 'em."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pshaw!" I said contemptuously. "I saw that, too." And I explained +to him about the shadow of the table. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"But that only makes it worse, sir," he commented dubiously. "It shows +the 'mental condition,' as they say. You know, we were talking about the +black art—remember, sir?"</p> + +<p>I did remember; and also I remembered then we saw the spider. I recalled +that spiders and tarantulas belonged to the same family. Of course +Jenkins' suspicions hit the nail—it must be that—there was no getting +around it—but still—</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Jenkins!" I said, trying to go a feeble smile. "I never felt +so fit for a corking stiff highball in my life—never!"</p> + +<p>I took a screw on my glass and studied him curiously.</p> + +<p>"And I say, you know—better take one yourself!" I added.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>I DON THE PAJAMAS</h3> + + +<p>"By Jove, Jenkins, they fit like a dream!"</p> + +<p>I twisted before the glass and surveyed the pajamas with much +satisfaction. They looked jolly right from every point. Moreover, with +all their easy looseness, there was not an inch too much. They had a +comfortable, personal feel.</p> + +<p>"Lucky thing they weren't made originally for some whale like Jack +Billings—eh, Jenkins?" I commented musingly.</p> + +<p>Behind his hand Jenkins indulged in what is vulgarly known as a snicker.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Billings, sir, he couldn't get one shoulder in 'em, much less +a—h'm—leg," he chuckled. "They'd be in ribbons, sir!"</p> + +<p>I yawned sleepily, and Jenkins instantly sobered to attention. He held +his finger over the light switch as I punched a pillow and rolled over +on the mattress.</p> + +<p>"All right," I said; "push the jolly thing out." And with a click +darkness fell about me.</p> + +<p>"Good night, sir," came Jenkins' voice softly.</p> + +<p>"Night," I murmured faintly, and I was off.</p> + +<p>Sometime, hours later, I awoke, and with a devilish yearning for a +smoke. It often takes me that way in the night.</p> + +<p>I climbed out in the blackness and found my way into the other room. I +remembered exactly where I had dropped my cigarette case when we were +fooling with the pajamas by the table, and I found it without +difficulty.</p> + +<p>In the act of stooping for it, my hand clutched the edge of the table +and I felt a spot yield under the pressure of my thumb. It was the +button controlling the bell to Jenkins' room.</p> + +<p>"Lucky thing he sleeps like a jolly porpoise," I reflected.</p> + +<p>I pushed a wicker arm-chair into the moonlight and breeze by a window, +and pulling a flame to a cigarette, leaned back, feeling jolly comfy. +For the breeze was ripping and delicious, and the delicate silk of the +pajamas flowed in little wavelets all the way from my heels to my neck.</p> + +<p>And, thinking of the pajamas, I tried to fix my mind on it that I must +tell Jenkins to have me write that chap, Mastermann, and send him +another lot of those devilish good cigars he liked. I tried to recall +what Jenkins had said was the name of the brand—something deuced +clever, I remembered that much.</p> + +<p>I was just about dropping off, when I heard some one hurrying along the +private hall leading from the back. Jenkins himself popped into the +room.</p> + +<p>"Did you ring, sir?" he inquired, and advanced quickly.</p> + +<p>And then, before I could think about it to reply, he halted suddenly, +almost pitching forward. Then, with a kind of wheezy howl, he sprang to +the wall. Next instant, I was blinking under the dazzling electrolier.</p> + +<p>"Here, I say! Shut off that light!" I remonstrated, half blinded.</p> + +<p>I heard a swift rush across the rugs, and the next thing I knew I was +roughly jerked from out my chair; strong fingers clutched my throat, and +I found myself glaring into a frightened but resolute face.</p> + +<p>"Jen-Jenkins!" I tried to gasp, but only a gurgle came.</p> + +<p>I was so taken unawares, I knew it must be some dashed dream. Perhaps +another minute, and I would wake up. But he gripped me tighter and shook +me like a rag.</p> + +<p>"Say, who are you?" he hissed. "How did you get in here?"</p> + +<p>And then, of course, I knew that he was crazy. Whether he was crazy in a +dream or crazy with me awake, I couldn't guess. It made very little +difference, anyhow, for I knew that in another minute I should be either +dream dead or real dead; and dash me if I could see any odds worth +tossing for in either, you know.</p> + +<p>But I don't belong to the athletic club quite for nothing, and have +managed to pick up a few tricks, you know. So with the decision to chuck +the dream theory, I shot my leg forward with a mix-up and twist that +made Jenkins loosen his clutch and stagger backward.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you?" I gasped, advancing toward him. "Are you +trying to murder me?" But I was so hoarse, the only word that came out +plainly was "murder."</p> + +<p>Jenkins uttered a howl. "Help, Mr. Lightnut! Murder!"</p> + +<p>"You old fool!" I cried, exasperated. "Come here!"</p> + +<p>He was coming. He seized a light chair and swung it behind his head. +Then he rushed me with a shout.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Lightnut!"</p> + +<p>"Gone clear off his nut!" was my thought. As he swung the chair, I +ducked low, and man and chair went crashing to the floor. But he was up +again in a jiffy and dancing at me.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut, sir, why don't you help me?"</p> + +<p>"Help you—you jolly idiot?" I muttered indignantly. Then my voice +raised: "I've a mind to kill you!"</p> + +<p>With a yell, he made a kangaroo jump and swung at me again.</p> + +<p>"He says he's going to kill me, Mr. Lightnut!" he panted as I dodged +again. "Help me—wake up, sir!"</p> + +<p>Wake up? Wake up, indeed, when I had never been so devilish wide awake +in all my life! I was <i>sure</i> now about that. I moved toward him +cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Stop your row!" I cried angrily; "you'll have somebody in. Think I want +the police up here?"</p> + +<p>With a glare at me, Jenkins darted past me to the bedroom I had just +left. Its light switch clicked, and then back through the brightened +doorway he sprang and dashed for a wall cabinet at the side. He began +tugging at its little drawer. And suddenly I remembered the revolver +there, an old forty-five from a friend in Denver—and loaded!</p> + +<p>My spring to intercept him was quick, but not quick enough. Half-way to +him I pulled up under the compelling argument of the long blue barrel +pointed at my head.</p> + +<p>"Here! Look out, you fool—it's loaded!" I warned, backing away to the +window.</p> + +<p>Jenkins advanced. "What have you done with him?" he panted hoarsely. +"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Where's who?" I asked savagely, for I was getting devilish tired of it +all. But for the publicity, I should have yelled from the window.</p> + +<p>"Where's Mr. Lightnut?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's all right." I decided to adopt that soothing tone that I had +read somewhere was the proper caper with lunatics.</p> + +<p>"Where?" Jenkins insisted, pushing nearer.</p> + +<p>And dashed if I knew what to answer; for, if I made a mistake, it might +be serious, by Jove! Perhaps some jocular reply would be safest—might +divert his attention, you know.</p> + +<p>The open window gave me an idea.</p> + +<p>"Why, do you know," I said pleasantly, "I just chucked him down into the +street."</p> + +<p>It sounded like a cannon cracker, that gun! The shower of splintered +glass from the picture between the windows barely missed me. But I never +waited a second—for this last devilish straw was too much, don't you +know, and something had to be done. I leaped for the weapon as it struck +the hardwood floor between us, jerked from Jenkins' hand by the +unfamiliar upward kick. Another instant and I was poking the muzzle into +his side.</p> + +<p>"I've just had enough of this, you fool!" I cried impatiently. "Here, +take a good look at me!" I pushed my face closer. "Look at me, I tell +you!"</p> + +<p>By Jove, he shuddered! His eyes, wide distended with terror, rolled to +the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"I can't," he whispered; "I just can't—anything but that! Only, +please—please don't kill me, too."</p> + +<p>"Kill you?" I said, frowning sternly as he gave a furtive glance. "I +certainly will, if you don't take a good look at me!"</p> + +<p>He gave a sort of despairing sigh and closed his eyes so tightly the +lashes disappeared. "All right, then," he said sullenly; "you may kill +me!"</p> + +<p>The way with these lunatics, I thought. Next thing, he would be begging +and insisting that I kill him. I motioned to the door of my guest-room +and gave him a push.</p> + +<p>"In there," I said, "and keep perfectly quiet."</p> + +<p>And as he shot inside, I closed the door and locked it. I just had to +take the chance of his hurting himself against the walls and furniture; +I didn't believe he was so crazy he would undertake the six-story leap +to the ground. Listening, I heard something like a sob. Then I caught my +name.</p> + +<p>"Poor Mr. Lightnut," came chokingly; "the kindest, gentlest master!" And +then more sobs and gulps.</p> + +<p>By Jove, under his insane delusion, the poor beggar was grieving for me; +not thinking of himself at all, you know. I felt my eyes grow a bit +moist, somehow, and all at once my heart went heavy. Thought how long +poor old Jenkins had been with me—ever since I was out of college, you +know—five years—and remembered how devilish faithful and attached he +had always been. Poor old Jenks! It was awful his going off this way! I +recalled how he had taken to seeing things, earlier in the evening, and +had made me see them, too, dash it! One thing I determined: whatever had +to be done with him, he should have the finest of attention.</p> + +<p>I knew that I ought to telephone to somebody or something, but dashed if +I had any idea who or where. Oddly enough, not a soul seemed to have +been roused by the pistol shot, but I saw by the little clock that it +was close to three—the hour in a bachelor apartment house when +everybody is asleep, if they're going to sleep at all.</p> + +<p>I decided that the best thing to do first was to get into some clothes. +And with this thought I was turning away, when it occurred to me to make +an effort to see if poor Jenkins seemed more rational now or had gone to +sleep.</p> + +<p>I tapped upon the door. "Are you asleep?" I asked softly.</p> + +<p>A howl of positive terror came back.</p> + +<p>"I'm a-keeping quiet," he cried, "but don't let me hear your voice +again, or I'll jump right out of the window."</p> + +<p>I shook my head sadly and tiptoed into my room, where I slipped +hurriedly out of the pajamas and into some clothes; then back I went to +the telephone. It was on my little writing-desk close to the door +confining Jenkins.</p> + +<p>I lifted the receiver with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Hello, central," I began, responding to the operator. "I say, will you +give me 'information?'"</p> + +<p>A loud shout suddenly sounded from behind the closed door, and there +came a frantic double-pounding of fists.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut—Mr. Lightnut!" screamed Jenkins. "Oh, Mr. Lightnut, +you're back—you're alive—I can hear your voice! This is Jenkins, Mr. +Lightnut; yes, sir, Jenkins. They've got me locked in!"</p> + +<p>I clapped the receiver on the hook and sprang to the door, unlocking +it. Jenkins almost tumbled into my arms. By Jove, for a second I hung in +the wind, he acted so crazy still; at least, it seemed so just at first. +The fellow threw his arm about my neck and laughed—laughed and cried, +dash it—and just wringing my hands and carrying on—Oh, awful! And even +when I got him into a chair, he just sat there laughing and crying like +a jolly old silly, patting my hand, you know, and wiping his eyes, what +time they were not devouring me.</p> + +<p>"Has he gone, sir?" he gasped huskily. "Did he jump from the window?" +But I waved all questions aside.</p> + +<p>"After you've had some sleep," I insisted. "Then I'll tell you the whole +jolly story." And I just got him to his room myself, despite his +distress and protests over my attention.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir, and good night," he said as I left him. And he murmured +placidly, "I guess we're all right now."</p> + +<p>But I was not so sure as to <i>him</i>, when I viewed the broken chair and +scattered fragments of glass—ominous reminders of the scene through +which I had passed. And so, though I threw the pistol on top of a +bookcase, I spent the rest of the night upon the soft cushions of my big +divan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>JENKINS DECLARES FOR THE WATER WAGON</h3> + + +<p>"But this savage-looking Chinaman that you saw, Jenkins—how was he +dressed?" I adopted a careless tone of inquiry.</p> + +<p>It was high noon, and I was toying with an after luncheon, or rather +after breakfast, cigar.</p> + +<p>Jenkins' head shook dubiously. "I just remember something blackish. My, +sir, I didn't have time to notice nothing like clothes!"</p> + +<p>His tone conveyed aggrieved protest. He went on:</p> + +<p>"Just as I'm telling you, sir, I saw some one sitting there by the +window and walked toward him, thinking it was you. Then, all of a +sudden, I see his awful face a scowling at me there in the moonlight."</p> + +<p>"And he was smoking, you say?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins sniffed indignantly. "Free and easy as a lord, sir! He held a +long stick to his ugly mouth, and smoke was curling out of a little bowl +near the end."</p> + +<p>"Oh, opium pipe, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Likely, sir," agreed Jenkins; "but I never saw one."</p> + +<p>By Jove, I had my own opinion about that! I knew he <i>must</i> have seen one +before; but I just went on questioning, to gain time, you know, and +wondering all the while how I should ever be able to break the truth to +the poor fellow.</p> + +<p>"Tell me again what he was like," I said. "How did you know he was a +Chinaman?"</p> + +<p>"Why, by his long black pigtail, sir, and his onery color. But I never +saw no Chinaman as ugly as this one—no sir. Oh, he was just too awful +horrid to look at, sir. His forehead sloped away back, or maybe the +front part of his head being all shaved made it look that way. And the +skin about his eyes was painted white with red streaks shooting around +like rays of light."</p> + +<p>"No beard or mustache, I suppose?" I suggested, feeling my own +smooth-shaven face. Jenkins' reply was a surprise:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; there were long black kind of rat tails that dropped down +from the sides of his mouth. And then his neck—ugh—all thick with +woolly hair."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was, eh?" I said drily, thinking of the long red stripe that my +collar concealed. "I suppose you felt this, eh, when you jumped at his +throat?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins rubbed his chin with a puzzled air.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's uncommon queer, sir; but now that you remind me, I do +remember that his neck felt perfectly smooth—and it wasn't so big, +either. Why, I should say it felt just about like yours would, sir."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>I eyed him ruefully.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, I don't doubt it a minute!" I commented with some disgust. +"See here, Jenkins, I suppose you've been to the Chinese theater down in +Doyers Street, eh?"</p> + +<p>For I had been down there with slumming parties, and I remembered the +hideous sorcerers, fierce warriors and kings the Chinks represent in +their interminable plays. And the facial make-up described by Jenkins +tallied in a way with some I recalled from these ancient, semi-mythical +plays.</p> + +<p>But at my question, Jenkins' lip curled a little; dash me, but he looked +almost insulted.</p> + +<p>"I should say not, sir," he said with a sniff; "you don't catch me going +down in them parts!" He added quickly: "Meaning no offense, sir."</p> + +<p>"Sure?" I questioned sharply.</p> + +<p>"Never, sir!" Jenkins' earnestness was unmistakable. But of course I +knew the poor fellow had forgotten all about it.</p> + +<p>"One of the jolly rum things that goes along with his affliction," I +reflected sadly. "A month from now the poor beggar will be swearing he +never saw me in his life." And how the devil was I going to break the +truth to him? I sighed perplexedly. "Well, go on with your yarn," I said +irresolutely. "You were telling, when I interrupted, about rushing into +my bedroom."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he resumed with animation. "And when I didn't find you, I +was just frantic, for I didn't know you had gone out, sir—never +thought of that; I went for the ugly monster with the big pistol there +in the cabinet—which, by the way, sir, the low down villain stole when +he locked me up and lit out."</p> + +<p>I had an inspiration.</p> + +<p>"I see," I broke in carelessly; "and then you demanded to know where I +was—that it? Then you backed him to that window, and he told you he had +chucked me into the street—whereupon you tried to blow off his head and +knocked the jolly daylights out of the lady with the fencing foil."</p> + +<p>Jenkins, his mouth agape, viewed me with distended eyes.</p> + +<p>"I didn't tell you that, sir," he faltered. "How—"</p> + +<p>"And when you dropped the weapon," I went on, "this chap collared it, +jabbed the beastly thing into you, and told you to look at him. And by +Jove you wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins groaned slightly. The apologetic cough with which he strove to +mantle the sound was dry and spiritless.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it seemed easier to die, sir," he murmured—"what with him +grinning like a fiend and his long teeth a-sticking out over his +lip—ugh!" Then he added wonderingly: "But what gets me is how you +should know, sir."</p> + +<p>I looked at him gravely.</p> + +<p>"Jenkins," I said gently, "I know, because it so happens I was here all +the time."</p> + +<p>His eyes bulged incredulously.</p> + +<p>"You, sir? You mean in this room?"</p> + +<p>I nodded slowly. "I mean right in this room—I was a witness of the +whole thing."</p> + +<p>Jenkins just gulped. I motioned to a chair.</p> + + +<p>"You may sit down, Jenkins, my poor fellow," I said compassionately. I +poured out some whisky and gave it to him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I want you to drink that," I insisted as he took it +hesitatingly. "You will need it. Drink every drop of it."</p> + +<p>And I watched him do it. For somehow the poor devil seemed to be growing +paler every minute, and I was afraid the shock of what I was going to +say would send him into a swoon.</p> + +<p>Jenkins replaced the empty glass with a positively trembling hand. By +Jove, his face turned a kind of asparagus yellow.</p> + +<p>It alarmed me a little, for I felt apprehensive that perhaps it was time +for him to have another spell, you know. Of course, I knew that the +devilishly adroit, tactful way I was breaking it to him wouldn't disturb +the peace of a baby. Some people would have gone about the thing in some +deuced abrupt way, don't you know, and alarmed him. I didn't want to do +that—in fact, I took pains to tell him so at the start.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to frighten you, my poor fellow," I said, leaning toward +him and speaking in a low, earnest voice—just that way, you know—no +excitement. "You mustn't let anything I say frighten you badly about +yourself."</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Thank you, sir." But I could hardly hear him.</p> + +<p>I waited a moment, eying him steadily—just doing it all in that calm +way, you know—and then:</p> + +<p>"You must brace yourself for a great shock, my poor Jenkins," I said +soothingly. And then I thought I had best hurry on, for I could tell by +the way his eyes rolled and the blue color of his lips that probably I +was just in time to head off another attack. And then I told him all.</p> + +<p>"And here," I concluded, "are the marks of your fingers under my collar, +and the pistol is on top of the bookcase."</p> + +<p>Jenkins just sat there, kind of huddled up, you know, and his face as +white as the what-you-call-it snow. Didn't seem able to say a word. By +Jove, it was too much for me; my heart just went out to him.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Jenkins," I said kindly, and I patted his knee. +"Doesn't make a jolly bit of difference to me, personally. Just told you +because I thought you ought to know. You just go right along and +continue your duties, so far as I am concerned."</p> + +<p>Jenkins' hand slipped along his knee and ventured to touch mine timidly. +He rose heavily.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut, sir," he said huskily, "if you're not going to need me +very much, could I be excused for a while to-night?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, yes, Jenkins! Go out and enjoy the evening; it will do you +good. Stay as long as you like, dash it! You know I dine to-night at the +club. Go to a roof garden and get some fresh air."</p> + +<p>A toss of the head broke Jenkins' calm; his fist struck his palm.</p> + +<p>"It ain't that, sir," he exclaimed. "I don't want no fresh air, but I do +want fresh resolution and a fresh start. I'm going to find <i>him</i>."</p> + +<p>"Him!" I was startled. Dash me, I half thought he meant the Chinaman.</p> + +<p>"Him, sir; that temperance lecturer, I mean. I'm going to get out a +paper against that old enemy there!" And he shook his fist at the whisky +decanter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE GIRL FROM RADCLIFFE</h3> + + +<p>"Long distance call from Mr. Billings, sir," said Jenkins, lifting the +receiver.</p> + +<p>By Jove, he had just caught me as I was about to leave.</p> + +<p>"Hello! That you, Lightnut?" came his voice. "Say, old chap, you +remember you said you wouldn't mind putting up the kid overnight on the +way home from college. Remember? Wants to rest over and come up the +river on the day line."</p> + +<p>Yes, I remembered, and said so.</p> + +<p>"All right, then; it's to-night. Be there about nine from Boston. Don't +go to any trouble, now, nor alter any plans. The kid will probably be +dead tired and off to bed before you get home from your dinner."</p> + +<p>"That's all right, old chap; Jenkins will look after the young one."</p> + +<p>I heard Billings chuckle—I remembered that chuckle afterward.</p> + +<p>"Not much of the young one there. Eighteen, you know. Never off to +school, though, until last year—and by George, it was time! Between my +mother and my sister the kid was being absolutely ruined—petted, +mollycoddled, and was getting soft and silly—oh, something to make you +sick. Well, so much obliged, Dicky. You know what these hotels are. +Good-by."</p> + +<p>I explained to Jenkins. "All right, sir," he said. "I won't go out until +after nine. It'll be time enough."</p> + +<p>And so I went off. I returned early, about ten, and sat reading. Jenkins +was still away, and the door of my guest room was open.</p> + +<p>"Good evening!"</p> + +<p>The voice behind me was soft, musical, delicious.</p> + +<p>I whirled about, and there, within the door, leaning against the frame, +was the most beautiful creature I ever saw in all my life.</p> + +<p>A girl! But oh, by Jove, <i>such</i> a girl! A lovely, rosy blonde, dash it! +Golden-haired angel—long, droopy kind of lashes, don't you know—eyes +like dreamy sapphire seas—oh, that sort of thing—a peach!</p> + +<p>The leap that brought me to my feet sent my chair thudding backward.</p> + +<p>"Why—er—good evening," I managed to stammer. Just managed, you know, +for, give you my word, I never was so bowled over in my life—never! And +on the instant I guessed what it meant. The "kid" that Billings referred +to wasn't a kid brother at all, but was a kid sister—girl, by Jove!</p> + +<p>"Are you busy?" I saw the flash of her perfect little teeth as her lips +parted in a smile. "If not, may I talk to you a while?"</p> + +<p>I mumbled something designed to be pleasant—dash me if I know what—and +managed to summon sense enough to lift toward her a wicker arm-chair. +Then I dashed into my bedroom to chuck the smoking-jacket and get into a +coat. And all the while I was thinking harder than I ever had thought it +possible.</p> + +<p>Just the thing to have expected of an ass like Billings—a fellow with +no sense of the proprieties! His kind of mind had never got any further +than the fact that I had a guest-room and a quiet apartment. The further +fact that it was in a bachelor apartment house and I a bachelor—and not +yet out of my twenties, dash it—would never have presented itself to a +chump like Billings as having any bearing on the matter.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I must get right over to the club and leave her in +possession—it's the only thing left to do." This was my thought as I +slipped into my coat and gave my hair a touch—just a touch, don't you +know. The thing to do was to carry it off as naturally as possible for a +few minutes, and then slip away. Probably she hadn't counted upon my +being in town at all—had taken it for granted it was some sort of +family apartment—with housekeeper, servant maids, all that sort of +thing.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," I thought, as I kicked off my half-shoes and jerked on the +first things at hand. "Thing to do now is to keep that child's mind +from being distressed. She'll have a good sleep and get off early in the +morning on the Albany boat. Don't suppose she'd understand, +anyhow—sweet, innocent, unsophisticated thing like that. What a fool +Billings is!"</p> + +<p>And I jammed in savagely the turquoise matrix pin with which I was +replacing the pearl, because it went better with my tie.</p> + +<p>"Now, just a few minutes of conversation to put her at her ease," I +reflected, "and then I'm off. I'll get the janitor's wife to come up and +stay near her."</p> + +<p>And I dashed back, murmuring some jolly rubbish of apology. And then I +just brought up speechless—almost fell over backward. For as she stood +there under the light, I saw that what I had taken for a dress of black +silk was not a dress at all, but a suit of pajamas—black, filmy +pajamas, whose loose elegance concealed but could not wholly deny the +goddess-like figure within.</p> + +<p>"I'd have known you anywhere, Mr. Lightnut." And then I found that we +were shaking hands, my fingers crushed in a grasp I never could have +thought possible from that tiny hand. "From hearing Jack talk, your name +is a sort of household word in the Billings family."</p> + +<p>I mumbled something jolly idiotic—some acknowledgment. But I was pink +about the ears, and I knew it, while she was cool and serene as a lily +of the what-you-call-it, don't you know. I was trying not to see the +pajamas, trying to pretend not to notice them, but dashed if I didn't +only make it worse!</p> + +<p>For she looked down at herself with a laugh—rather an embarrassed +laugh, I thought; and her little shrug and glance directed attention to +her attire.</p> + +<p>"I see you're looking at the pajamas," she said smiling.</p> + +<p>And her eyes looked at me through those drooping lashes—oh, such a way!</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—I assure—certainly not," I stammered hastily. Dash it, I never +was so rebuked and mortified in all my life. What an ass I had been to +seem to notice at all!</p> + +<p>She looked troubled. "Say, do you mind my wearing them?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"I? Certainly not—well, I should say not!" I retorted, almost with +indignation.</p> + +<p>"Sure?" By Jove, what ripping eyes she had!</p> + +<p>"Of course not!" emphatically.</p> + +<p>Her sunny head nodded satisfaction. "That's all right, then. I was +afraid you wouldn't like it—afraid you would think I was acting a +little <i>free</i>. But your man Jenkins—isn't that his name?—said he +thought you would <i>like</i> for me to wear them."</p> + +<p>I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Jen—what's <i>that</i>?" I was amazed, indignant at Jenkins' effrontery. +"He—he suggested that you wear—er—these?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, her glorious eyes shining wistfully.</p> + +<p>"You see, I went to a frat dance last night in Cambridge," she +explained; "and in the hurry this morning, somehow, one of my bags—a +suit-case—was left behind. And when I got here to-night and began +piling the things out of my other bag—well, I saw I was up a tree. Not +a thing to slip into, you know—not so much as a dressing-gown or even a +bathrobe. Then your man saved my life—suggested these pajamas. See?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!"</p> + +<p>I said so; but, dash it, I wasn't sure I did, for I knew so devilish +little about girls. But I got hold of this much: I understood that this +delicately reared creature had missed the restfulness and luxury of a +shift to some sort of dressing-robe after her day of travel. Probably +one of those ribbony, pinky-white fripperies one sees in the windows of +the Avenue shops, rosy, foamy dreams like the—well, like the crest of a +soda cocktail, don't you know. And the pajamas had been adopted as a +comfortable makeshift.</p> + +<p>By Jove! And here she was sitting, calmly telling me all about it—just +as she might to Jack—never thinking a thing about it! My, how charming, +how innocent she was! But, dash it, that was the reason she was so +beautiful—of course, that was it—and I had never seen anybody like her +in all the world before. I knew jolly well I never should again, either. +But I knew I ought to go—and at once.</p> + +<p>"I must cut along now," I thought; "infernal shame to be taking +advantage of her this way!" And then I thought I would just wait a wee +minute longer.</p> + +<p>Just then she turned toward me, her elbow on the arm of the wicker +chair, her dainty, manicured finger-tips supporting her chin.</p> + +<p>"You know, Mr. Lightnut, I wasn't sure you would remember me at all," +she said. "I was such a kid when you saw me last."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," I said, trying to recall the rather hoydenish children I had +seen on the motor trip to Billings' home five years before. "I remember +you were quite a little girl—weren't you?"</p> + +<p>I thought her face darkened a little; then her smile flashed through, +like sunshine through a cloud. Her laugh came on top, like the mellow +ripple of a tiny brook—that sort of thing—oh, you know!</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say now, Mr. Lightnut, cut out the josh," she remonstrated; and I +thought she grew a little red. "No more for mine those sissy, girlie +ways—I've got well over all of that!"</p> + +<p>She tossed one knee over the other and threw herself back in the chair. +She seemed a little piqued. She went on:</p> + +<p>"I just tell you what—there's nothing like a couple of years off at +college for toughening you! Gets all those mamma's baby ways out of you, +you bet your life, and all the slushiness you get from trying to be like +your sisters. Shucks!"</p> + +<p>I caught my breath. Of course, she had no idea how it sounded—this sort +of talk; it was just her innocent frankness, her—what d'ye call +it?—her <i>ingenuousness</i>—dash it!</p> + +<p>She continued musingly: "Gee, but I was soft when I first went away—a +regular pie-faced angel-child!" Her voice had in it a sneer. Then she +straightened up, whirled her chair facing me, and gave me a sounding +slap on the knee. "Say, maybe the fellows I met didn't educate that out +of me mighty quick! Well, I reckon yes!" And she nodded, eying me +sidewise, her pretty chin in the air.</p> + +<p>But, dash me, I was so aghast I couldn't get out a word. Just sat there +batting at her and turning hot and cold by turns. Came devilish near +losing consciousness, by Jove, that's what!</p> + +<p>Of course, I knew she didn't know what she was talking about. Hadn't any +sisters myself, don't you know, and never had learned much about other +fellows' sisters; but, dash it, I knew something about <i>faces</i>, and I +would have staked my life on hers. You can nearly always tell, you know. +But, anyhow, I thought I had better go now.</p> + +<p>I got up. "I say, you want to just make yourself at home," I said. "And +if you don't mind, I'll see you at the boat in the morning."</p> + +<p>She stood up, too, looking rather surprised. "You're not going away?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; not out of town." I thought that was what she meant. I added: +"And as I go out, I'll stop down-stairs and have some one come up and +stay with you."</p> + +<p>She dropped to the arm of the chair, her pretty face showing dismay.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but see here! I'm running you off—I know I am. Say, Mr. Lightnut, +I don't want to do that. I thought sure you were going to be here. +Brother insisted you would be."</p> + +<p>Brother! Nice brother, indeed, for her—poor little thing!</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll be all right," I said reassuringly. "I'm just going over to +the club, don't you know—not far away."</p> + +<p>She came right up to me and placed a hand on each shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Honest Injun, now," she said—and her smile was ravishing. "Honest, +now, Mr. Lightnut, you're going just because I'm here. Say now, own up!"</p> + +<p>And, dash it, there was nothing to do but admit it.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said; and I thought her eyes flashed a little. "Then I +go to a hotel—that's all!"</p> + +<p>"A hotel! Why, you can't do that—oh, I say!"</p> + +<p>"Why can't I?" She was downright angry—I could see it; and how +distractingly lovely she was with that flame in her cheeks!</p> + +<p>But she was just a child—an innocent little child; and how the deuce +could I ever make her understand?</p> + +<p>I stammered: "Why—er—not in New York, you know. They won't take a +lady in at this time of night. They—"</p> + +<p>She snapped her fingers. "Oh, I say, Mr. Lightnut, play easier on that +girlie and lady pedal; cook up a fresh gag! I tell you, I've put all +that behind me. Say, wait till you've known me a little, and I'll bet a +purse you never call <i>me</i> a lady again! Lady! Say, that's <i>funny</i>!"</p> + +<p>And it certainly seemed to strike her sense of humor. She gave me a +sudden punch in the side that fairly left me breathless, and her +laughter rang out birdlike, joyous. Of a sudden I felt devilish awkward +and foolish.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>please</i> stop stringing me, Mr. Lightnut—don't treat me like a +kid. I want to get acquainted." Then her bright face sobered. "Say, was +that on the level—that about your going to leave me? See here, I'm not +bothering you, am I, Mr. Lightnut?"</p> + +<p>"Bothering me!" I ejaculated. "Bothering <i>me</i>? I should say not!"</p> + +<p>I think I must have said it heartily and convincingly, don't you know, +for her lovely face looked pleased.</p> + +<p>"Because if I am," she said earnestly, "I'll fade away into my own +little room there." Her glance ranged toward her door. "It's sure some +swell, that room."</p> + +<p>"So jolly glad you like it," I said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say!" Then her beautiful eyes looked at me full.</p> + +<p>"You know, I didn't expect this—I mean having a room all to myself. +Never."</p> + +<p>And then, while I gasped, she went on, sweetly and calmly:</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Lightnut, Brother Jack would throw seventeen thousand fits if +I went to a hotel, because—" She laughed deliciously. "Well, I promised +him that if he would let me come home by New York I would stay right +here with you and behave myself."</p> + +<p>"Behave yourself!" I echoed indignantly. "Why, look here, do you mean to +say Jack Billings—your own brother, you know—thought you +wouldn't—er,—do that at a hotel?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Thought?</i>" Her laugh this time was explosive. "No, he never thought +it; he <i>knew</i> I wouldn't! He knew I would be tearing around all night +with the boys—<i>that's</i> what!"</p> + +<p>And dash me, if she didn't throw herself back with a kind of swagger, by +Jove!</p> + +<p>"Why, you—you wouldn't do such a thing!" I uttered faintly.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't I?" She straightened suddenly, and her lovely blue eyes +narrowed at me. "Say, Mr. Lightnut, I don't want you to get me sized up +wrong. I'm none of your little waxy gardenias—not much! When I'm in New +York, it's the bright lights and the Great White Way for mine—yes, sir, +every time!"</p> + +<p>And she gave me a blow on the shoulder that was like a stroke from a +man's arm. It sent me down into my chair.</p> + +<p>"If you don't believe me," she added, her face shining with excitement, +"just you ask Jack about last summer when I came through—about that joy +ride to Coney with three Columbia fellows, and how we got pinched. Oh, +mamma, but didn't Jack swear at me!"</p> + + +<p>I heard a noise by the door. Jenkins stood there, his eyes sticking out +like hard boiled eggs.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm back, sir," he said rather falteringly. "Beg pardon, sir; just +thought you'd want to know. I didn't know you—h'm!" And with an odd +look and a little cough Jenkins slipped away. But I scarcely noticed him +at all.</p> + +<p>Poor misguided girl!</p> + +<p>My brain was buzzing like a devilish hive of bees, don't you know. By +Jove, this was something <i>awful</i>!</p> + +<p>And yet—and yet—Her frank, sweet face met mine with a clear light that +there was no mistaking. There was no going behind it—she was a +thoroughbred, a queen—a <i>lady</i>, dash it! I <i>knew</i> it! And I just +settled on that, and was ready to die right then and there if anybody +dared to dispute it. I didn't care a jolly hang how she talked; it was +just nothing—just the demoralizing swagger of a little boarding-school +girl trying to show off like her brothers. And her language? Why, just +the devilish, natural result of having a coarse, slangy brute like +Billings for a brother. Poor little girl! It was a beastly shame.</p> + +<p>She was watching me curiously, smilingly, as she sat there, her +devilishly pretty mouth puckered into a cherry as she softly whistled +and drummed her shining nails upon the chair arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I've shocked you," she said. "Jack says you're so good."</p> + +<p>Dash it, somehow I felt humiliated! She said it in a way that made me +feel like a silly ass, you know.</p> + +<p>But she wasn't thinking about me any more. Her eye fell on the tabouret, +and her little hand stretched toward it.</p> + +<p>"May I?" she said with an arch inquiring glance. "Your cigarettes look +good to me. I emptied my case an hour ago."</p> + +<p>And I proffered them with a show of alacrity. "Pray, pardon me," I said. +"I—I never thought of you smoking." A chuckle came through the tiny +teeth grasping the cigarette. "Thought I was too goody-goody, eh?"</p> + +<p>I stammered something—dashed if I know what—and blinked a little +gloomily as she drew a brisk fire from the flame I tendered.</p> + +<p>Odd thing, by Jove; here I had been going to dinners, world without end, +where fellows' wives and girls and sisters smoked cigarettes, and I +never had thought a thing about it. But now, somehow, I didn't like it +for <i>her</i>. Sort of thing well enough for other chaps' girls and +sisters, you know, but—well, this was <i>different</i>, by Jove! Devilish +queer thing, that, what a lot of things seem the caper for them that we +don't like for "our own," eh?</p> + +<p>And yet—oh, I say, she certainly did look fetching about it—downright +bewitching, you know! I think maybe it was because she didn't fumble the +thing as if she was afraid of it—as if it was just a red hot coal and +going to burn her. Most of them do, you know. No, this girl really +seemed to enjoy it. Inhaled the whole thing at three draws and reached +for another.</p> + +<p>"Do—er—you smoke much?" I ventured anxiously. "Cigarettes, you know?"</p> + +<p>She pulled a sparkling half-inch as she shook her little head. I felt +awfully relieved. "Not for me," she remarked carelessly. "I prefer a +pipe."</p> + +<p>"<i>Pipe!</i>" I repeated feebly.</p> + +<p>The golden head inclined. "Bet you! Good old, well-seasoned brier for +mine—well-caked and a little strong." Puff-puff. "Oh, damn your patent +sanitary pipes, I say!"</p> + +<p>And as backward I collapsed upon the cushions, she threw her leg over +the arm of her chair and shot two long cones of smoke from her dainty +nostrils.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>ARCADIAN SIMPLICITY</h3> + + +<p>A moment later I had another shock.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you for looking at me so hard," she said, rubbing her +chin and looking, I thought, a little confused. "For did you ever see a +face like mine?"</p> + +<p>"I—I never did!" I said stammeringly, for, by Jove, the question was so +unexpected; but I knew I said it earnestly and with conviction in every +word.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Never got a chance to shave, you know—caught the train by +such a margin—and my kit's in that other bag. Guess I'll have to impose +on you in the morning for one of your razors."</p> + +<p>I stared at her in horror.</p> + +<p>"Shave? You don't shave?" I protested blankly.</p> + +<p>"Myself, you mean? Have to; I haven't got a man to do it for me." She +seemed to sigh. "Not old enough yet to have a man, Jack says."</p> + +<p>And just here her attention seemed to center on my cellarette over in +the corner.</p> + +<p>"Gee, but it's warm to-night, isn't it?" she remarked absently.</p> + +<p>And there was nothing to do but take the hint or leave it; and after +all, she was a guest, you know!</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will permit me to offer you some refreshment," I suggested, +rising. I knew it sounded devilish stiff; and I knew, moreover, that I +looked like a jolly muff, in fact.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I will," she chuckled. "Say, don't urge me too hard, Mr. +Lightnut; you might embarrass me."</p> + +<p>I did not want to embarrass her. "I thought perhaps a lemon soda would +refresh you," I explained. "Or, if you will allow me, I will have +Jenkins make you one of his famous seltzer lemonades. Perhaps, though, +you would prefer just a plain—"</p> + +<p>I halted in confusion, for she was laughing at me.</p> + +<p>"A plain cup of tea," she gurgled, "or a <i>crème de menthe</i>!" And then +her laughter burst deliciously. "Say, do you know, honestly, I'm only +just getting on to that dry humor of yours. You've had me fooled. You do +it with such a serious face, you know. Say, it's <i>great</i>!"</p> + +<p>I tried to smile, but I knew it was a devilish sickly go—the more so, +because just at that moment her slender fingers discarded the remnant of +her last cigarette and reached for a cigar. Another instant, and she had +deftly clipped and lighted it.</p> + +<p>I decided I wouldn't ring for Jenkins.</p> + +<p>I felt ashamed as I looked in the cellarette, and wondered what the +deuce I should offer her. Couldn't think of anything I had ever heard of +boarding-school girls going in for except ice-cream soda; and, dash it, +I didn't have any ice-cream soda. Nearest thing would be a little +seltzer and ginger ale. That would do.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, I'm going to make you a highball," I said, trying to assume +a frisky, jocular air.</p> + +<p>Her voice lifted in alarm. "Nay, nay, Clarence—not for me!" she urged +hastily.</p> + +<p>"But it's only—"</p> + +<p>"No fizzy adulterations in mine—not on your life." She followed me +across the room. "Just give me the straight, pure goods—anything, just +so it's whisky."</p> + +<p>And before I could say a word—if, indeed, I could have said a word—she +had selected a decanter of Scotch, and with cigar tilted upward in her +tender mouth, was absorbingly pouring a shining stream of the amber +fluid.</p> + +<p>To see the slow curving of that delicately molded wrist, the challenging +flash of the saucy eyes of blue, by Jove, it made me just forget all +about what she was doing till the fluid ran over the brim. And then, +before I could intercept her, she had lightly gestured her glass to +mine, and in a flash the stuff was gone.</p> + +<p>Gone! A full whisky glass; and I recalled with a shiver of horror that +it was very high proof liquor—something I seldom touched myself, but +kept on hand for certain of my friends.</p> + +<p>"I say, you know!" I gasped in consternation.</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully afraid that will—er—will—" I gulped wordlessly.</p> + +<p>The coral lips curved scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Get <i>me</i> jingled?" She looked as she might have if I had insulted her. +"Maybe so in those girlie-girlie days you were trying to josh me about, +but not since these two years I've been at college." She shook her +lovely, bright head, and following a long enjoyable pull at the cigar, +projected five perfect rings at a frescoed cherub in the ceiling. The +exquisite eyes softened dreamily as under the spell of some pleasing +thought—some tender reminiscence.</p> + +<p>"Why, do you know," she said, looking at me earnestly, "when I was home +for the holidays—" Then she paused. "Don't tell Brother Jack I told you +this—will you, Mr. Lightnut? He's so sensitive about it."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," I said feelingly.</p> + +<p>I thought the wistful face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Well, when I was home, then, I put Brother Jack under the table two +nights running; and you know that's going some!"</p> + +<p>And smiling proudly, she poured out another! But not any more, for I put +away the decanter.</p> + +<p>My brain was reeling, as they say in books; dash it, I was almost sick. +Poor, poor little girl! And nobody to remonstrate with her. What a +shame—what a shame!</p> + +<p>By Jove, I wondered if she would listen to me! I fixed my glass +resolutely as we resumed our seats, and bent toward her earnestly.</p> + +<p>"May I say something very seriously, Miss Billings?" I began nervously. +"Without offense, you know—"</p> + +<p>But she was off in a fit of chuckling. Most girls giggled, I had always +heard, but she chuckled. Somehow, I liked it less than anything she did; +it sounded so devilish ghastly, you know. And then it was so awfully +embarrassing—oh, awfully. If you've never tried to remonstrate with a +girl about her vicious habits and had her chuckle, you just can't +imagine! I felt my cheeks flushing jolly red and looked down, and then I +had to look somewhere else quickly, for I seemed to be staring rudely at +the ends of the pajamas, where her feet, as the poet chap says, "like +little mice, stole in and out—" only, in this case, they were thrust +into bedroom slippers, that looked oddly like a pair of my own—but +miles and miles smaller.</p> + +<p>"Say, do you know," she was chortling, "the way you do get off that +Willie boy sort of talk—oh!" And she placed her hand to her side as she +laughed. "I can see how Jack thinks you're the greatest ever, Mr. +Lightnut."</p> + +<p>She leaned forward eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Look here, I do <i>wish</i> you would let me call you 'Dicky.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say—will you?" exploded from my mouth.</p> + +<p>"<i>Will</i> I?" Her look made my blood leap. "You just watch me—<i>Dicky</i>! +Oh, say, this is great; maybe it won't take a fall out of old +Jack—always bragging that you allow only two or three to call you +that."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will always call me Dicky," I said—and said it very softly. +By Jove, I could hardly keep from taking her hand!</p> + +<p>"You bet I think it's awfully good of you, Lightnut—I mean, Dicky." +Then her face grew pensive. "Say, do you know, I need a friend like +you—just now, I mean—oh, worst kind."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" I said eagerly, and hitched nearer. She proceeded:</p> + +<p>"Haven't you had things sometimes you wanted to talk about to +somebody—well, things you couldn't just tell to your brother or +sisters—oh, nor even your room-mate? <i>You</i> understand."</p> + +<p>I wasn't sure that I did, for she was blushing furiously, and in her +eyes was an appeal.</p> + +<p>By Jove, some jolly love affair, I guessed suddenly. My heart just sank +like a lump of what's-its-name, but my whole soul went out in sympathy +for her. I made up my mind, then and there, to put myself aside.</p> + +<p>"Devilish glad—I mean delighted to have you tell me anything," I +murmured rather weakly; "but—er—I should think your mother—"</p> + +<p>"The mater—tell her!" Her hand lifted. "She'd guy the life out of me! +Besides, she's in Europe." She paced to the window and back.</p> + +<p>I protested indignantly: "I don't see how any mother—"</p> + +<p>"Aw, forget it!" she broke in, and I winced again at slang from those +sweet lips. "No, sir; I'm going to unload the whole thing on <i>you</i>, or +nobody."</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, the next thing I knew she had perched on the broad arm of +the Morris chair in which I sat, her arm resting lightly above my +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Here's what I want to know about," I heard her sigh. "When you're +engaged to one person and meet another you like better, how are you +going to—well, chuck it with the first, you know—and still do the +square thing? There, that's what's hit me, Dicky; and I'm up against it +for fair!" Her hand gently patted my shoulder. "I'm telling you, old +chap, because I know you'll understand—because I like you better than +any man I ever saw—that's right!"</p> + +<p>I was just afraid to move! Afraid she'd stop; afraid she'd go on. And +all the while I was feeling happier than I ever had in all my +life—happier than I ever knew people could be, you know. I never +thought her bold—dash it, no—knew it was just her adorable, delicious, +Arcadian simplicity, by Jove! That explained it, just as it explained to +me all her other unconventionality.</p> + +<p>"So now it's up to you," she said, "and I want to know what's the +answer."</p> + +<p>The answer!</p> + +<p>And how could I give her any answer? No, by Jove, I knew jolly well I +couldn't take advantage of such circumstances—of her artless +confession; knew devilish well it wouldn't do, you know. Might reproach +me in years to come; and then—and then, there was Billings!</p> + +<p>So I just contented myself with looking up smilingly, but it was +hard—awfully, awfully hard, dash it—and I just felt like a jolly +cad—or fool. Couldn't tell which.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>CONFIDENCES</h3> + + +<p>This beautiful creature had proposed to me!</p> + +<p>By Jove, that's what it amounted to practically; and now, as she said, +it was up to me. Yet I couldn't say a word!</p> + +<p>"Well, what must I do about the other one?" she insisted.</p> + +<p>The question reminded me of the entanglement to which her frank +simplicity had confessed. And she expected me, of all others, to tell +her what to do! I looked up into the radiant, crimsoned face as she bent +forward slightly, her lips parted, her eyes eager—expectant. She was +hanging upon my reply.</p> + +<p>I coughed slightly. "That question is hardly fair, you know," I said +meaningly. "You see, it hits me rather personally."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said.</p> + +<p>I nodded and tried to find her hand as I looked down.</p> + +<p>"So <i>that's</i> where the shoe pinches!" And she whistled thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>And just then my upward reaching hand found hers. And yet no, it +couldn't be her hand, either; it felt like the crash cover of the +cushion—rough and fibrous. And yet, by Jove, it <i>was</i> a hand, for it +gave mine a grip that almost broke my fingers and then dropped them. By +the time I looked up, I saw only her little palm resting upward on her +knee.</p> + +<p>It was funny; but I had other things to think about than puzzles.</p> + +<p>She sighed. "Well, I'm the one that can feel for you, Dicky." Here the +sigh lifted and her laugh pealed like a chime of silver bells. "I guess +Brother Jack doesn't know as much about your affairs as he thinks, does +he—eh? Why, he told me you were more afraid of a girl than of a mad +dog."</p> + +<p>And a slapping grip fell on my shoulder that made me tingle from head to +toe. And yet I wished she wouldn't do that; if she did it again, I +should just lose my head—I knew I should.</p> + +<p>But here she rose, stretched her arms, and dropped into the wicker +arm-chair. She hitched it nearer to me.</p> + +<p>"You see, it's like this," she began, assuming a confidential air. "You +know my sister's up at school at Cambridge, too."</p> + +<p>"At Radcliffe College—yes." I nodded.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Well, it's her room-mate!"</p> + +<p>"Eh? I don't believe I—" I paused perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"That's right—her room-mate, I tell you! And in a day or two she's +coming home with Sis for a visit. I want you to come up for a week +end—won't you—and look her over—I mean, see her and tell me what you +think of her. You'll go crazy about her—oh, I know you will!"</p> + +<p>I entered a protest. "Oh, I say now, you know, there's only one girl I +ever saw I would care to look at twice."</p> + +<p>She smiled adorably. "Oh, don't I know all about how you feel? But I +just want you to see this girl—she's the prettiest and swellest that's +been around Boston for many a day; and on Sunday morning she could give +the flag to all the Avenue. Why, Dicky, she's from China!"</p> + +<p>"China!" I must have looked the scorn I felt. "Oh, come now, you don't +think a Chinese girl is—"</p> + +<p>"Not Chinese, Dicky." In her eagerness, she moved so near, the silk of +her pajamas brushed my hand. "She's English. Her dad's the British +Governor General of Hong Kong—Colonel Francis Kirkland, you +know—beefy-looking old chap with white mutton chops—I saw his +picture."</p> + +<p>Hong Kong! I wondered if she knew Mastermann, the chap who had sent me +the red pajamas. Why, dash it, of course she would; for this fellow +Mastermann was out there on government business, and he and the Governor +must be thrown together a good deal.</p> + + +<p>Her musical laugh broke in on my speculations. "But the funniest thing +is, Dicky, her name's the same as mine."</p> + +<p>Her name! By Jove, and until this moment, I had not thought—</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say," I exclaimed eagerly, "what <i>is</i> your name, anyway?"</p> + +<p>The lustrous eyes opened wide. "Why, you mean to say you don't know? +Thought you knew I was named after the governor. And she's named after +<i>hers</i>—Frances, from Francis, you know—just the difference in a +letter. See?"</p> + +<p>"Frances!" I murmured lingeringly. "So your name's Frances?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and hers is Frances—odd, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>I assented, but I wished she would drop the other girl—I wasn't +interested there, except just because she was.</p> + +<p>Her bosom lifted with a sigh. "Don't you think Frances is a peach of a +name?"</p> + +<p>"It's heavenly!" I whispered. "And I'm glad to hear about your friend, +too."</p> + +<p>Her sweet face clouded. "Not much of a friend; she don't lose any sleep +over me," she commented gloomily. "Then there's Sis double-crossing me +with her influence ever since I got hauled up before Prexy at Easter. +Sis is awfully prissy."</p> + +<p>Her tone was almost savage. I strained incredulously after her meaning.</p> + +<p>"Did I understand you to say you were brought up before the president +there at Radcliffe?"</p> + +<p>"Radcliffe?" Her head shook. "No—Harvard." And I nodded, recalling the +affiliation between the two institutions at Cambridge.</p> + +<p>I wondered what silly, tyrannical straining of red tape discipline on +some one's part had subjected this sensitive, refined girl to the +humiliating ordeal of having to appear before the president of the +college. Probably for plucking some trashy flower, or, at the worst, +looking twice at some sappy freshman acquaintance waving his hand from a +frat house.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, a devilish shame!" I ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"I should say!" Her voice was aggrieved. "All for a measly prize fight."</p> + +<p>"Prize fight!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>She nodded brightly. "Oh, a modest one, you know—not, of course, a +Jeffries-Johnson affair, but I tell you we had them going some for a +round and a half. Athletics is my long suit—just you feel those +biceps." And with sudden movement she swept upward the wide, silken +sleeve, showing a limb like the lost arm of the Venus de +what's-its-name.</p> + +<p>"Go on—just feel it," she commanded, flexing the arm.</p> + +<p>"I—I—" And I gulped and balked.</p> + +<p>"<i>Feel</i> it, I tell you!" And I did.</p> + +<p>And then I almost fell over, I received such a shock. For my fingers +seemed to be clasping, not the soft, rounded contour I beheld, but a +great massed protuberance, hard and unyielding as a bunch of dried +putty. My fingers could not half span it.</p> + +<p>I jerked them away, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful," I said faintly, and I batted perplexedly at the exquisite, +symmetrical arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing," she said indifferently, jerking down her sleeve. +"I'm a little undertrained now; been putting in all my time on leg work. +That's what counts in foot-ball.</p> + +<p>"Foot-ball!" I questioned, astonished. "Why, I didn't know—"</p> + +<p>"That I was on the team? Surest thing you know; that's why I've got all +this mop of hair—comes below my collar—see?"</p> + +<p>Her collar, indeed! It was easy to see that, if unbound, it would reach +considerably below her waist. But <i>foot-ball</i>! Why, she must mean +basket-ball, of course. I opened my mouth to remind her, when she +proceeded:</p> + +<p>"But I was going to tell you about this prize fight. Well, this fight +was just a little one, you know. Purse of eighteen dollars; and we had +to chip in afterward with an extra three to get Mug Kelly—that's the +Charlestown Pet, you know—to stand the gaff for a second round. Why, he +was all in on the count at the end of the first round—what do you think +of that?"</p> + +<p>"But I say, you know—" I began, but she lifted her hand.</p> + +<p>"I know—I know what you're going to say, Dicky; you think we were a +bunch of easy marks, that's what you think. But how could we tell what +my room-mate was going to do to the Pet—we couldn't, you know."</p> + +<p>"Your room-mate!" I exclaimed aghast. "A—an other young lady—in a +pugilistic encounter? Oh, I say!"</p> + +<p>She chuckled. "G'long; stop your kidding!" And she kicked playfully at +me. Then she assumed a mincing air—finger on chin, lips pursed, and +eyes rolling upward, you know.</p> + +<p>"Yes, another sweet young peacherino—Miss Billings' little room-mate—a +beef that hits the beam at about two-sixty—Little Lizzie, you know."</p> + +<p>"Lizzie!" I repeated vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, say, Dicky, cut it out; let me finish. Well, another minute, and +the Pet would have been put to sleep, but just then the coppers nailed +us." She added gloomily: "And that's what queered me with Sis. Fierce, +ain't it?"</p> + +<p>She sighed and her beautiful lashes drooped sadly. By Jove, I was so +jolly floored I couldn't manage a word. I knew, of course, that my heart +was broken, but it didn't matter. I loved her just the same; I should +always love her; and she had tried to let me know she loved me better +than any man she had ever met. What the deuce did anything else matter, +anyhow? We would marry and go out on a ranch or something of that sort, +where the false, polished what-you-call-it of civilization didn't count, +and no rude rebuff or sneer of society would ever chill her warm +impulsiveness.</p> + +<p>She smiled archly. "See here, Dicky, I thought we were going to tell +each other the story of our lives. Your turn now; tell me how she looks +to you, this girl that came at last—there's always the one girl comes +at last, they say, if you wait long enough. Go on—tell me—what's she +like?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, you don't know!" I said significantly.</p> + +<p>"Me? Of course I wouldn't know—I want you to tell me. Say, is she +really so pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty," indeed! It was like this adorable child of nature not to +understand that she was the most perfect and faultless creation on +earth!</p> + +<p>I leaned toward her. "<i>Is</i> she pretty?" I repeated reproachfully.</p> + +<p>She eyed me slyly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course I know how <i>you</i> feel," she said, "but draw me a +<i>picture</i> of her."</p> + +<p>"A picture!" I laughed. "All right, here goes: Eighteen, 'a daughter of +the gods, divinely tall and most divinely fair'—that sort of thing. +Features classic—perfect oval, you know, and profile to set an artist +mad with joy. Eyes? Blue as Hebe's, but big and true and tender; hair, a +great, shining nugget of virgin gold. Form divine—the ideal of a poet's +dream—the alluring, the elusive, the unattainable, the despair of the +sculptor's chisel."</p> + +<p>"My!" said Miss Billings, staring.</p> + +<p>But I was not through. "Complexion? Her skin as smooth as the heart of a +seashell and as delicately warm as its rosy blush when kissed by the +amorous tide."</p> + +<p>"Gee!" ejaculated my darling.</p> + +<p>I looked at her closely. "And in one matchless cheek a dimple divine +such as might have been left by the barbed arrow of Cupid when it awoke +Psyche from her swoon of death. In short, she might be the dainty fairy +princess of our childhood fantasies, were she less superb in figure. On +the other hand, she might be the sunny-haired daughter of a Viking king, +were she not too delicately featured and molded."</p> + +<p>That was all I could remember from the description as I had read it in a +novel, but I was glad I had stored it up, by Jove, for it suited her to +a dot. She didn't say a word for a moment, but just sat there eying me +kind of sidewise, her little upper lip lifted in an odd way. Then of a +sudden she shook her head and swung her knees up over the arm of her +chair.</p> + +<p>"Well, Dicky, as a describer you sure are the slushy spreader. Say, +you've got Eleanor Glyn backed off the boards."</p> + +<p>She went on eagerly: "I don't care, though; slushy or not, your +picture's just perfect for <i>her</i>. Why, your girl must be a ringer for +the girl at Radcliffe. Only thing you left out was the freckle on the +chin."</p> + +<p>Freckle on the chin! By Jove, I left it out on purpose, for I thought +she might not like it. I wondered if all girls at Radcliffe had freckles +on the chin.</p> + +<p>She lay back, regarding me inscrutably. "If she looks like that," she +sighed, "you ought to love her very much, Dicky."</p> + +<p>I couldn't say anything, for words are so deuced inadequate, you know. +But I just made an effort to look it all.</p> + +<p>"Of course," sighing, "you ought to feel that way; and, another thing, +Dicky: you'll never forget where you first saw her, will you? One of the +things one never forgets."</p> + +<p>"Right in this room," I murmured; "and in that wicker chair."</p> + +<p>"Really?" Her surprised ejaculation was delicious. By Jove, how +entrancingly coquettish of her! How jolly clever!</p> + +<p>"Go on; tell me how she was dressed—never mind any more picture +business; just tell me in four or five words. Bet you can't do it!" She +slipped over again to the arm of my chair.</p> + +<p>In her eyes was a challenge and I took it up.</p> + +<p>"In black silk pajamas," I said daringly.</p> + +<p>Her blue eyes opened wide. For a moment I feared she would be offended +at my audacity, but her birdlike carol of laughter reassured me.</p> + +<p>"Say, <i>you're</i> not so slow, <i>are</i> you?"</p> + +<p>And her hand came down on my back with a force that made me jump.</p> + +<p>"Only shows," she gurgled merrily, "how little Jack knows about you. +Say, you'd better never tell <i>him</i> about those black pajamas!"</p> + +<p>She spoke chokingly through a storm of laughter as she rocked there +against my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"And say—the joke of it!" She banged me on the back with a clublike +blow, incredible from that little hand. "The joke of it is, he thought +I'd be so safe with you! Oh, mamma!"</p> + +<p>And off she went again.</p> + +<p>I shifted uneasily. I did not like it—her merriment over what was +perfectly obvious and rational. Of course, Billings knew she would be +safe. Why the deuce shouldn't he?</p> + +<p>But the matter of the pajamas was another thing. Her receiving me in +them was a contingency I could not possibly have anticipated and +avoided, and yet a withdrawal because of them or even because of her +presence here had been shown to be a course inexplicable to her. She was +too innocent, too ingenuous, too <i>ingénue</i> to understand that I was +invading the sanctuary of her privacy. Yet to have taken any course that +would have appeared to make correction of her error come from me would +have been appallingly caddish and cruel. No, the best course had seemed +to be to go right on—take no notice—and then, as soon as she retired, +slip away to the club. That seemed the gentlemanly thing.</p> + +<p>Yet now her words implied a certain consciousness that her brother might +frown upon her attire, might even visit me with reproach. I was +troubled, and her next speech was not calculated to reassure me.</p> + +<p>"But I'll—I'll never say a word, Dicky," she said, coming out of her +laughter and panting breathlessly. "Never! And don't <i>you</i>, +Dicky—don't you ever! Understand? Mum's the word!"</p> + +<p>I looked up distressfully to protest, but her little head was shaking +earnestly, the long, delicate hair wisps about her forehead wavering +like tiny, curling wreaths of golden smoke.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she emphasized soberly; "if you ever let <i>that</i> cat out of +the bag, it'll be all up with <i>me</i>—I mean Jack will never let me come +again. You must promise me."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but me no 'buts'—<i>promise</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Why, then—er—of course, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"That's right, because I want to come again—that is, if you <i>want</i> me. +But if Brother Jack was on to you, Dicky, as I am, he would sooner have +me at a hotel, that's all."</p> + +<p>"But my dear Frances—"</p> + +<p>"I tell you I <i>know</i>, Dicky; he doesn't approve of young ladies in +pajamas." She chuckled. "Not even black ones."</p> + +<p>She stood up, looking at herself and performing a graceful pirouette +before the long pier glass.</p> + +<p>"Now, if they had been crimson," she proceeded, "he might have felt +different. Old Jack's great on Harvard, and so am I."</p> + +<p>Of course. All Radcliffe girls were, I knew.</p> + +<p>By Jove, how I wished I could show her the lovely crimson pajamas +Mastermann had sent me from China! But I would have to summon Jenkins +to find them, and besides, it would be of questionable taste to present +them to her attention.</p> + +<p>"Great idea, this, having pajamas in your college colors," she said. I +thought so, too, as I noted admiringly the rich effect of her golden +head above the black silk. But I thought the color a devilish odd +one—somber, you know—for colors of a young girl's school.</p> + +<p>"My! my!" she murmured, "wouldn't I just love <i>to live</i> in pajamas—just +go about in 'em all the time, you know! Why can't we, I wonder?" Her +face flashed me a ravishing smile; and while I was blinking over her +question, she went on: "Funny how the girls even are taking to 'em—even +Sis wears 'em!" She chuckled: "Hers are gray flannellette. But the girl +I'm telling you about—<i>she</i> don't; Sis told the mater about it. It +seems that before she left China, some high muck-a-muck gave her +governor a swell pair of silk ones—something like these, I guess, but I +don't know of what color. But, anyhow, they were too delicate and fine +to be wasted on an old stiff like that, and he had sense enough to know +it. So he passed 'em down the line to her—Frances, you know. Well, +sir—" Here she sidled to the table and half leaned, half perched, upon +its edge; and I was so distracted watching her graceful poise and +gestures, that I lost what she was saying, by Jove.</p> + +<p>It was her trill of laughter at something she had said, and the +question: "Wasn't that funny?" that brought me back to what she was +telling me.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—said she just scared her maid—oh, <i>batty</i>! Because +she looked so ugly in 'em—that's what <i>she</i> thinks, but of +course—<i>shucks</i>! Anyhow, she never wore 'em any more, and a day or two +later some coolie stole them—sold 'em probably."</p> + +<p>Suddenly she yawned, stretched her arms above her head, and flashed me a +dazzling smile. By Jove, in the loose-fitting garments she looked for +all the world like an Oriental houri, or some jolly lovely thing like +that.</p> + +<p>"Gee, but I'm sleepy!" she said behind her little hand. "If you'll +excuse me, Dicky, I believe it will be off to the springs—the bed +springs, for little Frankie. Good night, then. See you in the morning."</p> + +<p>And with another radiant smile, she moved toward her room.</p> + +<p>"Good night," I said wistfully.</p> + +<p>By Jove, somehow I had hoped she would offer to kiss me, now that we +were engaged in a way. But then, of course, it wouldn't do—she knew +that. So ought I. Perhaps in the morning at the boat!</p> + +<p>And the door closed behind her. I stood blinking after her a moment; +then I fixed my attention gloomily upon the cellarette. Poor little girl +and her foolish—but adorably foolish—college bravado! Sorrowfully I +locked the cellarette and dropped the key in my pocket.</p> + +<p>Then I locked the outer doors of the hall and apartment, leaving the +keys unmolested on the inside. On the whole I decided I would not have +up the janitor's gossipy wife.</p> + +<p>Next I sought Jenkins at the back.</p> + +<p>"We will lock up back here, Jenkins, and go over to my rooms at the club +for the night."</p> + +<p>Jenkins stared fixedly over my head. "Certainly, sir."</p> + +<p>"And Jenkins—h'm!" I crumpled a bill into his mechanical palm. "You +will never allude to having seen that sweet—um—you understand, +Jenkins? Never seem to remember, even to me, that you ever saw any one +up here to-night."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, sir," indignantly. "I wouldn't, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Yet his eyes, rolling back from the ceiling, seemed to hold me oddly for +an instant. In them was a touch of sadness.</p> + +<p>"But may I speak of that Mr. Billings, sir? You know, if he comes—"</p> + +<p>"Jenkins!" sharply.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins' mouth closed, traplike.</p> + +<p>But all in vain my early rise the next morning, my careful toilet and my +dash in a taxi to a florist and then to Tiffany's for a ring. At the +pier I dodged about in the crowd, the boy trailing behind me with the +big purple box, but not a devilish thing could I see of Frances. By +Jove, I almost broke my monocle straining! At last I was sure she must +be left, for the last passengers were passing over the gang-plank.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Dicky!"</p> + +<p>The voice, coarse and hearty, came from an athletic young man in a +hurrah suit. On his head, perched jauntily above a mass of yellow hair, +was a straw hat with a crimson band.</p> + +<p>I stared at him through my glass, but it was not any one I knew at all. +I looked at him coldly, for there's nothing so devilish annoying as +familiarities from strangers. I thought I could freeze him off.</p> + +<p>But he only grinned. "Looking for Miss Billings?"</p> + +<p>"I—I haven't seen her," I answered stiffly. But his question alarmed +me.</p> + +<p>He chuckled in my face. "Guess you don't know her in her clothes, eh, +Dicky?" And I did not need the punch he gave me in the side to make me +stagger backward. "A thousand thanks, and good-by, old chap. I see +they're hauling in the plank."</p> + +<p>He lingered for one bearlike grab at my hand.</p> + +<p>"And say, don't forget—for I know Jack Billings better than you +do—don't ever let him know about all that Scotch last night."</p> + +<p>He called over his shoulder with a grin: "Keep it dark—as dark as those +black pajamas, Dicky!"</p> + +<p>And as long as I could see, he stood on the deck, waving his hat at me +as I stood there with my mouth open, my eyes following him with horror.</p> + +<p>By Jove, who was he, and what did he know?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>HER BROTHER JACK</h3> + + +<p>"Good night, Dicky!" came up the elevator shaft. And then more "good +nights," growing fainter with their laughter as the car shot down.</p> + +<p>"Good night," I called after them. "Devilish sorry you fellows won't +stay longer!"</p> + +<p>"Jolly good lie, Jenkins," I said, yawning sleepily, as I dropped back +into my own apartment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," assented Jenkins demurely. "It's sleeping on the divan the +other night, sir. Eight hours there ain't nothing like eight hours in +bed and in your pajamas."</p> + +<p>"Pajamas!" I ejaculated, startled.</p> + +<p>For all day I had been thinking of <i>her</i>. I wondered if Billings would +happen to think to invite me up for the week end. But he had so many +times, and I had never gone.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, that reminds me," I said. "Those red silk pajamas!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Jenkins' face hardened in an odd, wooden way.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering, Jenkins, if those pajamas were torn any in our little +row the other night."</p> + +<p>Poor Jenkins winced a little. "I think not, sir," he muttered +humbly—"leastwise, they were all right last night when Mr.—" He seemed +to catch himself abruptly. "I mean when I found them this morning, sir."</p> + +<p>He returned with the garments I had received from Mastermann, and again +we spread them under the lamp on the table. They looked singularly +smooth and unwrinkled. There was not a single tear or break, not even +with the delicate cords that twisted to form the frogs of the coat.</p> + +<p>"My, sir! But ain't they red!" breathed Jenkins. "Them cords look like +little red snakes."</p> + +<p>I cut an anxious glance at Jenkins, for I did not like his reference to +snakes. Seemed ominous, somehow. But his appearance was composed and +reassuring. And, by Jove, come to look, the cords did look just like +tiny, coiled serpents of glowing fire. Why, they were so jolly red they +hurt your eyes. Fact! And thin as the beautiful stuff was, this brighter +red ran all over the other, covering every inch of it and forming the +closest, finest what-you-call-it embroidery. It was as faint and dainty +a pattern as that on a soap bubble! Fact is, I could not trace it, even +with my glass.</p> + +<p>The only part that wasn't covered with this embroidery business was the +stuff used to cover the knots, or little balls, over which the cords +were meant to hook. In working with some of these cords, idly fastening +and unfastening them, I got a little impatient with one that seemed +tight, you know, and I used my manicure knife to pull the knot through.</p> + +<p>"Careful, sir," warned Jenkins. "Likely to cut something."</p> + +<p>By Jove! No sooner said, than I did it!</p> + +<p>The dashed blade slipped somehow and cut into the threads that tied the +covers or caps or whatever-you-call-'ems, over the knots. And when I +pulled, the beastly piece of silk came off in my fingers.</p> + +<p>And then—oh, but I say! I just gave a sort of yell and dropped the +whole thing!</p> + +<p>Ever have some silly ass try to scare you by poking a red hot cigar at +you in the dark? Know how you jerk back? Well, there you are! For, give +you my word, when I peeled off the little cloth cap, regular blazes of +crimson fire seemed to shoot from the end of the knot.</p> + +<p>Fact is, it wasn't a knot at all, but a button—a devilish glassy +button, something bigger than a dime, perhaps, and thick as the end of +your little finger. And there it lay against the silk, burning its way +through it like a red coal of fire.</p> + +<p>Dashed if it didn't look that way, anyhow. I just sat there blinking +like a jolly owl, waiting to see the stuff begin to smoke, before I had +presence of mind to tell Jenkins to touch it to see if it would burn.</p> + +<p>But Jenkins wouldn't. He just stood there with his jaw hanging and his +eyes bulging like champagne corks!</p> + +<p>And it was just then that Billings rolled in.</p> + +<p>I say "rolled in," because it always looks that way. That's the way +Billings is built, you know.</p> + +<p>"I say, Dicky," he panted, "just missed another infernal express! Plenty +more trains, but I had a great inspiration strike me that I'd let you +put me up for the night. Hat, Jenkins! Now, don't say a word, Dicky, old +chap. Cane, Jenkins! Great pleasure, assure you—won't inconvenience me +at all. Gloves, Jenkins! Just give me something to sleep in, and I'll be +as comfortable here as I would be at the club—so don't worry any about +me, old chap. By the way, want to thank you for taking care of the kid. +Got home all right, I understand."</p> + +<p>He plunked like a jolly elephant into the largest and most comfortable +chair in the room and wheezed for breath.</p> + +<p>"And, Jenkins!" He raised one fat finger while he took a gasp. "Don't +mind if I do have a package of Dicky's Koroskos and a sloe fizz—not too +sweet, you know; and you may—"</p> + +<p>He halted, his eyes suddenly riveted to the table, and straightened +inquiringly, his big hands poised upon the padded arms of the chair.</p> + +<p>"Suffering Thomas cats! What's that?" he exclaimed. "The scream +there—flag of Morocco?"</p> + +<p>And then, without pausing for reply, he dashed on:</p> + +<p>"I say, old chap, if you're picking up those, I can get you a few for +nothing. You know Higgins, cashier-that-was of the Widows' National, +eh? Well, Higgins sent the governor a Morocco flag the other day from +Tangier. Fact is, he sent one to every director of the bank—and an +extra large one to that bank examiner!"</p> + +<p>He chuckled wabblingly, like a jolly jellyfish.</p> + +<p>"Talk about a red flag to a bull," he exploded, "why, they—"</p> + +<p>Billings broke off suddenly. Then he climbed heavily to his feet, and +without warning, heaved himself across the room and seized the button I +had just uncovered. Dashed if he didn't almost upset me.</p> + +<p>"Here, I say!" I protested. "Don't lose that cap." I picked it up from +where he had jerked it to the floor. "It's the cover to hide that glass, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Wh-a-a-t!"</p> + +<p>Billings swung round, staring at me with the most curious expression.</p> + +<p>"See here, Dicky," he exclaimed rather excitedly, but in a low tone, as +he cut a side glance at Jenkins siphoning the fizz over at the +cellarette. "What in thunder have you been doing now?"</p> + +<p>By Jove, I turned cold for a minute, I was that startled. I thought he +was going to use the pajamas as an introduction for reference to last +night. But in a minute I saw that he did not mean that.</p> + +<p>"Where on earth did <i>you</i> get anything like this?" And he held up the +button and the garment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say now!" I remonstrated, alarm changing to a mild dudgeon. +Billings' devilish rude manners are so offensive at times. "What do you +mean? It's a present from a friend in China."</p> + +<p>"Present!" Billings' eyes bulged queerly. He stooped toward me, +whispering: "Did he know what this button was?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course he didn't," I answered indignantly. "Never dreamed of +it, of course. I tell you, it was all nicely covered, was +what-you-call-it—upholstered, you know—with devilish nice silk. I cut +it off accidentally, trying to force the thing through that loop. That +left the marble exposed."</p> + +<p>Billings took the glass mechanically from the tray tendered by Jenkins +and sipped it slowly, eying me curiously over the top. Then he set it +back, very deliberately, wiped his mouth with the bit of napery, and +without taking his glance from me, waited until Jenkins had left the +room. Whereupon, after another searching look at the button, he dropped +it with the garment upon the table, and with hands jammed deep in his +pockets, faced me with a long-drawn whistle.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be hanged!" he exclaimed. Just a coarse, vulgar outburst, +you know—no sense to it; no point at all, you know—that's Billings.</p> + +<p>He caught up the coat again. "And these others—four of them—are they +just the same?" he demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>"Dash it, how should I know? I suppose so," I answered indifferently. +And I closed my eyes and leaned back, feeling a bit—just a bit—weary. +Somehow, Billings is always so exhausting when he gets started on +something.</p> + +<p>"Oh, cut it out, old chap," I protested, drowsy-like.</p> + +<p>"I will," I heard him say. Then I guess I must have dropped off a bit, +for the next thing I knew he was shaking me.</p> + +<p>"Dicky! Dicky! Say, look here! <i>Look</i>, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>I did look, and—well, I was jolly vexed, that's all.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say now!" I spoke severely—just that way, you know. I went on, +remonstrating: "Devilish silly joke, if you ask me. You've gone and +ruined the thing, Billings! Flashy buttons like that, you know—too +tawdry, too cheap."</p> + +<p>"<i>Cheap!</i>" He almost shouted it. Then he leaned over the back of the +leather chair and pounded his fat head against the cushions, writhing +his big bulk from side to side.</p> + +<p>"Quite impossible," I said firmly. "Not <i>en règle</i> at all, you know!" +And I fixed my glass and stared gloomily at the things. The five shiny +buttons just lay there against the delicate silk like so many fiery +crimson cherries. And they reminded me of something—something—what the +deuce was it? Something devilish familiar, whatever it was. And then of +a sudden I had it!</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you know!" And I just fell back in consternation. "This is +awful! I'd look like a—er—dashed human cocktail. Oh, I say!"</p> + +<p>Then Billings, who was already gasping like a jolly what's-its-name, +dropped upon the arm of the chair and held his side.</p> + +<p>"Dicky, you—you'll be the death of me yet," he panted.</p> + +<p>I never try to follow Billings. Nobody ever does. So I paid no attention +to him. Shaking his head, he lifted the garment again and held it out of +the direct rays of the shaded lamp. The five buttons leaped out of the +shadow like port lights down the bay on a moonless night.</p> + +<p>He leered at me, chuckling. "Look <i>cheap</i> to you, eh? What you might +call <i>outré</i>, so to speak?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, of course," I answered ruefully. "I can't sleep in the things +now, you know. What would people say?"</p> + +<p>Billings stared at me disagreeably a moment and said something under his +breath. Then he caught up the buttons and the silk, and crushing them in +his hands, buried his face in the mass.</p> + +<p>"Oh you beauties, you darlings!" I heard him murmur.</p> + +<p>Then he looked at the buttons again, and dash it, he kissed one. +Maudlin—jolly maudlin, I say, if you ask me!</p> + +<p>"I say, Dicky," he said carelessly. "You may not care for them, but I've +taken rather a shine to these buttons. Mind letting me have one, eh?"</p> + +<p>He flashed a quick glance at me and then away.</p> + +<p>"Mind? Why, certainly not; take 'em all, old chap, and welcome." Yet I +responded gloomily enough, scarcely polite, you know. And I felt too +jolly prostrated to be curious as to what he could possibly want with +the things. Waistcoat buttons, likely—Billings was given to loud dress +and other bounder stunts. But he just sat there looking down after I +spoke, and presently stole a queer glance at me.</p> + +<p>"Dicky," he said, and paused. Then he fished out that perfectly +impossible pipe of his and began to pack it, slowly shaking his head. +"Dicky, anybody that would take advantage of you would lift a baby's +milk gurgler."</p> + +<p>Of course, I saw no more sense in that than you do, you know, but I +understood that in his crude, vulgar way he meant some sort of a +compliment.</p> + +<p>"Dash it, of course," I said offhand, straightening up and recrossing my +legs. I always say that and do that way when fellows say stupid things. +Such a jolly good way to keep from hurting their feelings, you know, and +saves talking and thinking. Got on to it myself.</p> + +<p>Billings' eye ranged at me as he lighted his pipe. The smoke seemed to +make him cough, and it was this, I suppose, that set him chuckling.</p> + +<p>He suddenly held up the row of red buttons again.</p> + +<p>"Look here, you blessed dodo," he exclaimed brusquely. "Have you really +no idea what these are, these glass buttons you are yapping about? Of +course you haven't, you jolly chowder head, but I'm going to tell you."</p> + +<p>He threw the coat into my lap.</p> + +<p>"They are rubies, old man, that's all," he said quietly. "Oriental +rubies, at that—flawless and perfect—the rarest and most precious +things in the world."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>AN AMAZING REVELATION</h3> + + +<p>I stared blankly at Billings. "Rubies!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Genuine pigeon bloods, my son, no less."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Billings," I protested. I felt a little miffed, just a +little you know. So jolly raw to try it on that way.</p> + +<p>"By jove, old chap, you must think me a common ass," I suggested +disgustedly.</p> + +<p>Billings grinned at the very idea.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> a common ass, Dicky?" he ejaculated. "Nobody who knows you would +ever think that, old man."</p> + +<p>"But, I say—"</p> + +<p>"See here, Dicky boy, I'm in dead earnest," he interrupted eagerly. +"Don't you remember my one fad—gems? Got enough tied up in them to +build two apartment houses as big as this. Best amateur collection in +New York, if I do say it. But I haven't anything like one of these +rubies, and neither has any one else—no one else in this country, +anyhow. There's nothing like them in all New York, from Tiffany's down +to Maiden Lane, and never has been. I never saw anything like—near +like any of them—except the one in the Russian crown of Anna Ivanovana. +That's bigger, but it hasn't the same fire."</p> + +<p>I just laughed at him. "Why, Billings, these pajamas were sent me by a +friend in China, and I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"Assure? What can you assure—what do <i>you</i> know about it?" said +Billings rudely. "What did your friend know, or the one he had these +things from—or the one before him—or the one still before that? +Pshaw!" And he snapped his fingers.</p> + +<p>With his hand he swept up the little caps and the long, wirelike threads +that held them and sniffed the handful curiously.</p> + +<p>"H'm! Funky sort of aromatic smell—balsam, cedar oil or something like +that," he muttered half aloud. "That accounts for the preservation. But +still—"</p> + +<p>He crossed his legs and puffed thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Tell you how I figure this out, Dicky," he said finally. "These +nighties your friend has sent you are awfully rare and old; and for +delicate, dainty elegance and that sort of thing they've got everything +else in the silk way shoved off the clothes-line. But as to these +jewels, you can just bet all you've got that whoever passed them on was +not wise to them being under these covers."</p> + +<p>Here he got to looking at one of the buttons and murmuring his +admiration—regular trance, you know.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I remarked, just to stir him up a bit. And he unloaded a +great funnel of smoke and continued:</p> + +<p>"My theory is that during some danger, some mandarins' war, likely, +somebody got cold feet about these jewels and roped them in with these +bits of silk—see how different they are from the rest of the stuff! +Then, when the roughhouse came, these pajamas were swept along in the +sacking—sort of spoils of pillage, you know. It was a clever method of +concealment—clever because simple—a hiding place unlikely to be +thought of because right under the eye. You recall Poe's story of <i>The +Purloined Letter</i>?"</p> + +<p>I tried to remember. "Can't say I do, dear boy," I had to admit. "Don't +seem to place that one. Only one I remember hearing him tell is that one +he brought back from Paris. Let me see—<i>The Story of the Lonely +Lobster</i>, I think he called it." I chortled delightedly as it came back +to me. "By Jove, that was devilish neat! Don't know when I've ever +heard—"</p> + +<p>An offensive remark by Billings interrupted me.</p> + +<p>"Here, Dicky, Dicky, what do you think you're talking about?" he added +rudely. Evidently his mind had wandered from the subject. So I replied +with dignity—dignity, with just a touch of sarcasm:</p> + +<p>"Pogue—'Mickey' Pogue of our club. Perhaps you don't know Mickey +Pogue?" And, by Jove, that fetched him! He stared at me a moment, and +then, getting up, he reached over and solemnly shook me by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Dicky," he said, wagging his head, "I apologize. You take the +<i>brioche</i>!" And he turned his back a second.</p> + +<p>I asked Billings how much he thought one of the rubies was worth. I had +in mind how devilish hungrily he had looked at them. But he sighed, then +frowned and answered impatiently:</p> + +<p>"That's it! That's the trouble about all the rare and beautiful things +of this life! Always some debasing, prohibitive sordid money value, +dammit!"</p> + +<p>He squinted at the stones again and let the weight of one rest upon his +finger. He shook his head, sighing.</p> + +<p>"Well, they're over twenty carats each, and therefore, of course, many +times the value of first water diamonds. After you get above five carats +with real Oriental rubies, diamonds are not in it."</p> + +<p>With an abrupt gesture he pushed the things away and rose. His pipe had +gone out, but I noticed that he did not relight it. I held the gems full +in the rays of the lamp, and Billings paused, holding a hungry gaze over +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I say, Billings, how much did you say one was worth?" I asked +carelessly. For a moment he did not reply, but muttered to himself.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say," he finally replied, and rather crossly. Then he whirled +on me impulsively. "See here, Lightnut," he exclaimed, "if you'll let me +have one of those for my collection, I'll give you twenty-five thousand +for it—there!"</p> + +<p>He gulped and continued:</p> + +<p>"I'll have to make some sacrifices, but I don't mind that. I—"</p> + +<p>But I shook my head. Really, I could hardly keep from laughing in his +face.</p> + + +<p>"Sorry! Can't see it, old chap," I said. "Wouldn't sell one of them at +any price."</p> + +<p>Billings gulped again. "I suppose not; don't blame you. Way you're +fixed, you don't have to." He walked slowly to the window and back. +"Take my advice, Dicky, and get those fire coals into your safe deposit +vault first thing in the morning. Hello, you're cutting them off! That's +wise."</p> + +<p>For with the knife he had left on the table I was cutting away the tough +threads that held the rubies. I cut off the second and fourth, leaving +the first ruby at the collar and the other two alternates.</p> + +<p>"Go on," said Billings, as I laid down the knife. "You've only removed +two."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe I'll cut off any more," I said. "Want you to help me tie +up the others just as they were."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>I insisted. And though Billings protested and argued and even called me +names, we did as I said.</p> + +<p>For, by Jove, you know it was perfectly clear that if they had been safe +so long under the little covers, the jewels couldn't find any better +place. Singular thing Billings couldn't see it. Besides, the pajamas +had to have fastenings, you know.</p> + +<p>I held one of the two rubies under the light, and, by Jove, I almost +dropped it—did drop my glass. Seeing a red-hot poker-point in your +fingers would give you the same turn.</p> + +<p>"Rippers, Billings! Simply rippers!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>I held the other ruby beside its fellow. Then I waited, listening, and I +heard Billings' hand strike down on the back of a chair.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll be going, old chap," he said gruffly. "Think I'd better, +after all." He cleared his throat. "Sure you can't sell me one, Dicky?" +Dashed if his voice didn't tremble.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure, dear boy," I murmured, without turning around. "Not mine, +you know—these two."</p> + +<p>Billings exploded then. It seemed an opportunity to relieve himself. +"Not yours! Why, you dod-gasted idiot, you nincompoop, you cuckoo, you +chicken head! What notion have you got in that fool's noddle now? If +those rubies are not yours, whose do you think they are?"</p> + +<p>I whirled about quickly. "Yours," I said, and laid them in his hand.</p> + +<p>"My compliments, old chap," I added, smiling. By Jove! One time, at +least, I put it all over old Billings!</p> + +<p>"No!" he gasped, crouching over and gripping my shoulder.</p> + +<p>I grinned cheerfully.</p> + +<p>He fell into a chair and just sat there mouthing at me and then at the +jewels in his hand. Old boy looked devilish silly. Really acted like he +had some sort of stroke—that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>I laughed at him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see?" I said, trying to explain. "Wouldn't have known a +dashed thing about the buttons being rubies but for you. So lucky they +came to me so I can get a chance to help out your collection. Awfully +glad, old chap."</p> + +<p>He clenched the jewels, and looked down.</p> + +<p>"Dicky—" He coughed a little huskily as he paused. "Dicky." His voice +was so low I could hardly hear him. "Dicky, you're off your trolley, and +I'm a damned—"</p> + +<p>He raised his arm and dropped it.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind what," he finished with a lift of the shoulders. "But +I want to say something. It's about what I offered you for those stones. +The price—the amount I named—wasn't even a decent gamble; but it was +all I could go, and oh, I wanted one so badly, Dicky! And now you've +made me feel like a dog. And I can't take your gift, old chap, any more +than I could afford to offer you the real value of one of these +beautiful stones. Here." And he passed them back to me.</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i> each of them to be worth anywhere from forty to fifty thousand +dollars," he said quietly. "They're the kind the crowned heads scoop for +jewels of state."</p> + +<p>I nodded, and, getting up carelessly, I strolled to a window.</p> + +<p>"Devilish lovely night," I said, poking my head out. And it was. Stars +overhead and all that sort of thing, and lots of them below, too—I +could hear them singing over on Broadway.</p> + +<p>"All right, old chap; then here they go into the street," I said. "If my +friend can't have 'em, then no jolly crowned heads shall. That's flat!"</p> + +<p>Billings started forward with a regular scream.</p> + +<p>I waved him back. "Don't come any nearer, old chap," I said, holding my +arm out of the window, "or, dash me, I'll drop them instantly. Six +stories, you know—stone flagging below."</p> + +<p>"But, Dicky—"</p> + +<p>"If you don't say you'll take 'em, time I count three, I'll give 'em a +toss, by Jove! One!"</p> + +<p>"Here, Dicky! Don't be a—"</p> + +<p>"Two!" I counted. No bluff, you know; I meant jolly well to do it.</p> + +<p>"Just one word—one second, Dicky!" he yelled. "Let me off with one, +then. Dicky! Dicky, old chap! Be a good sportsman!"</p> + +<p>I hesitated. Dash it, one hates to take an advantage.</p> + +<p>Billings stretched out his arm appealingly. "Do, old chap!" he pleaded. +"Give me just one—one only!"</p> + +<p>His hand shook like a quivering what's-its-name leaf.</p> + +<p>I yielded reluctantly: "Oh, well then, call it off with one," I said. +And with a sigh I tossed him one of the rubies and dropped the other in +the pocket of my smoking-jacket. Billings wiped his forehead, and then +he thanked me and wiped his eyes.</p> + +<p>"So good of you to give in, old chap," he snuffled. "Never will forget +you for it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, chuck it, you know!" I protested.</p> + +<p>"Whole family will thank you," he went on in his handkerchief. "Princely +magnanimity and all that sort of thing—you'll just <i>have</i> to come up +for the week end with me this—"</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i>!" I reached forward eagerly and insisted on shaking hands. By +Jove, what luck!</p> + +<p>And Billings looked regularly overcome. All he could do was just shake +his head and pump my arm. Why, dash it, this seemed to affect him more +even than giving in about the ruby. It was the first time I had ever +accepted his invitation, you know.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what, old chap," he said, as soon as he could speak. "I'm +going to tell you what to do with that other stone. You save that for +<i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>"Her!" By Jove, I was so startled I lost the grip on my monocle. +Billings nodded emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—for <i>her</i>; she'll be along one of these days."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you know!" I was almost dizzy with a sudden idea. I fished out +the jewel and held it before my glass, squinting doubtfully at it. I +wondered if it was <i>good</i> enough for "her."</p> + +<p>"I say, Billings," I murmured thoughtfully. "Blondes or brunettes, you +know—which wear rubies?"</p> + +<p>"Both!" He said it with a kind of jaw snap. "They wear anything in the +jewel line they can freeze on to."</p> + +<p>"But which—"</p> + +<p>"The worst? Blondes, my boy—blondes, every time; especially those going +around in black." Billings spoke gloomily. "Let me tell you, my boy—and +I <i>know</i>—don't you ever have anything to do with a blonde if she's in +<i>black</i>, especially black silk—hear?"</p> + +<p>By Jove, his uplifted finger and fierce way of saying it gave me a +regular turn, you know. But then there was the ruby, and I was thinking +that—</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the four of them in a bracelet," I muttered, "with something +else to help out. They <i>might</i> do."</p> + +<p>"They might," said Billings in a tone of coarse sarcasm. "They might do +for a queen!"</p> + +<p>I flashed a quick look at him. "Just what <i>I</i> was thinking," I answered +gently.</p> + +<p>"Meantime," said Billings, yawning, "let's go to bed."</p> + +<p>And just as I rang for Jenkins I suddenly was seized with a perfectly +ripping idea that checked a long yawn right in the middle and almost +broke my jaw. For I saw how I could do something handsome that would +even up with Billings in a way for the ruby he wouldn't take.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what, old chap," I said, slapping him on the shoulder, "<i>you</i> +are going to have them to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Have—have what?" burst from him. "Rubies? I tell you I won't take +another—"</p> + +<p>"Rubies!" I ejaculated contemptuously. "Rubies nothing! Something +better—something worth while, dash it!"</p> + +<p>I saw he would never guess it.</p> + +<p>"Why, you shall sleep in the pajamas from China," I exclaimed. And +gathering them, I placed them in his hands.</p> + +<p>"By George, Dicky!" Billings' face showed feeling. "How infernally +clever of you, old chap! How thundering timely, too!"</p> + +<p>He held them up singly, studying their outlines critically.</p> + +<p>"And see here, Dicky—why, great Thomas cats!" His eyes turned on me +wonderingly. "Never noticed it before—did you? But I do believe they +are just my size!"</p> + +<p>His size! By Jove, I had forgotten all about the item of size! I just +collapsed into a chair as he said good night, and sat there blinking in +a regular stupefaction of horror as his door closed behind him.</p> + +<p>For he was devilish sensitive about his bulk, and I dared not say a +word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>A NOCTURNAL INTRUSION</h3> + + +<p>"Oh, but I say, it's impossible, you know!" And I stared at Jenkins +incredulously.</p> + +<p>He grinned foolishly. "I know, sir; but he's in 'em, just the same, and +I must say they do fit lovely—just easy-like."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I gasped helplessly. "Then the jolly things must be made of +rubber, that's all! Why, look here, he weighs over three hundred pounds, +you know!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins' head wagged sagaciously. "I think that's how it is, sir; it's +wonderful what they do with rubber now; my brother wears a rubber cloth +bandage that ain't no bigger 'round than my arm when it's off of him, +and he—"</p> + +<p>"Dare say," I said sleepily as I fell back upon my pillow. "Good night, +Jenkins; hope you'll get enough sleep to make up for the other night."</p> + +<p>Jenkins sighed as he punched out the light. "Thank you, sir—and good +night," he murmured.</p> + +<p>How long I slept I can not tell, as they say in stories, you know; but I +was brought jolly wide awake by a light that shone through the +bedroom's open door. For if there's one thing will wake me quicker than +everything else it's a light in the room at night. Fact is, I always +want it as black as the what's-its-name cave, or else I can't sleep. And +this light came from the small electric stand on the writing-desk. I +could tell that by the way it shone.</p> + +<p>And just then the little silver gong in there chimed three. Jolly rum +hour for anybody to be up unless they were having some fun or were sick. +So I raised my head and called softly:</p> + +<p>"Jenkins—er—Billings!"</p> + +<p>No answer. Reluctantly I swung out and stepped within the next room. Not +a soul there, by Jove! Then I moved over to Billings' door, which was +wide open for coolness, like my own. I could not see the shadowed alcove +in which the bed was placed, and so I stood there hesitating, hating +awfully to risk the possibility of disturbing him, don't you know. And +just then my eyes, ranging sleepily across the room toward the private +hall, were startled by the apparition of an open doorway.</p> + +<p>Startled, all right! And yet, by Jove, I was in such a jolly fog, I just +stood there, nodding and batting at it for a full minute before I could +take it in.</p> + +<p>"What I call devilish queer," I decided. I walked over and stuck my head +out into the dark hall.</p> + +<p>"Billings! Jenkins!" I whispered.</p> + +<p>By Jove, not a word! Everything as silent as the tomb!</p> + +<p>I didn't like it a bit—so mysterious, you know. Besides, dash it, the +thing was getting me all waked up! I just knew if once I got excited and +thoroughly awake, it would take me nearly ten minutes to get to sleep +again. And, by Jove, just then the excitement came, for I got hold of +the fact after I had stared at it a while, that the door of my apartment +opening into the outer corridor was standing ajar. Why, dash it, it was +not only standing, it was moving. Then suddenly the broad streak of +light from the corridor widened under the impulse of a freshening +breeze, and the door swung open with a bang.</p> + +<p>And then I heard my name spoken.</p> + + +<p>By Jove, I had been standing there with my mouth open, bobbing my head +like a silly dodo; but, give you my word, I was suddenly wide awake as a +jolly owl wagon!</p> + +<p>Away down the corridor, by the mail chute, a man was standing, reading a +framed placard. Nothing particularly remarkable in this, but as the door +banged he turned his head sharply and ejaculated:</p> + +<p>"Dammit! Now, that will wake Lightnut!"</p> + +<p>I was surprised, because I couldn't recall ever having seen him before; +yet, standing as he did under the light, I had opportunity for a +devilish good view.</p> + +<p>He was a heavy set old party, rather baldish, with snowy mutton chops +and a beefy complexion that was jolly well tanned below the hatband +line, you know. The kind of old boy you size up as one of the prime +feeder sort and fond of looking on the wine when it is Oporto red. Had +something of the cut of the retired India colonels one sees about the +Service clubs in London—straight as a lamp post still, but out of +training and in devilish need of tapping—that sort of duck, you know!</p> + +<p>What a respectable-looking old party might be up to, wandering around a +bachelor apartment building at three in the morning, was none of my +business. What's more, you know, I didn't care a jolly hang. But the +thing that dashed me was that just as I moved toward the door to close +it, he uttered my name again and came straight toward me as though to +speak.</p> + +<p>So I had to wait, by Jove, for I couldn't close the door in his face. +Awfully rotten thing to do—that, you know.</p> + +<p>"Lost his floor and wants to inquire," I decided.</p> + +<p>And then as he toddled across the last yard and stopped before me, I saw +that the old chap was in his night things—some darkish sort of pajamas.</p> + +<p>His bushy white eyebrows puckered in a frown.</p> + +<p>"Hello! Just afraid my moving around was going to get you up—infernal +shame!" he said in a thunder growl.</p> + +<p>I smiled feebly but politely. "Devilish considerate old cock," was my +thought. "Means well."</p> + +<p>Aloud I said: "Not at all, you know. Up anyhow."</p> + +<p>Then I moved the door just a little—just a wee suggestive inch or two, +you know, hoping he would go.</p> + +<p>But, by Jove, he just walked right in!</p> + +<p>Then he leaned against the wall in the corridor and chuckled.</p> + +<p>"By George!" he exclaimed with a leer that showed his almost toothless +old gums. "Bet you never would guess what I got up for!"</p> + +<p>No, dash it, I didn't even care to try. I just coughed a little.</p> + +<p>"He, he!" he giggled. "Woke up and remembered had promised Flossie +Fandango of <i>The Parisian Broilers</i> a box of steamer flowers. Gad, she +sails at ten; so I piled out and shot off a note to my florist, special +delivery. Been trying to find out from that infernal card back there +when's the first collection from the box below. You don't know, do you?"</p> + +<p>By Jove, one of those foot-in-the-grave old stage-door Johnnies! The +surprise took my breath.</p> + +<p>"Why, the cheesy old sport!" I thought disgustedly. And I answered +rather coldly: "Sorry, you know; no idea." And I opened the door wide.</p> + +<p>But the old rascal never moved; just stood there, chuckling horribly.</p> + +<p>"Well, she'll be back in the fall," he cackled. "And see here, old chap, +will introduce you if you like. You need waking up!"</p> + +<p>And here I gave a jump and yelled "Ouch!"</p> + +<p>For the old fool had dug his thumb into my ribs. Only then did it dawn +on me that he was drunk. Of course that was it, and unless I got rid of +him the old bore would stand and twaddle the rest of the night. I +reached for his hand and shook it.</p> + +<p>"We'll have a talk about it some time," I said pleasantly. "Just now, +don't you think we'd better each get to bed? So devilish late, you +know."</p> + +<p>He slapped me on the shoulder with a blow that almost brought me to the +floor. Felt like he struck me with a ham, don't you know!</p> + +<p>"Right, old chap," he said; "very delicately put; won't keep you up +another minute. Believe I'd like a drink first, though, if you don't +mind."</p> + +<p>Devilish bored as I was, I decided the easiest escape was to humor him.</p> + +<p>"All right," I said, leaving the door open and stepping into the room; +"I'll get you a glass of water."</p> + +<p>"Water!" he exclaimed, following me right in. "Say, don't get funny; +it's not becoming to you." He leered at me hideously.</p> + +<p>He went right to the corner where stood my cellarette. By Jove, give you +my word I was so devilish stupefied I couldn't bring out a word. I +wasn't sure what was coming, and as I didn't want Billings' rest +disturbed, I quietly closed the door of his room.</p> + +<p>The old cock in the black pajamas had uncorked a bottle and was smelling +its contents. He grimaced over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"That's infernally rotten Scotch, I say!" he exclaimed with a sort of +snort. "Regular sell, by George!"</p> + +<p>I was glad Billings didn't hear him, for it had been a present from him +only the week before.</p> + +<p>"Suppose I'll have to go the rye," he grumbled; and, grinning at me +familiarly, he poured himself a drink. He tossed it off, neat. I +reflected that perhaps he would go quietly now.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, advancing, "I expect you're anxious to get to your +quarters, so I'll say good night." I extended my hand. "That ought to +fetch him," I thought, "if he's a gentleman, no matter how jolly corked +he may be."</p> + +<p>In my grasp his hand felt like a small boxing glove, but when I glanced +at it I saw that it was not unusual.</p> + +<p>The old duck pumped my arm solemnly and cast his eyes to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Fa-are-we-e-ll, old f-friend!" he murmured in a husky tremolo, +deflecting the corners of his mouth and wagging his bald pate. "If I +don't see you again I'll have the river dragged!"</p> + +<p>And then, instead of going, dash me if the old fool didn't flop down +into Billings' favorite chair and reach for Billings' cigarettes that he +had left on the tabouret.</p> + +<p>He waved his hand at me. "Oh, you go on to bed, Lightnut," he said, +puffing away with iron nerve. "All the sleep's out of me, dammit! I'll +just sit here and read and smoke as long as I like, then I'll go in +there and turn in." A jerk of his doddering head indicated Billings' +room.</p> + +<p>By Jove, I hardly knew what to do! I was regularly bowled over, don't +you know. I was up against a crisis—that's what—a crisis.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know—" I started remonstrating, and just then I gasped +with relief at the welcome sight of Jenkins, peeking round the +door-frame behind my visitor's back. His finger was on his lips and he +beckoned me earnestly.</p> + +<p>At the same moment old whiskers shoved his chair up to the table, +switched on the reading-lamp and reached for a magazine.</p> + +<p>"I'm on, sir," whispered Jenkins, as I joined him and we stepped aside. +"Hadn't I better ring up the janitor on my house 'phone?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, the very thing!" I agreed. "For he'll know where this chap +belongs. A fiver, tell him, if he gets a move on. Hurry!"</p> + +<p>I slipped back into the room as Jenkins disappeared. The jolly old +barnacle had discarded his cigarette and was critically selecting a +cigar from my humidor.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why the devil you don't go to bed," he said, fixing himself +comfortably with two chairs and lighting up.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm not sleepy," I stammered, perching on the corner of a chair.</p> + +<p>"I believe you're lying," he growled, scowling at me; "but if you're +not sleepy, listen to this joke here—it's a chestnut, but it's +infernally good."</p> + +<p>I never did know what the joke was, for I was listening for other sounds +as he read. Suddenly I heard a whistle far down in the street; and I +thought it was followed by a patter of running feet.</p> + +<p>Then came the quivering rhythm of the elevator rapidly ascending, and +while the anecdote was still being droned out between chuckles, I +slipped out again into the hall and rejoined Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"Janitor says there's no such tenant in this building as I described," +Jenkins imparted hurriedly. "Might be a guest, of course; but he doesn't +remember ever seeing him. So he whistled for a cop, to be on the safe +side, and caught two. Here they are, sir."</p> + +<p>Out from the elevator sprang the janitor, half-dressed and looking +excited. Close on his heels came two big policemen.</p> + +<p>I stepped into the outer corridor and explained the situation. The +officers nodded reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"'Nough said," one of them commented. "We'll have him out, sir."</p> + +<p>The janitor, who had been cautiously sighting through the door within, +came running out.</p> + +<p>"He shifted around while I was looking, and I got a good look at him," +he said with some excitement, "and I never saw him before. I wouldn't +forget <i>that</i> mug!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you take a squint at him yourself, O'Keefe," suggested the +taller of the coppers. "You've been on this beat so long."</p> + +<p>In a minute or two O'Keefe came slipping back hurriedly. He drew his +companion aside.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what, Tim," I heard him say, "do you know, I'm after thinking +it looks like old Braxton, known in the perfesh as 'Foxy Grandpa.' He's +a swell con man, but has just finished a stretch at Copper John's for +going through a flat in the Bronx. He's done murder once."</p> + +<p>The other turned to me.</p> + +<p>"May save a muss in your rooms if you'll just kinder call him out, sir," +he suggested. "It will be simpler." He grinned significantly and glanced +at his night stick.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I ejaculated, looking at Jenkins. "By Jove, you know!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins coughed. "Just say you want to speak to him a minute, sir," he +said. "They'll do the rest—h'm!"</p> + +<p>They all followed me into the hall, and I stepped to the doorway. And +then I almost pitched forward, I was so devilish startled.</p> + +<p>For, as a crowning example of his daring and reckless conduct, the hoary +old reprobate was emerging from Billings' room, his fingers overhauling +the contents of my friend's wallet, even as he waddled along, and so +absorbed that he never even saw me.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he breathed in a heavy sigh of satisfaction; and out came his +fingers, and in them, poised aloft, he held the ruby I had given to +Billings. His bleary eyes gloated at it.</p> + +<p>"Mine!" he whispered. "Mine now to keep forever!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>IRON NERVE</h3> + + +<p>I just stood in the doorway, staring. Couldn't say a word, my throat was +that paralyzed. First time, you know, I'd ever seen a real burglar or +jolly hold-up man, and he looked so different from what I had expected.</p> + +<p>But I knew now, of course, that the policeman was right and that the +respectable-looking old gentleman was no other than the desperate +criminal described as "Foxy Grandpa." But for the intervention of +outside assistance doubtless Billings and I might have had our throats +cut by the conscienceless old geezer.</p> + +<p>He was so absorbed that he did not see me, nor the two helmets piking +above my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Up to his old tricks," O'Keefe whispered. "We've got him in the act, +Tim!"</p> + +<p>"Great!" breathed Tim. "What won't the captain say!"</p> + +<p>O'Keefe's breath tickled my ear again and swept my nose. I've never seen +beer or sauerkraut since but what I think of it!</p> + +<p>"Got your stick ready?" he was saying. "Best not take any chances; +Braxton's a quick shooter, they say. When we jump him, better give him +the club right off."</p> + +<p>Tim whispered an impatient demur. "That's all right; but I'm for coaxing +him out here first. I don't want to tap him on the gentleman's rugs; if +I do, I can tell you, it'll ruin 'em, that's all."</p> + +<p>He swept his hand across his tongue and gripped his stick tighter.</p> + +<p>Jenkins, at one side, bobbed his head up and down and smiled his +admiration of this sentiment. He leaned nearer to me.</p> + +<p>"Just beckon him out, sir," his whisper advised. "Just tell him you want +to show him something in the hall—cat, or anything will do. Just so you +get him past the furniture and rugs, sir."</p> + +<p>I advanced a step into the room. I expected the old knave to be a bit +dashed, don't you know. Not he; it never disquieted him a bit. Just gave +me a careless leer and went back to the ruby. Somehow I began to feel +riled. I'm not often taken that way, but this old scamp's persistent +audacity and impudence went beyond anything I had ever heard of.</p> + +<p>"What in thunder's the matter with you, son?" he murmured, squinting +hideously at the jewel. "You prowl around like you had a pain." Then he +went right on:</p> + +<p>"Say, did you ever see anything so corking fine?" He looked up, holding +the ruby in the light. "And to think how little I dreamed of scooping +anything like that when I came in here to-night!"</p> + +<p>By Jove, this was a little too much, even for an easy-going chap like +myself! The jolly worm will turn, you know.</p> + +<p>Dash me, before I knew what I was doing even, I had moved to his side +and jerked the ruby from his hand. My face felt like a hot-water bottle +as I did it.</p> + +<p>"You haven't got it yet," I said, "and I'll take devilish good care you +don't get it."</p> + +<p>He fell back as though from a blow.</p> + +<p>"Why—why, old chap! Why, Lightnut!" he gasped. "What's the matter—what +makes you look at me like that?"</p> + +<p>"Your liberties have gone just a bit too far, don't you know," I said, +looking steadily in his fishy old eye. "I've had enough of you, by Jove, +that's all!"</p> + +<p>He stared at me, and I could hear him breathing like a blacksmith's +bellows. I would never have thought he had such lungs.</p> + +<p>Slowly his hand came out, and dash me if it wasn't shaking like he had +the delirium what's-its-name. But for his tan, his face would have been +as white as his hypocritical old whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Is this some infernal joke?" His face summoned a sickly smile that +almost instantly faded. His hand fell back to his side. "Why, old +fellow, you don't think that way about me, do you? As for the ruby, I—I +don't want it now—I just want you to accept my apology for anything +I've done, and—and let me get away."</p> + +<p>There was a short laugh from the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Likely enough," said Officer O'Keefe, his big figure swinging forward +with long strides. "Keep him covered, Tim!"</p> + +<p>He planted himself between us with a grin.</p> + +<p>"You're 'it' again, Foxy! Jig's up. Will you go quietly?"</p> + +<p>It did me good to see how completely the old scoundrel was taken back. +His wide distended bleary eyes shifted from O'Keefe to me and back +again. It was a perfect surprise.</p> + +<p>I motioned to Jenkins to close the door of my friend's bedroom. So far, +he had evidently slept serenely through all the trouble, and, if +possible, I wanted to avoid arousing him now. For a fat man, Billings +had the deuce of a temper when stirred up over anything like an +imposition upon him, and it would only add to the confusion for him to +appear on the scene and learn about his wallet and his treasured ruby +that I had rescued.</p> + +<p>Foxy Grandpa's face had been rapidly undergoing a change. From pallor to +pink it went; and then from pink to red. Now it was becoming scarlet. He +threw his head back and faced me angrily.</p> + +<p>"Lightnut, will you tell me what the hell this means?" And his heavy +voice thundered.</p> + +<p>"Here! Here! That'll be enough o' that," cried Officer O'Keefe sharply. +"None of your grand-stand play here, or it'll be the worse for you. And +no tricks, Braxton, or—"</p> + +<p>He clutched his stick menacingly.</p> + +<p>"Braxton!" snorted the old fellow. "Why, you born fool, my name's not +Braxton!"</p> + +<p>"Not now," grinned O'Keefe. "Say, what <i>is</i> your name now, Foxy?"</p> + +<p>"My name—" roared Foxy Grandpa, and paused abruptly. He looked rather +blankly from one officer to the other.</p> + +<p>"See here; do I understand I'm under arrest?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"You certainly are talking, Foxy," chuckled O'Keefe.</p> + +<p>"Then my name's Doe—John Doe," and I thought the fellow's quick glance +at me held an appeal. Of what sort, I had no idea.</p> + +<p>"And what, may I ask, is the charge?" he asked again, with what was +apparently a great effort at calmness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Braxton," said the officer in a tone of disgust, "stop +your foolery; you're just using up time. Ain't it enough that you're in +this building and in this gentleman's rooms?"</p> + +<p>"In his rooms!" exploded Foxy Grandpa. "Why, you lunkhead, this +gentleman will tell you I am his guest!" He turned to me with a sort of +angry laugh.</p> + +<p>"Tell him, Lightnut," he rasped. "I've had enough of this!"</p> + +<p>The big policeman's features expanded in a grin, while Tim doubled +forward an instant, his blue girth wabbling with internal appreciation +of the Foxy one's facetiousness; and the janitor snickered.</p> + +<p>Jenkins looked shocked. As for me, dash it, I never so wished for my +monocle, don't you know!</p> + +<p>O'Keefe's head angled a little to give me the benefit of a surreptitious +wink.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," he said, his voice affecting a fine sarcasm; "if the +gentleman says you're his <i>friend</i>—"</p> + +<p>"He's no friend of mine," I proclaimed indignantly. "Never saw him +before in my life."</p> + +<p>Instead of being confounded, the artful old villain fell back with a +great air of astonishment and dismay. By Jove, he managed to turn fairly +purple.</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-t's that?" he gasped stranglingly and clutching at the collar of +his pajamas. "Say that again, Dicky."</p> + +<p>I looked at him severely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, don't call me 'Dicky,' either," I remonstrated quietly. +"It's a name I only like to hear my intimate friends use."</p> + +<p>He kind of caught the back of a chair and glared wildly at me from under +his bushy wintry eyebrows. The beefy rolls of his lower jaw actually +trembled.</p> + +<p>"Don't you—haven't you always classed me as that, Dic—er—Lightnut?" +he sort of whispered.</p> + +<p>By Jove, the effrontery of such acting fairly disgusted me. I looked him +over from head to foot with measured contempt. "I don't know you at +all," I said coldly, turning away.</p> + +<p>"Ye gods!" he wheezed, clutching at his grizzled hair.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>I SEND A MAN TO JAIL</h3> + + +<p>The two policemen shifted impatiently.</p> + +<p>"That'll about do, Foxy," growled O'Keefe. "It's entertaining, but +enough of a thing—"</p> + +<p>But the old duffer caught his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" he panted. "One second—wait—just one second!"</p> + +<p>He looked at Jenkins and ducked his neck forward, swallowing hard.</p> + +<p>"Jenkins," he said with a sickly smile. "You—you see how it is with +Lightnut—poor fellow! None of us ever thought he would go off that bad +though. But, as it is, I guess you're the one now who will have to set +me right with these people. You'll have to stand for me."</p> + +<p>Jenkins looked alarmed. He addressed the officers eagerly:</p> + +<p>"S'help me," he cried, his glance impaling the prisoner with scorn, "I +never see this party before in the ten years I been in New York!"</p> + +<p>Did that settle the fellow? By Jove, not a bit; his jolly nerve seemed +inexhaustible!</p> + +<p>He blinked a little; and then with a roar he jumped for Jenkins, but +O'Keefe shoved him back. Panting and struggling between the two +officers, and fairly at bay at last, the desperate old man seemed to +determine one last bluff, don't you know, and with the janitor.</p> + +<p>"Here, you," he bellowed, as the man dodged behind Jenkins. "You have +seen me come in this building often! Tell 'em so, or I'll kill you!"</p> + +<p>The little man turned pale, but came up pluckily.</p> + +<p>"If—if I had," he stammered, "you never would have come in again, if I +knew as much about you as I do now. I assure you, gents, I never laid +eyes on this man before."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be—"</p> + +<p>He broke off and seemed to fall out of the grasp of the men backward +into a big chair. Couldn't quit his jolly acting, it was clear to me, +even when he had played his last card.</p> + +<p>"Is everybody crazy, or am I?" he said, brushing his hand across his +forehead; and dashed if the perspiration didn't stand on it in big +drops, clear up into his old bald pate.</p> + +<p>"See here," he broke out again, addressing O'Keefe, "send for somebody +else in this building; send for—" He seemed to deliberate.</p> + +<p>The policeman laughed derisively.</p> + +<p>"Likely we'll be hauling people out of bed at this hour, isn't it," he +sneered, "just to let you keep up this fool's game!" He leveled his +stick menacingly. "Now, looky here, Braxton!" he exclaimed sternly.</p> + +<p>"I'm being easy with you because you're a gray-headed old man, but—"</p> + +<p>By Jove, it was plain he had struck a sensitive point!</p> + +<p>"Gray-headed old man!" shouted the fellow, coming out of the chair like +a rubber ball, and pointing to his reflection in the long mirror. "Does +that look like gray hair—that red topknot? It'll <i>be</i> gray, though, if +this infernal craziness goes on much longer—I'll say that much!" And +back he flopped into the chair.</p> + +<p>The two officers exchanged glances, and, by Jove, they looked ugly!</p> + +<p>"Call for the wagon, Tim," said O'Keefe shortly, indicating the 'phone. +"The fool's going to give trouble. Kahoka Apartments, tell them. Hurry; +let's get him to the street."</p> + +<p>He made a dive at the figure in the chair and jerked him forward.</p> + +<p>But his grip seemed to slip and he only moved his prisoner a few inches. +He tried again with about the same result.</p> + +<p>"Get a move on, Tim," he said pantingly. "He's bigger, somehow, than he +looks, and awful heavy; it'll take both of us. Get up, Braxton, unless +you want the club!"</p> + +<p>The man settled solidly in the depths of the chair.</p> + +<p>"Club and be hanged!" he replied with a snap of his jaw. "I won't go in +any dirty police wagon—that's flat! You may take me in a hearse first. +Get a cab or a taxi, if I have to go with you!"</p> + +<p>"Gamey old sport, anyhow, by Jove!" I thought with sudden admiration. +Couldn't help it, dash it! Heart just went out to him, somehow.</p> + +<p>I gently interposed as O'Keefe prepared to lunge again.</p> + +<p>"I'll stand the cab for him, officer," I said with a smile, "if your +rules, don't you know, or whatever it is, will allow."</p> + +<p>I added in a lowered voice:</p> + +<p>"Makes it devilish easier for you, don't you know, and avoids such a +jolly row. And—er—I want to ask you and your friend to accept from me +a little token of my appreciation."</p> + +<p>The policeman exchanged a glance with Tim and considered.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he said, "as to the cab, of course if you're a mind to want +to do that, it's your own affair."</p> + +<p>He turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Just cancel that, Tim," he directed. "Call a four-wheeler."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Lightnut," put in the old man gratefully. "You <i>have</i> got a +grain of decency left, by George, after all!"</p> + +<p>Meantime, Jenkins was answering my inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe, sir, you have a bit of cash in the house. You told me +so when you were retiring."</p> + +<p>By Jove, I remembered now! The poker game in the evening!</p> + +<p>I was wondering whether they could use a check, when I spied Billings' +wallet on the table.</p> + +<p>The very thing, by Jove!</p> + +<p>Examination showed, first thing, a wad of yellow-backs, fresh from the +bank. I peeled off two and pushed them into the officer's hand.</p> + +<p>"This belongs to a friend of mine," I remarked; "but it's just the same +as my own, don't you know, and he won't mind. Dash it, we're just like +brothers!"</p> + +<p>A howl of maniacal laughter from the old fool in the chair startled us +both.</p> + +<p>"Regular Damon and Pythias, damn it!" he gabbled, grinning with hideous +face contortions. "One for all, and all for one! And just help yourself; +don't mind me. Why—<i>hell</i>!"</p> + +<p>O'Keefe prodded him sharply in the shoulder with his night stick.</p> + +<p>"Stop your skylarking now, Foxy," he admonished angrily, "and come on. +Here the gentleman's gone and put up his money for a cab for you and you +ought to want to get out of his way so he can rest."</p> + +<p>"He's sure been kind to you," supplemented Tim, whose eye had noted the +passing of the yellow boys.</p> + +<p>"Kind!" mocked the old geezer, showing his scattered teeth in a horrible +grin. "Why, he's a lu-lu, a regular Samaritan!"</p> + +<p>"No names!" warned O'Keefe, slightly lifting his night stick. "Come on +to the street—you seem to forget you're under arrest."</p> + +<p>He added hastily:</p> + +<p>"And I ought to have warned you that anything you may say, Foxy—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you go to—Brooklyn!" snarled Foxy. "For two pins I'd knock your +block off, you fat-headed Irish fool! Think I'm going down to the +sidewalk without my clothes?"</p> + +<p>"Are your clothes somewhere in this building?" I asked with some +sympathy.</p> + +<p>He whirled on me sneeringly and jeered like a jolly screech owl:</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; not exactly <i>in</i> the building—they're on the flagpole on the +roof, of course! He-he-he! Bloody good joke, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>I sat on the edge of the table wearily; and, catching the policeman's +eye, shrugged my shoulders significantly.</p> + +<p>"You're right, sir," he said apologetically. "We won't fool a second +longer. Here, you take that side, Tim. Let's pull!"</p> + +<p>And they did pull, but, by Jove, they couldn't raise him.</p> + +<p>"Queerest go I ever see," Tim gasped. "He ain't holding on to nothing, +is he? And, O'Keefe, he <i>feels big</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, it's not that," the other panted; "it's just the way he's +sitting. Why, you can <i>see</i> he ain't so very big." He nodded to Jenkins +and the janitor. "Here, you two! Help us, can't you?"</p> + +<p>And with one mighty, united heave, they brought the loudly protesting +old man to his feet and held him there. O'Keefe faced me.</p> + +<p>"Might be well to take a look around, sir, and see if you think of +anything else he's stolen, before we take him off."</p> + +<p>"Good idea, Lightnut!" Old Braxton stopped struggling and whirled his +head toward me, his face almost black with rage. "Ha, ha! Why don't you +have me searched? There's not a pocket in these damn pajamas!"</p> + +<p>"Anything whatever, sir, we'll have him leave behind," said O'Keefe.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I don't know how I ever managed to say it. Fact is, things +had just suddenly spun round before me like a merry what's-its-name. For +I <i>did</i> recognize something! The old fellow's unabashed reference to +pajamas was what brought it to my attention.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" O'Keefe nodded. "There <i>is</i> something! Just say the word, sir."</p> + +<p>I looked helplessly at Jenkins, and then I saw that of a sudden he +recognized them, too. His eyes rolled at me understandingly.</p> + +<p>"What is it, sir?" demanded O'Keefe respectfully. "The law requires—"</p> + +<p>I swallowed hard. "It—it's the pajamas," I said faintly.</p> + +<p>The old rascal uttered a roar and tried to get at me.</p> + +<p>"You cold-blooded scoundrel!" he bellowed. "So this is why—"</p> + +<p>But here a jab of the night stick took him in the side with a sound like +a blow on a punching bag. Words left the old man and he gasped +desperately for breath. O'Keefe tried to shake him.</p> + +<p>"Did you get those pajamas in here?" he demanded fiercely, and he drew +back his stick as though for another jab. But the old geezer nodded +quickly, glaring at me and trying to wheeze something.</p> + +<p>"That's enough," said the officer. He turned to me. "You recognize them, +do you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I—I think so," I stammered, looking at Jenkins, who nodded. "They +belong to a friend of mine who—a—must have left them here."</p> + +<p>"I see." He fished out a note-book. "Mind giving me the name, sir? Just +a matter of form, you know—" He licked his pencil expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know—" I gasped at Jenkins. "I don't think she—I—"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, sir," affirmed Jenkins, solemnly looking upward.</p> + +<p>"She?" The note-book slowly closed, then with the pencil went back into +the officer's pocket. "Excuse <i>me</i>, sir. H'm!"</p> + +<p>"H'm!" echoed Tim apologetically. Then they both glared at Foxy.</p> + +<p>The old man just snarled at them. He was like a dog at bay.</p> + +<p>"All right!" he hissed. "You just try to take them off—I'll kill +somebody, that's all. Think I'm going to make a spectacle of myself?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins whispered to me.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," I said aloud. "He might as well wear them now to the +station. Just so he returns them when he gets his clothes."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," said O'Keefe, relieved. "We'll see he does that. Come +along now, Braxton—<i>shut</i> up, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>And with all four of them behind the charge, they managed to rush the +loudly protesting old man to the door.</p> + +<p>"I <i>won't</i> go without my clothes, I tell you," he raged.</p> + +<p>But he did. Fighting, swearing and protesting, the jolly old vagabond +was roughly bundled into the elevator.</p> + +<p>"Good night, sir," called O'Keefe as the four of them dropped downward. +"We'll let you know if it seems necessary to trouble you."</p> + +<p>Once again inside, Jenkins and I just stared at each other without a +word, we were that tired and disgusted. To me, the only dashed crumb of +comfort in the whole business was the wonderful fact that Billings +seemed to have slept like a jolly Rip through the whole beastly row.</p> + +<p>Very softly I opened his door again, so that the breeze flowed through +once more. Jenkins put out the lights, and I stood there listening, but +could hear no sound within the room, for the street below was already +heralding the clamor of the coming day.</p> + +<p>Jenkins' whisper brushed my ear as I moved away:</p> + +<p>"Sleeping like a baby, ain't he, sir?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>FRANCES</h3> + + +<p>By Jove, it seemed to me I had been asleep about a minute when I saw the +sunlight splashing through the blinds.</p> + +<p>Jenkins stood beside me with something in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Didn't hear me, did you, sir?" he was asking. "I said I thought the +address looked like Mr. Billings' handwriting. And he's gone, sir."</p> + +<p>"Gone?"</p> + +<p>I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had a befogged notion that +Jenkins looked a little queer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. He's not in his room, nor in the apartment anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Eh—how—what's that?" For Jenkins' hand extended an envelope.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would like to read this now, sir."</p> + +<p>It was from Billings—I knew his fist in an instant. It was very short +and without heading. In fact, above his name appeared just a half-dozen +penciled words, heavily underscored, and without punctuation:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Damn you send me my clothes</p></blockquote> + +<p>"His clothes?" I looked perplexedly at Jenkins.</p> + +<p>He was looking a little pale and held his eyes fixedly to the picture +molding across the room. He coughed gently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he uttered faintly; "they're in his room, but <i>he</i> ain't."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I remarked helplessly. And just then I remembered something +that brought me wide awake in an instant.</p> + +<p>I questioned eagerly:</p> + +<p>"I say—that desk lamp in there, Jenkins—did you switch it on in the +night? And the doors I found open—know anything about them?" And +Jenkins' blank expression was the reply.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Jenkins!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>Jenkins compressed his lips. "Exactly, sir."</p> + +<p>"Er—what were you thinking, Jenkins?" I questioned desperately. And I +think Jenkins' stolidity wavered before my anxious face.</p> + +<p>"It ain't for me to be thinking anything, sir—besides, the messenger's +waiting—but—" His hand sought his pocket.</p> + +<p>He stepped back, leaving something on the stand by my bed.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" I questioned in alarm. "Another note?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir—not exactly, sir. But if I may suggest—without offense, +sir—that you fill it out, I will see that it gets to him."</p> + +<p>"Him? Who's him—he, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Doctor Splasher, sir, the temperance party I was speaking of. I've +already filled out mine, and I'm going to put one in for Mr. Billings +when I send the clothes." From the doorway he turned a woebegone +countenance toward me. "It's heartrending, sir—if I may be permitted to +say so—to think of a nice gentleman like Mr. Billings wandering over to +the club with nothing on but red pajamas."</p> + +<p>But when I telephoned they stated that Mr. Billings had not been at the +club since last evening. Some one who answered the 'phone thought Mr. +Billings was with his friend, Mr. Lightnut, in the Kahoka Apartments. +And, of course, I knew jolly well he was not.</p> + +<p>As I turned from the telephone, something in Jenkins' expression +arrested my attention.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I said impatiently, for he has so many devilishly clever +inspirations, you know; and, dash it, I like to encourage him.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, sir, but don't you think—" Here he looked straight up at the +electrolier and coughed. "About Mr. Billings, sir; I was going to +suggest that though he isn't over at the club, he's <i>somewhere</i>, sir."</p> + +<p>Why, dash it, I thought <i>that</i> jolly likely, myself! I said so.</p> + + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Jenkins darkly. "And Mr. Billings usually knows <i>where</i> +he is. I guess, sir, he's in this neighborhood—h'm!"</p> + +<p>I just sat staring at him a minute, thinking what a devilish wonderful +thing intuition is for the lower classes.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Jenkins!" I said; "then you think—"</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Billings, sir, might prefer to find himself—h'm! Yes, +sir." Jenkins lifted the breakfast tray with deliberation, removed it +from the room, and returned, moving about the furniture and busying +himself with an air of mystery. Dash it, I knew he had up his sleeve +some other devilish clever notion, and so presently I spoke up just to +touch him off.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Jenkins rested the end of the crumb brush on the table and +considered me earnestly. "You know, Mr. Lightnut, last night as Mr. +Billings was retiring, he says to me: 'Jenkins, Mr. Lightnut has +promised to go up home with me to-morrow for the week end. There's a +tenner coming your way if he doesn't forget about it. He's to go +<i>to-morrow</i>, now, mind you, Jenkins; and it don't matter <i>what</i> comes +up. <i>You</i> see that he goes up to-morrow.'"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said as he paused, and I screwed my monocle tighter and +nodded. "I see."</p> + +<p>Of course I didn't see, but I knew the poor fellow was driving at +something, and I wanted to give him a run.</p> + +<p>"Exactly, sir." And he stood waiting. "So, shall I pack, sir? You'll +want to take the four-ten express, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>By Jove, it was the most amazingly, dashed clever guess I ever knew +Jenkins to get off! Fact! I knew that if there was one thing more than +another in all the world that I wanted to do, it was to take that +four-ten express. To think of seeing Frances again, and <i>to-day</i>!</p> + +<p>Of course, it was quite clear that Billings must have anticipated the +possibility of something unusual, and that was why he had impressed a +sort of personal responsibility upon Jenkins—kind of tipping him off, +as it were, so he would be sure to see that I got off in case he did not +show up himself. It was very easy to see this, especially as Jenkins saw +it that way, too, but what made it specially so awfully jolly easy to +see was the fact that I <i>wanted</i> to go, you know.</p> + +<p>So I let Jenkins shoot a wire up to Billings, stating my train, and I +just had to chuckle as in my mind's eye I saw old brazen face Jack +coming down to the station to meet me, and just ignoring his going off +in the middle of the night in my pajamas. By Jove, perhaps he would +bring <i>her</i> down to the train in his car, so I would be sure not to ask +him any questions!</p> + +<p>I left Jenkins to travel by a later train, and a little after four I was +whirling above Spuyten Duyvil and looking about the chair-car to see if +there was any one I knew. But, by Jove, there was hardly a soul in the +car—nobody except just women, you know, and these filled the whole +place. And they were talking about all sorts of dashed silly things. +Most of them were devilish pretty as the word goes, but, of course, not +a patch on <i>her</i>. Oh, well, of course, they <i>couldn't</i> be that! Don't +know how they were behind me, you know—too much trouble to turn round +and fix my glass. So I just took the range in front, looking at the tops +of the hats and the chairs and wondering if women would ever become +extinct like that bird—the great what's-its-name, you know.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, <i>she</i> could be spared!" I thought, studying a young woman who +stood in the aisle beside me. She was rather heavy set—what you might +call egg-shaped. Her face and her heavy glasses seemed to proclaim a +mission in life, and the dowdyish cut of her rig and the reckless way it +was hurled on made it plain that she was on to the fact that nature had +made a blunder in her sex, and she wanted the world to <i>know</i> she knew.</p> + +<p>She was talking to the lady immediately behind me. At least, I +discovered after five minutes that she was talking. By Jove, up to that +time, I thought she was canvassing for a book! The other never got in a +word, don't you know. And I was getting devilish tired of it and wishing +she would move on, when she shifted, preparatory to doing so, and raised +her voice:</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, if you don't care to come, I think I will go forward +again and finish the discussion with Doctor Jennie Newman upon the +metamorphoses of the primordial protoplasms. Watch out for Tarrytown +now, Frances."</p> + +<p>Tarrytown! Frances! By Jove, my heart skipped a beat!</p> + +<p>The other murmured something.</p> + +<p>Her voice! Her blessed, sweet voice, of which every syllable, every +shade, was indented in my memory like the record of a what's-its-name! +By Jove, my Frances, and right behind me!</p> + +<p>All I could do to sit still a minute longer, but I knew jolly well if I +turned now I would be introduced to the freak and lose I couldn't tell +how many precious moments with my dear one. So I sat low in the chair, +polishing my monocle, you know, and noting with satisfaction that my +part reflected all right in the little strip of mirror. I tried to get a +glimpse of her in it, too, but all I could see was a glorious white +hat—a stunning Neapolitan, flanked with a sheaf of wild ostrich plumes.</p> + +<p>And then the freak left. I watched her spraddle down the aisle and out +through the little corridor before I dared risk the accident of a +backward turn of that funny green hat.</p> + +<p>Then, when all was safe, I took a deep breath, gripped hard the arms of +the chair, and whirled suddenly around.</p> + +<p>"Frances!" I whispered. "My darling!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>"YOU NEVER SAW ME IN BLACK"</h3> + + +<p>"Oh!" she gasped faintly.</p> + +<p>That was all she said at first, her big blue eyes wide distended, her +white-gloved wrists curving above the chair-arms as though to rise. Easy +to see she was completely floored at seeing me.</p> + +<p>And as it was her move, I just sat kind of grinning, you know, and +holding her tight with my monocle.</p> + +<p>Then her mouth twitched a bit; next her head went up and I heard again +that delicious birdlike carol of a laugh. Her eyes came to rest upon the +hat in my hand. I had slipped my Harvard band around it, remembering the +admiration she had expressed for our colors.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said again, and she looked at me hesitatingly. "Mr. Jones, is +it not—or is it—"</p> + +<p>I chuckled. "Mr. Smith, you know," I said. "Mr. Smith, of course."</p> + +<p>And then I just went on chuckling, for I thought it so devilish clever +of her, so humorous. And just then I thought of a dashed good repartee:</p> + +<p>"Months—so many months, you know, since we met!" And I thought it +delightful the way she puckered her lovely little forehead and looked me +over. But she just looked so devilish enticing, I couldn't keep it up +myself. I leaned nearer and spoke behind my hat, trying to look the love +I felt.</p> + +<p>"Didn't expect to see me, did you?"</p> + +<p>She looked at me oddly and bit her lip. But her eyes were dancing and +the delicious dimple in her cheek twitched on the verge of laughter. She +shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did not." And again came that odd look in her face as though +she were studying, kind of balking, don't you know. By Jove, she was +perfectly dazzling!</p> + +<p>"My dearest!" slipped softly from me as I held the hat.</p> + +<p>She stared. Then once more that canary peal of merriment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" Then her face sobered and she almost pouted. "Now you +mustn't—please, <i>really</i>—it gets so tiresome. Don't you American, or +rather, you Harvard men, ever talk anything to a girl but love? Why, +it's absurd." She smiled, but her lashes dropped reproof. By Jove, I was +taken back a little! Evidently she was piqued with me about something, +but what the devil was it? And then I thought I had it.</p> + +<p>I slipped nearer—to the edge of the chair.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were in town to-day—'pon honor, I didn't. Billings +never said a word about it," I explained. "Why, dash it, I would have +given <i>anything</i> to have known."</p> + +<p>She looked at me with a queer little smile, stroked her little lip with +the point of one gloved finger and looked across the river at the +Palisades. Dash the Palisades! Never could see any sense in them, +anyhow!</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, but Elizabeth and I didn't know ourselves until last +evening that we would make the New York trip. She wanted to hear a +suffragette lecture at the Carnegie, and I had some shopping to do."</p> + +<p>And she just gave me one of those calm, self-contained, thoroughbred +sort of smiles that are harder to get past than a six-foot hedge. What +the deuce <i>was</i> the matter with the girl? Something had changed her; yet +I knew that nothing could really change her at heart—never.</p> + +<p>But it was certain that she was put out about something. I would just +have to play her easy and try to find out what it was. I remembered +hearing Pugsley say—and he has had no end of experience with them—that +when women are put out they expect you to find out what it is, no matter +how devilishly improbable or unreasonable it may be.</p> + +<p>And just then I remembered another clever idea of Pugsley's—what he +said was a corking good way of diverting their minds.</p> + +<p>"I say, you know," I said suddenly—and though I threw a whole lot of +enthusiasm into my face in carrying out his idea, I didn't have to try +very hard—"I think that's a ripping gown. White is ever so much more +your style than—than—"</p> + +<p>By Jove, I swallowed just in time! But it had roused her. I could see +her brighten.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said. "Let me see—what <i>is</i> it you remember?" And she kind of +muttered, "Perhaps I can tell from that—"</p> + +<p>She paused expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know!" And I twirled the hat, feeling a bit rattled. Why +the deuce did she want to rub it in?</p> + +<p>"But I want you to tell me." Her beautiful eyes were teasing.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> know—in black." I twirled the hat faster.</p> + +<p>"<i>Black!</i>" She stared, her exquisite lips standing apart like the two +petals of a rose. "Why, I never wore black in my life. You <i>know</i> you +never saw me in black."</p> + +<p>I felt hurt. I couldn't blame her for wanting to appear to forget about +it, but still—</p> + +<p>She must have seen my face fall, for I know, by Jove, I could just feel +it kind of collapse, I was that hurt and disappointed. Her face softened +kindly and I took courage, for my devilishly alert mind just then hit +upon another explanation. I recalled that she had thoughtlessly left the +pajamas in my rooms. I also realized with dismay that Foxy Grandpa had +promised, or rather the officers had promised for him, that they should +be returned promptly. And, by Jove, I had forgotten all about them!</p> + +<p>"Never mind," I said, thinking aloud, as I frequently do. "I'll +telephone about them as soon as we get to Wolhurst." Then a terrible +shock struck me. "Oh, I say, you didn't have your name on them, did +you?"</p> + +<p>"On what?" How kindly, even if quizzically, she was regarding me! The +big white hat shifted an inch or two nearer. I realized with joy that +she was beginning to forget about being put out with me.</p> + +<p>"Why—" I looked about cautiously and dropped my voice, though it was +not likely any one could hear above the quiver of the train. "Why, in +your black pajamas you left in my rooms."</p> + +<p>A kind of little gasp was all I heard, and then she was on her feet and +looking—not at me, but above my head—looking away off down the length +of the car. Somehow—why, I couldn't understand—I had a weird, horrible +feeling of abasement, as though I had killed a child, or had done some +other dashed unreasonable thing like that. Her face had flushed but now +was deadly white. And then, by Jove, I saw she was looking for another +chair.</p> + +<p>I jumped up at once and moved into the aisle.</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," I said miserably, "so sorry, dear, I hurt you. I didn't +mean ever to speak of the pajamas. I knew you wanted to forget about the +other night, and I knew you wanted <i>me</i> to forget, too—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please—" She shrank back, her beautiful eyes like those of a +frightened deer. But it was the last car, and I blocked the aisle. I +didn't realize at the time that I was doing it. It came to me afterward, +and was one of the things I kicked myself about for hours, more or less.</p> + +<p>Just at the moment I was so dashed wild about setting myself right with +her. The only other thing I had presence of mind to remember was the +nearness about us of a lot of beady-eyed cats, and so I drew nearer and +lowered my voice so none could hear. For I had another feeling of +inspiration as to what really was the matter with her!</p> + +<p>Matter! I should say, rather! She was beginning to look +angry—splendidly angry—her eyes just blazing blue fire. I knew I would +have to get in my explanation quickly, and what's more, if what Pugsley +thought was true, I would have to hit the jolly nail on the head or else +everything was off, you know.</p> + +<p>"Why, Frances—sweetheart," I pleaded softly—just loud enough for her +to hear above the train, "I know you are put out with me because you +found me gone the next morning, but honestly, dear, I acted for the +best—indeed, I did." And to be on the safe side, I profited by another +inspiration: "And, my darling girl, I'll never mention the pajamas and +the other night—never any more—as long as we live, nor the cigarettes +nor cigars nor whisky. Why, I don't care if you—"</p> + +<p>"Tarrytown—all out for Tarrytown!" came in a high tenor voice from the +end of the car, and something bowled down the aisle and brushed me +aside. It was the frump.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Frances!" she exclaimed sharply; "our station." Next instant +they were streaking it for the door, with me a good second. I saw +Frances look behind once with—oh, such a look! Dashed if it didn't +shrivel me, you know—that sort. And, by Jove, I knew Pugsley was right, +and that I had failed to put the ball over!</p> + +<p>I was not six feet behind as they scrambled through the station to the +other side where a large car stood panting. I saw Frances clutch the +frump's arm and whisper something, and I heard the frump's reply, for +her voice was loud and strongly masculine.</p> + +<p>"Crazy?" she rasped. "Nonsense! Drunk, more likely. Most of them are +half the time."</p> + +<p>I didn't have time to see what she referred to, for just then we reached +the side of the car. I didn't see a thing of Billings, but the chauffeur +jumped to the ground and received the ladies and their bags. He seemed +to me devilish familiar, too. By Jove, the way he held my darling's hand +was the most infernally audacious, outrageous thing I ever beheld! I +should have liked to punch his head. He helped them into the tonneau and +was so busy with his silly jackass chatter that he closed the door +before he turned and saw me. I was just standing there, leaning a little +forward with my cane, you know, and fixing my monocle reproachfully on +Frances—trying to get her eye.</p> + +<p>And then, by jove, I felt a blow on my shoulder that almost bowled me +over, for I had my legs crossed, you know.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be hanged—it's Dicky!" And he was grinning at me like a +what's-its-name cat. And with the grin I recognized him. It was the +fresh young fool who had been so devilish familiar at the pier the +morning Frances left.</p> + +<p>Then he banged me again, dash it, and tried to get my hand, but I put it +behind me. But he did get my arm, and he turned toward the car. His +voice dropped.</p> + +<p>"See here, I want you to meet—Eh?" He broke off, staring at the frump, +who was making signs with her eyes, frowning and beckoning him with her +green flower-pot. He left me, murmuring something, and stepped to the +running-board. I could see the flower-pot bobbing about energetically +and twice Frances nodded, it seemed to me reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Crazy—drunk? Pshaw, you're batty!" he said to the frump rudely. Then I +heard another murmur and his harsh voice rose again: "Yes—Lightnut, I +tell you—Dicky Lightnut. Yes—Jack Billings' great friend. You just +wait till he's back from the city, and if he don't get upon his +hind—Eh, what? His name is <i>Smith</i>? Rats!"</p> + +<p>All this time I was just standing there, trying to catch Frances' eye. +I felt sure if I could catch her eye she would see how devilish sorry I +was. I moved back a few feet, for, dash it, without a sign from her, I +had no idea now, of course, of considering myself as one of the party. +Not finding Billings with the car, and the information I caught that he +was still in the city, just left me high and dry, you know.</p> + +<p>"All right, Miss Smarty," the yellow-topped chauffeur rasped, addressing +the frump, "I'll just show you!"</p> + +<p>He turned about and jerked his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dicky! Here, just a minute, old chap—will you?"</p> + +<p>Of course I took no notice of him whatever. In fact I looked in the +other direction.</p> + +<p>"Lightnut!" he called. I just stared up at the castle on the hill. I +felt devilish annoyed, though. I recalled a conversation the other day +at the club in which Van Dyne remarked that the intimacy affected now by +chauffeurs was growing insufferable. Declared his man had asked him for +a light that morning.</p> + +<p>The fellow stared a little; then he came toward me, smirking in a +jocular, impertinent way.</p> + +<p>"Say, stop your kidding, old man," he muttered; "girls have no sense of +humor, you know. Come along—I've just been telling them you are my best +friend."</p> + +<p>I stole another look at the car, but Frances avoided me; so I came to a +decision. I turned shortly on the driver.</p> + +<p>"See here now, my good fellow," I said sharply, "you stop subjecting +those ladies to annoyance. Drive on, or I'll report you to my friends."</p> + +<p>He stared—seemed to be trying to stare me out of countenance, in fact. +Then the grin slowly faded.</p> + +<p>"Why, Dicky!" he exclaimed in an aggrieved tone, "don't you remember +me—don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly do not," I answered with decision. I felt my face getting +red with vexation. "And what's more, my name is not 'Dicky.'"</p> + +<p>His hand slowly swept his chin and he whistled.</p> + +<p>"Wha—Well, I'll be jiggered!" He whirled toward the car.</p> + +<p>"On me, this time, I guess! You're right!"</p> + +<p>Then his face clouded and he moved down upon me.</p> + +<p>"Here, you get along now about your business, whoever you are!" His hand +waved as though sweeping me away. "I've a mind to kick you for annoying +that young lady."</p> + +<p>He looked toward Frances and I could see he was showing off. But I +thought she looked a bit disgusted. As for the frump, she suddenly +opened the door, stepped down and then up again, but this time behind +the steering wheel.</p> + +<p>"If you don't come on, I'm going," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Just a minute," he said, scowling back at her. He faced me.</p> + +<p>"Look here, if I hit you once"—he leveled his finger—"well, they'll +have to pick you up with a sponge, that's all!"</p> + +<p>But, except for fixing my glass for a better study of Frances, I never +moved. Didn't occur to me as necessary, you know, until she should drive +off. Just stood leaning on my cane and with feet crossed, you know, in +the way I had long ago found was the least exhausting, if one has to +stand at all. But, by Jove, the fellow was right in my face now, almost! +Devilish annoying!</p> + +<p>"Did you hear me, you glass-eyed fool?" he barked in my ear. "You +masher! By George, <i>I'll</i> mash you!"</p> + +<p>And he looked at Frances again and laughed, but she was looking away off +up at the big stone castle on the Pocantico Hills behind. And I just +reveled in her glorious profile, splashed bright by the golden sunshine +reflected from the Tappan Zee opposite. Incidentally, I was trying in my +mind the three arm movements that must be made as one, and for which, to +learn, I had paid the great master, Galliard of Paris, a thousand francs +in gold.</p> + +<p>The car began to edge away.</p> + +<p>"All right—coming!" he yelled; and then he launched his blow. But so +rapid—instantaneous, in fact—are the famous three movements of the +great scientist, I don't remember that my eye even shifted its grip +upon the monocle. Therefore, as I came back into the same position again +as his shoulder hit the ground, I was in time to catch my darling's eye +at last just as they curved. And, by Jove, she looked amused—and +pleased.</p> + +<p>As for the frump, she frankly and harshly laughed, and then moved up a +speed, just as a south-bound express took the station.</p> + +<p>And I swung aboard it, back for little old New York. Didn't see what the +chauffeur did. Wasn't interested, you know, about that.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>BILLINGS' SYMPTOMS ALARM ME</h3> + + +<p>"Most infernal outrage of the century, I tell you!" Billings stormed. +For an hour I had sat there in my rooms, limp and bewildered under the +tempest of his wrath. The wild and incoherent sputter over the 'phone +that Jenkins reported upon my return had sent me on a hunt for my +friend. I had found him sullenly dining alone over at the club, and as +soon as I entered he started to bolt from the room. Only through the +greatest pleading had I managed to coax him back to my chambers, hoping +I might screw out of him some explanation.</p> + +<p>I had received it, by Jove!</p> + +<p>Of course, I recognized it all as impossible and crazy, you know, but +when I said so to Billings his remarks were so violent, and he turned +such a dangerous apoplectic purple, dashed if I didn't renege.</p> + +<p>"But then the old man, you know!" I protested weakly.</p> + +<p>Billings leveled his big arm at me, mouthing wordlessly for a minute.</p> + +<p>"That—that'll do, about that old man!" he choked at last. "Not—not +another word about <i>him</i>!" And finally he collapsed into his seat from +sheer exhaustion. Just sat there panting and glaring at me like a jolly +bulldog.</p> + +<p>Gradually he became calmer.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what: the only thing that lets you out, Dicky, is the way Van +Dyne and Blakesley did, in turn, when I got them there."</p> + +<p>He spoke savagely, but I brightened a little.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I said. "Didn't they recognize you, either?"</p> + +<p>Billings' snort made me jump.</p> + +<p>"Recognize!" he bellowed. "They went back, mad as hell!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said soothingly.</p> + +<p>"That's not all," continued Billings grimly. "I was so sure it was a +put-up job, some asinine, fool joke, I wrote a cautious note to the +governor. After a lot of pleading, I got the fools to send it. He came."</p> + +<p>Billings paused dramatically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, <i>he</i> came!" he went on, fixing me with an excited eye. "And +when I staggered forward and did the prodigal son act on his neck, he +handed me a punch that jolted off his silk tile. Went straight up in the +air with the whole bunch down there and contracted to do things for them +that will keep him active for a year. Threatened to have <i>me</i> sent up +for forgery—this is my own father now, mind you—forgery of my own +name! Huh!"</p> + +<p>Billings strode to the end of the room and back. Then he sat down +again, beating with his foot upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"Say, has everybody gone crazy?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>I didn't dare say a word, for I had my own opinions, you know, and I +knew it wouldn't do to express them. Only excite him. Best way seemed +just to pretend to swallow it all, you know. Best way always, Pugsley +says, especially with best friends.</p> + +<p>"They were pretty nasty after that," Billings went on gloomily; "and +they wouldn't send for any one else. Just had to sit there in that +infernal bastile with nothing on but pajamas and a pair of bedroom +slippers. Every once in a while somebody would come and address me as +'Foxy,' and want me to send for my clothes or else send out and buy +some. Finally, a big brute came and threw me some dirty rags and said +I'd <i>have</i> to put on those or else buy some others. Buy some, Dicky—did +you get that?—<i>buy</i> some!"</p> + +<p>"Devilish rude, <i>I</i> say," I commented indignantly. "Who wants to wear +<i>bought</i> clothes? Why, dash it, my tailor says—"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" Billings whirled his fat head impatiently. "You miss the whole +point, Dicky! I didn't have a cent of <i>money</i>; and what's more, I +couldn't get any." He paused. "See? Try to get that, Dicky—make an +effort, old chap."</p> + +<p>I did, but, dash it, it was such a rum idea—very oddest thing he had +said—and silly, you know. Fancy any one not being able to send out and +get money! I just got to thinking what a jolly queer idea it was and +lost part of what Billings was saying—something about how he managed to +get them to send a note for his clothes. Here is what I <i>did</i> hear:</p> + +<p>"And I had just got into the togs and stuffed the rubies and pajamas out +of sight in my pocket, when the particular brigand who had charge of my +coop came back. He almost threw a fit when he saw me. 'Where's +Twenty-seven?' he wanted to know. And then, before I could say a word, +he blustered up to me with: 'And say, what business <i>you</i> got in here? +Clear out!' And you bet I didn't lose a single golden minute—I cleared. +You should have seen me beat it down that corridor! The fellow followed +me a little, grumbling to himself. Then he called to a cop who was just +coming in: 'Say, O'Keefe, run that young fat freak out of here, will +you? It's one of that bunch of visitors that went through just now. +Fresh thing—snooping into the cells!'</p> + +<p>"And so the same cop that brought me there—the very same—was the one +that shoved me out of the door, warning me that I'd best not go poking +into the prisoners' cells again if I knew what was good for me!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I ventured sympathetically.</p> + +<p>Billings nodded. "Of course, I knew it was a semi-lucid interval with +them all, but for all I knew it might pass any instant and some bat +discover I was a Dutch scrubwoman escaped from Hoboken. So I broke for +the first taxi and hit it up for the club."</p> + +<p>Billings took a deep breath and went on:</p> + +<p>"By George," he said, laughing nervously. "I felt like a dog with a can +to its tail hunting for a place to hide. Every time a fellow looked at +me I had heart failure until he called me by my own name. Bribed Eugene +to lie about my whereabouts until his face hurt and then I went to bed. +Sneaked out of my hole this evening to get a bite of something, and then +you ran me down.</p> + +<p>"And Dicky"—Billings finished excitedly—"I was sure you had come to +drag me back to my dungeon, and I looked behind you, fully expecting to +see those two Irish pirates. If I had, I should have swooned in my soup, +that's all!"</p> + +<p>I murmured my sympathy. And, by Jove, I certainly did have a heartache +about him, but of course I couldn't tell him why. I was getting him +quieted—I could see that—and he was so far mollified as to help +himself to a cigar. When he had clipped a V from the end with his knife, +he leaned over and tapped me impressively on the knee with the blade.</p> + +<p>"And just think, Dicky," he said, absently emphasizing with the sharp +point of the knife, "there I sat, moneyless—not even a dime, you +know—in a suit of pajamas whose three buttons were worth one hundred +and fifty thousand dollars!"</p> + +<p>He fell back, his fat arms eloquently outspreading.</p> + +<p>"Can you beat it?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>I rubbed my palm on my knee and considered.</p> + +<p>Privately, I thought I <i>could</i> beat it—by Jove, I was sure I could! I +knew of a pair of pajamas worth a dashed sight more than money. And I +wondered gloomily where they were. I had telephoned as soon as I stepped +out at the Grand Central Station, and after a bit made them understand +who I was and reminded them that the black pajamas had not been returned +according to promise. And then they told me Foxy Grandpa had escaped, +but as he had nothing else on, they felt sure of rounding him up as soon +as he came out of his hiding-place—probably after dark.</p> + +<p>"By the way, old chap," puffed Billings, his poise and good humor +improving under the spell of the cigar, "I was sorry to return the +pajamas torn and dusty and wrinkled as they were. But you see, on +account of the rubies, I was leary about having them pressed or fussed +over. So I wrapped and sealed them myself, just as one does a jewel +package. Got them, did you?"</p> + +<p>I stared at Billings through my glass.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you get them?" he questioned in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—it's all right, old chap," I said hastily and as pleasantly +as I could. "Eugene delivered the box to Jenkins and I opened it myself. +Thought it was—h'm—thought it was something else." Then I proceeded +soothingly: "But you're just a little mistaken about the dust and +wrinkles, old chap—and about them being torn. Ha, ha! Good joke!"</p> + +<p>But Billings' face was unresponsive.</p> + +<p>"Why, you goop," he said with cheerful contempt, "there's a triangular +tear in the back of the coat you could stick your head through; and one +of the sleeves is in ribbons."</p> + +<p>I just opened the drawer of the table and took out the box—glove box, I +think it was—containing the pajamas. I had read something somewhere +about the clearing effect—the reaction, and that sort of thing, +produced sometimes by a shock.</p> + +<p>"See for yourself, old chap," I said gently. And I lifted out the +gossamer fabrics and again spread their crimson glory under the lamp. +Billings examined them eagerly, but just looked confounded.</p> + +<p>"Don't understand it," he said, biting his nails. "Why, hang it, they +look smooth, too, as though never worn. And the rubies are all right, +too."</p> + +<p>He rested his chin upon his hands and gloomed at the red sweep.</p> + +<p>I caught a few sentences of his mumbling.</p> + +<p>"By George, I'm half a mind to think there's something in the pajamas," +he muttered—"something uncanny and disagreeable—something they're +alive with!"</p> + +<p>I sprang up and back, overturning my chair.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens—oh, I say!" I exclaimed in consternation, as I fixed my +glass on the garments. "It's your jail, then, you know—"</p> + +<p>His hand checked my reach to the bell push.</p> + +<p>"Don't be any more kinds of an ass than you can help, Dicky," he said +with rude irritability. "I'm talking about something else; and I haven't +got any jail, dammit! A station house isn't exactly a jail!"</p> + +<p>He reached for another cigar and went off into a brown study, wrapping +himself in clouds of smoke. I thought that maybe if I kept quite still +he might come to himself all right. Meantime, for want of something to +do, and to keep from getting so devilish sleepy, I fell to turning over +the pajamas, admiring their beauty and daintiness and kind of +half-daringly wondering how <i>she</i> would—</p> + +<p>And suddenly I made a discovery; and I forgot about keeping still.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Billings!" I exclaimed excitedly. "Here's something inside the +collar—some sort of jolly writing!"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Billings sharply. He jerked the garment from my hand +and held it in the light. All round the circle within the collar band +ran four or five darker red lines of queer little crisscross characters.</p> + +<p>"Chinese laundry marks, you idiot," he commented carelessly. And then he +ducked his head closer with a quick intake of breath.</p> + +<p>"By George, Dicky!" he cried, his voice tremulous with some excitement. +"Can't be that either; it's woven in—awfully fine, neat job, too. Now, +what do you suppose—"</p> + +<p>He broke off wonderingly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>AN INSCRIPTION AND A MYSTERY</h3> + + +<p>Billings rubbed his chin perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"By jigger, now, I wonder what those hen tracks mean?" he uttered +musingly. Then he looked up at me with sudden animation in his face.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Dicky," he exclaimed, "do you happen to know Doozenberry?"</p> + +<p>I tried to remember. I shut one eye and studied the marks closely +through my glass, but had to shake my head at last.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, old chap; don't seem to remember it at all if I ever did—not a +dashed glimmer of it left." I yawned. "Never tried to keep any of those +college things, you know."</p> + +<p>Billings, who had been staring, uttered a rude comment.</p> + +<p>"It's not a language, you cuckoo," he snapped; "it's a man. He's a +D.S.—distinguished scientist, you know. What's more, he's one of your +neighbors, right in this building."</p> + +<p>"Don't know him," I said a little stiffly. "What's his club?"</p> + +<p>Billings all but gnashed his teeth.</p> + +<p>"Club, thunder!" he jerked out impatiently. "Why, man, he's a member of +all the great societies of the world—bodies whose rank and +exclusiveness put the blink on all the clubs you or I ever saw. Got a +string of letters after his name like a universal keyboard, and is the +main squeeze, the great scream, among all the scientific push over here +and in Europe. Lots of dough, but off his trolley with learning."</p> + +<p>"And in this building?" I said wonderingly. "What's he like?"</p> + +<p>For a moment I had a thought of Foxy Grandpa, but the janitor had said +he did not belong in the building. Besides, Billings' next words removed +that clue to the lost pajamas. By Jove, how I did long to ask his advice +about them! Once I was on the point of doing so—had devilish narrow +escape, in fact—but pulled up on the brink. So deuced hard to remember +that anything so delicate and sweet and fetching could be Billings' +sister, you know. I had been wondering for an hour whether I had better +say anything about my adventure up at Tarrytown—wondered if she would +like me to.</p> + +<p>"Here, you moon calf, wake up!" Billings' coarse voice brought me back +to the present, and I had to blink and pretend I was listening. "I'm +telling you about Doozenberry! I say you surely must have seen him—you +couldn't miss him in a black cave. Queer-looking old skate, tall as a +street lamp and as thin; looks like a long cylinder of black +broadcloth. So dignified it hurts him."</p> + +<p>I reflected.</p> + +<p>"Awfully large head," continued Billings, elevating his hands some two +feet apart, "pear-shaped affair—big end up—bumps on it like halves of +grape fruit, porcupine eyebrows, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," I said, nodding eagerly; "and a little, shriveled—well, +kind of mashed sort of face, eyes beadlike and jolly small. I've got him +now! I've gone down with him in the elevator."</p> + +<p>Billings nodded. "You've got him painted," he said drily. "That's the +professor; only, his eyes are anything but 'jolly.' I've ridden in the +elevator with him myself. Always manages to look like he was traveling +with a bad smell!"</p> + +<p>"Devilish sensitive, I dare say."</p> + +<p>Billings looked at me suspiciously, but I had got hold of the thing I +was trying to recollect and I went on quickly:</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you know, I believe Jenkins knows his man—fellow who butlers, +and, I believe, cooks, for him. He and Jenkins belong to the same—how +do they call it?—same club of gentlemen's gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Billings brought his fist down. "Let's have Jenkins in," he suggested. +And we did.</p> + +<p>"I say, Jenkins," I began, "this Professor Doodle bug above us—"</p> + +<p>"Doozenberry!" Billings sharply corrected.</p> + +<p>"Well, some jolly rum thing about him, don't you know, +Jenkins—something you said his man told you—remember, eh?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins' eyes batted a little.</p> + +<p>He cleared his throat. "Why, yes, sir; he told me a lot of funny things +one night, sir. Don't suppose he would have done it, only him and me had +an evening off and we—we—"</p> + +<p>Jenkins seemed to hesitate.</p> + +<p>"And you went on a bat together," suggested Billings, rubbing his hands +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"It was, sir," Jenkins admitted, looking at me sadly. "Leastways, he +sort o' loosened up as he got—got—"</p> + +<p>"Pickled," Billings helped smoothly.</p> + +<p>"Quite so, sir; there's some is that way always: some is taken other +ways." Jenkins considered Billings moodily. "The power of the demon rum, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Ah, true!" sighed Billings, lifting his eyes.</p> + +<p>"This here chap, he got to going on and all but crying about his cursed +hard fate—them's his own words, sir—his cursed hard fate in having to +drink water all the time and eat cow feed—"</p> + +<p>"Eat what?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir—that's what he called it—something the perfesser +has him fix out of cereals and nuts and sour milk. That's all they have, +sir; and they don't have no cooking, for the perfesser says it breaks +the celluloid—"</p> + +<p>"Cellular," corrected Billings.</p> + +<p>"Maybe so, sir," demurred Jenkins. "He <i>said</i> celluloid—the celluloid +tissue papers, <i>he</i> called it. And then his having no heat on all winter +and the windows kept open all the time and the snow piling up on his bed +at night kept him with colds all the year. And then, there was the +dampness—"</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> it, the dampness!" I exclaimed. "Tell him."</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, he told me that every night he had to turn down the +perfesser's bed and go all over it with a two-gallon watering can—"</p> + +<p>"Watering can!" gasped Billings.</p> + +<p>"I'm telling you what he says, sir. Then he covers it all up again, and +in about a half-hour the perfesser turns the covers down; and if it's +what he calls 'fine'—that is, damp all over—he climbs in and sleeps +like a top."</p> + +<p>"Cold-water bug, you know," I explained, but Billings shrugged his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"That's all right. Bug or not, he's the goods, all the same. Greatest +ever." He spoke with quiet conviction.</p> + +<p>He deliberated a moment and turned to me.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what, Dicky: I'm going up and ask him down. He's the one to +give us the right dope on these crazy letters—Eh, what you say, +Jenkins?"</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir; I was saying that the perfesser don't visit nobody; +and he never sees nobody but the big lit'ry and scientific sharps."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he don't eh?" Billings snorted contemptuously. "Well, Jenkins, I +haven't been a prize fisherman in my time for nothing; I guess I know +how to select my 'fly.' I know what will fetch him: 'Mr. Lightnut's +compliments, and will he be pleased to honor him by passing upon an +Oriental curio of rare scientific interest?'—that sort of merry rot! +Why, you couldn't hold him back with a block and tackle. Oh, you needn't +worry; I'll do the proper curves all right." He turned toward the door. +"And, Jenkins, you come along and work me into the lodge."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but dash it," I protested nervously, "he won't come—he'll be +insulted. Why, he'll know as soon as he sees you that you couldn't—"</p> + +<p>I checked myself, recalling that the best thing after his recent +exhibition was to avoid every contradiction. And then, by Jove, I knew +that if he became ill and had to go to a hospital or somewhere, it would +be all off with his taking me up to Wolhurst next day.</p> + +<p>Billings grinned confidently. "Watch me bring him down here," he said.</p> + +<p>And by Jove, he did!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE PROFESSOR</h3> + + +<p>Billings ushered in the professor with a flourishing introduction.</p> + +<p>The great man never spoke, but gave me the end of one finger, and +devilish grudgingly at that. He just came to anchor and stood there very +straight and stiff, ignoring the chairs thrust toward him from every +point. One hand was stuck in his stiff broadcloth bosom, with elbow +pointing outward, and his great topheavy head reared above us +impressively.</p> + +<p>Billings rubbed his hands and bowed and smirked.</p> + +<p>"Lovely weather we are having for summer, don't you think, Professor? +Jenkins, a chair for the professor."</p> + +<p>He was already hedged in by chairs, but he remained standing. Dash it, +he was staring hard at me, his beady eyes boring like gimlets, don't you +know, and his little shriveled face all puckered up. By Jove, but he +looked sour! Looked like he would bite, or, as Billings said afterward, +would like to, if the human race wasn't poisonous.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful stunt, science, isn't it, Professor?" gushed Billings, still +rubbing his hands and grinning like a wild what's-its-name. "Tracing +the orbits of the shooting stars or measuring the animals in the tiny +sewer drop. H'm! Fascinating pursuit! And how marvelous it must be to be +able to classify instantly any specimen of man's or nature's +handiwork—to—a—call the turn, so to speak—right off the bat, as it +were. H'm! We have here to-night—er—"</p> + +<p>With his hand upon the pajamas, Billings paused, for the professor paid +no attention—did not even turn round, in fact. He just stood there +staring at me. Billings coughed suggestively.</p> + +<p>"H'm! As I was saying, we have with us to-night a specimen," he resumed +a little louder, "I may say an example of something that, while +apparently commonplace and prosaic, is really a rare and unique—"</p> + +<p>"Ha—specimen <i>genus cypripedium</i>," came in a squeaky bark from the +professor as he held me in his eye. "Linnaeus, 1753. Ha! <i>Species +acaule</i>—proper habitat, bogs. Very common—<i>very</i> common, indeed."</p> + +<p>He batted at me sourly and seemed disappointed. By Jove, I never felt so +devilish mortified in all my life! Never! I nearly dropped my monocle +and felt myself getting jolly red about the ears. This only seemed to +make it worse.</p> + +<p>"Ha—<i>labellum</i> somewhat pinker purple than normal," he proceeded. "H'm! +Unusually fresh specimen."</p> + +<p>I looked appealingly at Billings. "Oh, I say, you know!" I exclaimed in +dismay.</p> + +<p>Billings had been standing with his mouth agape, but now he made a +stride forward and touched the professor on the arm.</p> + +<p>"That's Mr. Lightnut, Professor," he said blandly. "That's not <i>the</i> +specimen. H'm! Slight mistake."</p> + +<p>Slowly the professor's big head turned on its axis and his little eyes +blinked at Billings nastily.</p> + +<p>"I was referring to the orchid in the gentleman's coat," he observed +quietly, and turned back to me.</p> + +<p>"Of course! Of <i>course</i>!" stammered Billings with eagerness. "My +mistake—one on me. <i>Stung!</i>" his lips pantomimed to me.</p> + +<p>I addressed the professor hospitably: "Ah! won't you sit down, +Professor?"</p> + +<p>He drew back, frowning. "Sit down, sir?" he questioned. And, by Jove, by +this time he showed his teeth. And devilish white, even teeth they were, +too, only they didn't fit.</p> + +<p>"I never sit down, sir," he said stiffly; "never!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I explained.</p> + +<p>"To be sure!" ejaculated Billings, looking extremely silly.</p> + +<p>The professor appeared not ungratified with the sensation he had +produced and condescended to smile; that is, if you can call a creasing +and wrinkling like the cracked end of a hard-boiled egg a smile.</p> + +<p>"You say, 'sit down,' sir," he said, addressing me. "I ask you, in +turn: Is not 'sitting down' recrudescence back to the primordial?"</p> + +<p>So saying, he took a pinch at my shirt front and stepped back again +impressively. Still addressing me, he continued:</p> + +<p>"It is such thoughtless indulgence of muscles growing obsolescent that +retards the evolution of our species, a species, sir, which I claim is +coessential in fundamental attributes with contemporaneous amphibia. Ha! +I surprise you, perhaps? Can you note in me a resemblance to a +batrachian?"</p> + +<p>I didn't know. And, dash it, I was afraid to chance it. Tried my jolly +best to think what a batrachian was. It came to me like a flash that it +sounded like something in Italy.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you do, though, awfully!" I exclaimed, trying to brighten up +over it. "Doesn't he, Billings? Noticed a resemblance right off, don't +you know."</p> + +<p>Billings went to nodding with an air of pleased surprise. Dash me if I +believed he knew what a batrachian was, though, any more than I did. But +Billings never admits anything.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said glibly. "I was half suspecting it; why, look at the +skin, you know—and features!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, yes!" I said, feeling encouraged. "Head, mouth, nose, eyes +and—" I was going to say "hair," but I remembered in time about the +wig.</p> + +<p>The professor looked awfully pleased. He gave me a finger again.</p> + +<p>"Such perspicacity—ah—is rare in one who looks so—"</p> + +<p>He coughed slightly, then resumed:</p> + +<p>"How gratifying, indeed, to meet another investigator! A student in +zoötomy, no doubt? Ah! Do not deny it; I divined it at once. A +delightful recreation, sir—a game, absorbing but elusive."</p> + +<p>"Awfully jolly, you know," I agreed. "Ripping, I say!"</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know," chirped Billings. I wondered if it was anything +like polo.</p> + +<p>And then, by Jove, thinking of polo sent me off again thinking of +Frances. Not that she was like polo, dash it, but I wished she could see +me play.</p> + +<p>The professor took another pinch from my shirt front and favored me with +a rusty smile.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said: "You must take time to look into a little monograph of +mine: <i>Man in Miniature; a Study of the Anthropology of the Frog</i>. You +regard the frog, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, yes—fine, you know!" I answered, my mouth watering. By +Jove! I thought of the devilish good things they got up in season down +at the Café Grenouille.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir!" The professor bowed to me. "I can not express to you how +gratifying to me this meeting is. I must get a list of your societies +and degrees. So few appreciate the frog; so many, even in the scientific +world, deride my published claim that congenious with man is the <i>rana +mugiens</i> or American bullfrog."</p> + +<p>By Jove! they were certainly congenial with me, all right.</p> + +<p>"Awfully hard to swallow unless well done, don't you know," I demurred +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Truly incredible, sir!"</p> + +<p>The professor took another pinch and held it in front of him.</p> + +<p>"But I have allowed for that," he added, emphasizing with his other +hand. "My frog brochure meets that difficulty and whets the appetite of +the most mediocre."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Billings!" I exclaimed eagerly, "we must tell Marchand about +it over at the club." I was so devilish tired of his eternal <i>sauce +délicieuse</i>, his <i>sauce aigre</i>, his <i>sauce écossaise</i> and the rest, +don't you know.</p> + +<p>The professor inclined his head gravely.</p> + +<p>"Ha, French! Then Monsieur Marchand has done something with the frog, +has he?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-nine different stunts," Billings replied proudly. "I <i>know</i> +because I'm on the House Committee. Yes, <i>sir</i>, frogs are his specialty; +that man can get more out of a frog than any other living man."</p> + +<p>The professor looked a little nettled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" he said rather coldly.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Professor, he's got 'em <i>all</i> skinned!" Billings enthused.</p> + +<p>The remark provoked a contemptuous sniff.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly, that being the proper condition preliminary to comparative +anatomical study," said the professor loftily. "Then the physical +resemblance to a man becomes startling. I have identified every analogy +with man except the beautiful phenomenon of the beating of the frog +heart twenty-four hours after separation from the body—the living body, +sir. Experiment upon the living human specimen is necessary for +confirmation of the homologous structure of the two hearts, however. +This I have not done—not yet."</p> + +<p>He spoke gloomily. I looked at Billings blankly but I found Billings was +looking at me the same way.</p> + +<p>Every once in a while he had been lifting the pajamas. He would cough +and open his mouth, but just then the professor would start off again. +Once Billings, with an awfully savage expression, shook his fist at our +visitor's back and danced up and down upon the rug.</p> + +<p>"The indifference, not to say prejudice, of the public upon the matter +of human vivisection is heartrending," went on the professor sadly. +"Sir, I have advertised in the 'help wanted' columns of the daily press, +and have interviewed scores without arousing one spark of ambition or +awakening one thrill of gratitude over the opportunity offered to assist +me in the investigation of scientific phenomena. I pleaded, sir; I +reproached; I even showed them the demonstration upon the frog. Did I +move them? Were they affected, do you think?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head sympathetically. Seemed the safe thing to do.</p> + +<p>"A lot of pikers, by George!" said Billings with an air of indignation. +"Must have been shameless!"</p> + +<p>"Deuced indifferent," I ventured. "I should have been regularly cut up."</p> + +<p>"Ah! of course you would," cried the professor, lifting another pinch. +"There speaks the intelligent devotee of science! But did they see it +that way? Not at all, sir; they were only indifferent and +ungrateful—they were rude and—ah—boisterous! One savage primate +assaulted me with his bare knuckles. A blow, gentlemen, a blow from the +boasted family of anthropina!"</p> + +<p>"Beastly outrage, Professor," growled Billings. "Leave it to me; I know +a chap who's got a pull with the police commissioner, and I'll just tip +him off, by George. It's no matter what family they are or how much they +boasted. It'll be the hurry wagon and the cooler for them, eh, Dicky?"</p> + +<p>He gestured to me wildly, nodding his head like a man with the +what's-it-name dance.</p> + +<p>"Deuced good idea. Awful rotters, I say," was my comment.</p> + +<p>The professor seemed affected by our sympathy. He withdrew from his +pocket a folded handkerchief, slowly opened it and pressed it lightly to +each eye. Then he carefully refolded and replaced it.</p> + +<p>"Strange thing, the persistence of the primitive emotions," he said, +sniffing thoughtfully. "Singular how they affect the lachrymal +<i>apparati</i>. Peculiarly disagreeable taste, gentlemen, that of tears, +despite their simple elementary composition—ninety-nine and six-tenths +per cent. water, you remember, and the rest a modicum of chloride of +sodium, mucus, soda and phosphates. H'm! Your pardon, gentlemen, for +this digression, but to have sustained a stab under this very roof from +<i>genus homo</i>! It is indeed hard."</p> + +<p>Here Jenkins, who had been lingering and busying himself about the +apartment, whispered to me from behind:</p> + +<p>"It's that dago, sir, that delivers fruit every day."</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"That's the name. I see him going back every morning."</p> + +<p>Jenkins moved off, nodding mysteriously, as I stared at him through my +glass. In his way, Billings was speaking words of comfort and all that +sort of thing to the professor.</p> + +<p>"Never mind; the law will get 'em for you," he reassured him.</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's just where you are in error," sighed our guest. "The law, +sir, will not get a single subject for me. In this age of unrestrained +liberty of all classes, the law lends no aid whatever to science. It is +not as it was in the glorious past when, under imperial patronage, +Vesalius, the great father of anatomy, was protected when by mistake his +scalpel cut the living heart of a Spanish grandee. Times worth while, +gentlemen, those great days of supreme imperialism! Ah! there was no +lack of material available if one stood in a little at court; one had +only to designate a selection and the thing was done. Gracious, gentle +times, my friends! Gone, alas, for ever! Such opportunities are +impossible under a republic."</p> + +<p>The professor shook his head and reached for his handkerchief again. But +this time he only blew his nose.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tempora mutantur</i>," he murmured regretfully, "Eh, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"True," said Billings, pursing his lips. "Ah, how true!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, ought to be something done, you know," I declared.</p> + +<p>"Out of millions, not a single human specimen available," groaned the +professor dismally. "And my instruments ready for over a year."</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, sir; you'll have a go yet," Billings encouraged.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" The professor's little eyes swept Billings' person critically. +"Perhaps you, sir, would like the privilege—"</p> + +<p>Billings staggered back a step or two precipitately.</p> + +<p>"Delighted; nothing'd give me greater pleasure, but so infernally busy," +he explained hurriedly. "Just my confounded luck; unfortunately, got to +go to Egypt right away—probably to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>The professor sighed again in his disappointment.</p> + +<p>"No matter; I shall find some one in time," he said grimly. "But I shall +abandon this foolish persuasion and cajolery as unworthy of the +scientist. Do we lower ourselves with such devices in securing a +butterfly or a grasshopper or a frog or any animate specimen except man? +Certainly not; we capture and etherize them."</p> + +<p>He glanced about the room and beckoned us with his finger.</p> + +<p>"I have lately had my eye upon the gas man," he said in a low tone. He +closed one eye impressively.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Billings, his mouth dropping open wide.</p> + +<p>"The individual who comes at intervals to take the quarters from the +slot meter. H'm, fine subject, gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>"Great!" agreed Billings.</p> + +<p>"Ripping idea," I tried as a reply.</p> + +<p>The professor clasped his fingers tightly and rubbed his thumbs one over +the other. He brightened visibly.</p> + +<p>"The party has to go down upon his knees and stoop behind the end of the +tub in the bath-room," he continued. "It was my thought that while in +that advantageous position the sudden, quick application of a Turkish +bath towel saturated in ether would—Eh? Do you follow me?"</p> + +<p>"Devilish clever, you know," I said. I had already selected this for +reply for this time.</p> + +<p>Billings failed to come up. He just stared hard, rolled his eyes and ran +his finger around under his collar.</p> + +<p>The professor, in the act of taking another pinch from my shirt front, +paused with a little jerk. Then his great head shot forward in front of +his rigid neck—so suddenly, by Jove, that I reached out to try to catch +it, don't you know. He made just two strides to the table, ten feet +away, and pounced upon the pajamas with obviously trembling hands.</p> + +<p>And behind his back Billings relapsed into an arm-chair and fanned +himself with a magazine.</p> + +<p>His head dropped back, and upon his fat face was a what-you-call-it +smile of peace. He closed his eyes for an instant.</p> + +<p>"Suffering Thomas cats! At last!" I heard him murmur.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>I RECEIVE A SHOCK</h3> + + +<p>The professor fumblingly sought through his pockets, and producing a +pair of spectacles with phenomenally large lenses, adjusted them +shakily.</p> + +<p>He bent over the pajamas eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Impossible! And yet, it is, it is!" he muttered. "I would know the +weave among a thousand. It is hers undoubtedly, undoubtedly—the lost +silk of Si-Ling-Chi! How comes it here?"</p> + +<p>He glared around rather wildly at each of us in turn. Without waiting +for a reply, he whisked back to the pajamas, and fishing out a thick +magnifying lens, scrutinized the garments closely. It seemed that he +would certainly nod his big head off its jolly hinge; and his quick side +glances at Billings and myself, together with his growling and +muttering, just reminded me of a dog with a bone, by Jove!</p> + +<p>I stared at Billings and Billings stared at me, and then he slipped over +to the divan upon which I dropped, completely exhausted, dash it, from +standing so long.</p> + +<p>"<i>Whose</i> did he say?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Celia something," I answered. "Dash it, I didn't catch her surname. +Oh, I say, you know, this is <i>awful</i>!"</p> + +<p>I felt devilish mortified. Wondered what Frances might think, you know. +Billings drew in his lips and wagged his head ominously. He waved me +nearer.</p> + +<p>"He's on," he breathed behind his hand; "he's looking for her laundry +mark. Now, wouldn't that feaze you?"</p> + +<p>An exclamation of triumph from the professor, another glance at us, and +a hoarser and more prolonged mutter. I shifted uneasily. By Jove, I +didn't like it at all!</p> + +<p>Billings looked at me in consternation. "I wouldn't be in your shoes, +Dicky," he whispered. "You'll be pinched for this, sure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, now! I tell you, a friend in China—"</p> + +<p>Billings shrugged impatiently. "Just a plant, you chowder head," he +said, viewing me pityingly. "I tell you that's how all these +blackmailing schemes are worked. You ought to be more careful."</p> + +<p>"But, dash it, I don't even know her, this Celia what's-her-name," I +protested miserably. If Frances' brother thought that way, what would +<i>she</i> think?</p> + +<p>"Um! Maybe you don't, but they'll expect you to say that, anyhow. You're +up against it, old chap; the professor here evidently knows her and he +knows her pajamas—relative, probably."</p> + +<p>By Jove, I felt a little faint!</p> + +<p>"It will be all over New York to-morrow," continued Billings gloomily. +"Your picture and hers will be in the extras."</p> + +<p>Out of the professor's mutterings we caught a random sentence.</p> + +<p>"Found, found again," we heard him say. "Hers beyond peradventure of a +doubt. I am <i>not</i> mistaken."</p> + +<p>Billings rose, and his beckoning finger summoned me to a corner of the +room.</p> + +<p>"This is going to cost you a pot of money, Dicky," he said with a +serious air, "to say nothing of the scandal. My advice is, try buying +him off—best thing in the long run. I'll feel him for you."</p> + +<p>Nodding solemnly to me he cleared his voice. "H'm! I say, Professor."</p> + +<p>The professor, with his eye glued to the lens and the lens to the silk, +turned slowly about.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" began Billings. "The—h'm—articles you have there—you recognize +where they are from—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," he snapped, without looking up.</p> + +<p>"H'm! And whose did I understand you to say—I—er—did not catch her +name."</p> + +<p>His glance uplifted and scoured us sourly.</p> + +<p>"Si-Ling-Chi. Did you think I did not know? I recognized at sight her +wonderful disappearing weave." He bent again with his lens. "Marvelous, +indeed, after all these years," he muttered. "So long, so long! +Incredible preservation!"</p> + +<p>Billings placed his finger against his nose, rolled his eyes upward and +emitted the faintest of whistles. He caught my arm sharply.</p> + +<p>"Say, how old are you, Dicky?" he whispered excitedly.</p> + +<p>"I—er—twenty-seven, I think, old chap," I replied hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>Billings noiselessly slapped his leg. His face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Been of age six years," he calculated to himself. "By George, maybe you +can prove an alibi!"</p> + +<p>He coughed again at the absorbed figure stooping over the table.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Professor—h'm—how long now would you say it might be since—well, +she you mention—how long a time since she last saw—er—what you have +there—eh?"</p> + +<p>"How long?" repeated the professor absently. Then he moved, but his hand +only, and he flipped it, don't you know, as one does to banish a fly or +a dashed mosquito—that sort of thing, by Jove!</p> + +<p>"Can't you figure it out yourself?" he questioned irritably. "You +remember chronology gives Hwang-Si's reign as in the twenty-sixth +century before Christ; and of course, that of Si-Ling-Chi, his empress, +would be the same."</p> + +<p>Billings subsided limply into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Great Thomas cats!" he gasped weakly.</p> + +<p>"I think I divine the astute purpose of your inquiry," said the +professor, pausing to polish his glasses and favoring us with a wintry +smile. "It does not deceive me. You have in mind, sir, the erroneous +chronology that places Si-Ling-Chi thirteen centuries earlier. Ha! Is +not my suspicion correct?"</p> + +<p>"Regular bull's-eye!" responded Billings. "I mean," he added hastily, +"what's the use of denying it?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-six centuries before the Christian era is the best we can give +Si-Ling-Chi," said the professor, carefully affixing his glasses and +falling once more upon the pajamas.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said dazedly. "Then the lady—er—I mean the party—she's +rather far back—er—isn't she, don't you know?"</p> + +<p>The professor answered abstractedly:</p> + +<p>"Two thousand years before Confucius; twenty-four hundred and +twenty-nine years before the building of the Great Wall," he murmured +mechanically.</p> + +<p>Jove, but I was relieved! I looked inquiringly at Billings. He just sat +there kind of drooping, and shook his head. "I'm all in," he motioned +with his lips; and he wiped his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Ah, gentlemen!" exclaimed the professor, coming back again, "what a +thing this little Chinese woman did for civilization when she gave the +world silk culture and invented the loom! No wonder the Chinese deified +her as a goddess."</p> + +<p>"Goddess!" Billings swallowed hard. "And did these—h'm—garments belong +to the lady?"</p> + +<p>The professor frowned at him in surprise. "Garments?"</p> + +<p>"Them," said Billings in devilish questionable grammar, pointing to the +table. "They are pajamas, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" ejaculated the professor, holding them up. "So they are. You are +very observing, sir, very. Now, I had not noticed that at all; I was so +interested in the material itself—the wonderful silk of Si-Ling-Chi, +gentlemen. Ha! Indeed a rare privilege!"</p> + +<p>By Jove! He stroked the stuff lightly, tenderly—as one likes to do a +little child's hair, don't you know.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful, beautiful fabric," he sighed half to himself. "Only once +before have I seen a piece of it—but it was enough; I could never, +never forget." Something like a groan escaped him.</p> + +<p>Billings angled his head toward me and tightly compressed one eye.</p> + +<p>"H'm! Something in the petticoat line—eh, Professor?"</p> + +<p>The professor's face wrinkled with the most matter-of-fact surprise.</p> + +<p>"Petticoat?" he piped querulously. "You are forgetting that the +petticoat is a vestment unknown in China."</p> + +<p>"Oh, in China! I was thinking of Paree," chuckled Billings, with a gay +air and another glance at me. Then his nerve withered under the +professor's blank stare, and he added hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"H'm! So it was in China you saw the other piece of silk?"</p> + +<p>The professor sighed profoundly. His reply came dreamily, regretfully:</p> + +<p>"In the Purple Forbidden City; but I was not quick enough."</p> + +<p>"Not quick enough?" Billings' echo was solicitous, sympathetic.</p> + +<p>"It was among the palace treasures, the imperial properties—things +unhappily lost to the world and civilization. Ah, gentlemen, I erred; I +committed a fatal mistake; it has been a matter of deep mortification to +me often!" His head wagged somberly.</p> + +<p>Billings looked a little embarrassed and rubbed his chin. "H'm!" he +coughed. "I guess we all slip a cog now and then. I know I've done +things myself I've been rather ash—"</p> + +<p>"I erred, gentlemen," went on the professor, "in trusting most +unscientifically to the false principle that the hand is quicker than +the eye. It is <i>not</i> true, for one of the guards saw me and my +carelessness cost me dearly: I not only lost the silk, but a singularly +beautiful gold thread altar cloth and a matchless amulet of <i>yu-chi +jade</i>, you know—white jade, at that, gentlemen, I assure you—a rare +bit of carving of the second century—real Khoton jade, too—no base +<i>fei-tsui</i>. But, alas! I lost them, my friends; they confiscated them, +and no doubt they are still there in their original places from which I +had—a—attached them. Do you wonder at my mortification? And then the +sacrifice of a whole year of planning, watching, bribing and perfecting +of preliminary disguise! All fruitless, fruitless!"</p> + +<p>The professor lifted and dropped his palms in eloquent deprecation.</p> + +<p>Billings' foot pressed mine. "Now, wouldn't that frost you?" he +whispered under his breath. Aloud he exclaimed indignantly:</p> + +<p>"Beastly outrage; it must have been painful."</p> + +<p>The professor started in the act of lifting the pajamas again.</p> + +<p>"Pain? I did not speak of the physical consequences. They were too +terrible to discuss. I—"</p> + +<p>The pajamas dropped from his hands and his eyes took on that +somewhere-else, far-off look, don't you know.</p> + +<p>"Sort of 'third degree' work, Professor?" Billings prodded him.</p> + +<p>The professor did not reply. His long, slim fingers swept his forehead +for an instant and he looked away again, his little eyes dilated. +Somehow it made one feel devilish uncomfortable, dash it!</p> + +<p>Billings cocked his eye at me and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Then +he deliberately kicked at the tabouret and sent its brass fixture set +clattering noisily across the room.</p> + +<p>The professor shivered, compressed his lips and blinked at us.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, gentlemen," he observed in some confusion. "Some one was +asking me—"</p> + +<p>"What they did to you when you lift—I mean when you lost +the—er—loot."</p> + +<p>He stared, shivered again and returned to the pajamas, muttering an +almost inaudible reply.</p> + +<p>We caught a word or two: "Long imprisonment—much physical +pain—unspeakable things—do not like to think of it—I—"</p> + +<p>His eyes closed. He folded his long, thin arms shudderingly. Billings +and I sat very still. The professor's voice came as from far away:</p> + +<p>"I could tell you of some experiences in China and in Tibet," he +murmured. "Perhaps I—some other time—such horrible details, I—"</p> + +<p>He leaned heavily upon the table with both hands. His head dropped +forward an instant.</p> + +<p>"No matter <i>now</i>," he muttered. "It was long, long ago!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE SPELL OF THE PAJAMAS</h3> + + +<p>"George!" breathed Billings, breaking a curious, tense silence.</p> + +<p>The professor suddenly faced us, holding up the pajamas with a gesture +of inquiry.</p> + +<p>"From a friend of Mr. Lightnut's in China," Billings explained.</p> + +<p>Aside, he whispered hurriedly: "Don't say a word about the rubies! You +heard him—murder, grand larceny or arson—it's all one to the old +gazabe! Anybody can see that. He doesn't let little things like those +stand in the way of getting what he wants!" He frowned warningly.</p> + +<p>"H'm! In the neck, Professor—I mean inside the collar," he said, +approaching the table—"there's some kind of freak lettering. Looks +foolish to me."</p> + +<p>The professor looked perplexed.</p> + +<p>"I mean, looks like it was done by some one who was batty—had wheels, +you know; probably some chink whose biscuit was drifty," floundered +Billings. "<i>You</i> understand!"</p> + +<p>The professor didn't. I knew that jolly well by the way he cocked his +head on one side, standing like a puzzled crow, don't you know.</p> + +<p>"Ha! I fear I do not as I should," he said with an apologetic cough. +"Perhaps I do not intelligently and logically follow your deductions +because your premises are inscrutable until I have seen the lettering. +Ah!"</p> + +<p>Out came glasses and lens again and he bent over the collar eagerly.</p> + +<p>"H'm! The <i>Hwuyi</i>, or ideographic characters, rather than the +ideophonetic!" He looked up at Billings and myself inquiringly. "Ha! I +trust we start together in accord upon that conclusion, eh, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>Billings nodded emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know," he declared firmly, and whispered to me +triumphantly. "Didn't I tell him it was idiotic?"</p> + +<p>The professor's lips moved rapidly and his visage twisted into a +horrible frown.</p> + +<p>"Why, why—a—what!" With mouth open, and gripping the pajamas tightly, +he glared at us each in turn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, impossible!" he rasped harshly, seizing the lens and bending again. +"Incredible—poof—absurd—tut, tut, what nonsense!"</p> + +<p>The glass swept the lines rapidly. Suddenly, with a cry, the professor +dropped the lens, a violent start almost lifting him from the floor.</p> + +<p>"<i>Papauhegopoulos!</i>" he cried explosively, and whirled on us again.</p> + +<p>Dash me, if I didn't fall back a step, his eyes rolled so wildly. But +Billings stood his ground, by Jove!</p> + +<p>"I didn't quite catch—" he began hesitatingly, angling his bristly red +head forward and smiling pleasantly.</p> + +<p>The professor seemed abashed of a sudden.</p> + +<p>"H'm! Your pardon, gentlemen! Merely an expletive—h'm—a Greek word I +indulge in sometimes when—when excited; a weakness, I might say. H'm!" +He seized his lens again.</p> + +<p>Billings' eyes yielded admiration.</p> + +<p>"Great Scott, Dicky!" he whispered in my ear. "See what a thing +education is! Think of being able to swear <i>in Greek</i>—in Greek, Dicky!" +Billings' voice expressed awe. "Why, he's got an Erie Canal skipper +backed clear off the board, and if he wanted to turn loose, I'll bet he +could make a certain railway president I know look like a two-spot!"</p> + +<p>At this point the professor struck his fist angrily upon the pajamas. +The face that he turned was unnaturally flushed and his chin quivered +excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous, I say! Poof!" He snapped his fingers. "Necromancy and +thaumaturgy transmitted in pajamas! Absurd!"</p> + +<p>"Piffle!" said Billings emphatically. "Don't know what they are," he +whispered to me, "but I'll take a hundred-to-one shot on anything he +says. The professor's a corker!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I remarked. "Perhaps Professor Huckleberry won't mind telling +us—"</p> + +<p>"What I think, gentlemen? What <i>could</i> I think but what I am sure is +your own conclusion—though you have generously and considerately left +me to form my own opinion—namely, that the claim of supernatural +attributes of these garments is preposterous. Enchanted pajamas! Haunted +pajamas! Poof! Nursery lore; children's fairy tales! Ghosts, gentlemen? +Tut, tut—nonsense!"</p> + +<p>He snorted indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Ghosts!" faltered Billings.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!" I rather gasped. Dash me if it didn't give me a turn, +rather!</p> + +<p>The professor shrugged his shoulders.</p> + + +<p>"What other interpretation is admissible, gentlemen?" he questioned +somewhat peevishly, taking up the coat. "Here we have the royal insignia +of the cruel emperor, Keë, and we note that these garments were given +some one in his court by the alleged sorcerer, Fuh-keen. Perhaps it was +revenge—perhaps some court plot in which Fuh-keen, for reasons of his +own, was an active participant; it is of no importance, that part of it. +So much for the first line: but now we come—"</p> + +<p>He paused to polish his spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said more cheerfully, "do our free translations of the +ideographs so far agree in essentials—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Like as two peas!" Billings declared with manifest enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The professor looked gratified and bowed.</p> + +<p>"Of course, the rendition is entirely a free one," he remarked. "You +must not expect too much."</p> + +<p>"Devilish handsome and clever of him!" I whispered to Billings, as the +professor proceeded to adjust his spectacles. "Dash it, I wish he'd let +me pay him, though."</p> + +<p>"Forget it!" hissed Billings. "Didn't he just say it was free? He's no +cheap skate, I tell you."</p> + +<p>The professor resumed:</p> + +<p>"Now we come to the second line, or, more strictly speaking, column," he +said, straightening impressively. "Here we find the astonishing claim +made that there will be a change or metamorphosis of any kind of animal +life that these habiliments enshroud. Um!"</p> + +<p>The great man breathed heavily and batted at us over his glasses.</p> + +<p>"<i>Credat Judaeus apella</i>—eh, gentlemen?" And he winked knowingly. +Dashed if he didn't almost catch me swallowing a yawn, too! For I hadn't +any idea what he was talking about or driving at, and, by Jove, I <i>did</i> +know I was getting devilish sleepy.</p> + +<p>The professor waved his glasses. "Did you ever read such a childish, +ridiculous, extravagant asseveration?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Ass—eh? I should say so!" I worked this off indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Tommyrot!" murmured Billings absently. He seemed thoughtful.</p> + +<p>I was thoughtful, too—wondering, by Jove, whether the professor would +go soon, so we could turn in and get the earlier start to-morrow up the +river. But chiefly I was wondering wistfully if Frances would still be +angry with me.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," broke in the professor's voice as he turned again to the +lettering, "to assert further that there will be a semblance—not +actual, gentlemen, mind you, but an optical illusion—taking the form of +some creature of the same kind that this silken tenement has previously +inclosed.</p> + +<p>"In other words, gentlemen, if I were to don these garments, I might no +longer look like myself, but like some one else who had worn them upon +some previous occasion—perhaps last night—perhaps a thousand years +ago. Eh? Is that what you understand?"</p> + +<p>He ducked again over the letters and came up, looking chagrined.</p> + +<p>"Moreover, I am forced to confess, gentlemen, that I fail to find a +system—any rule governing these ridiculous transformations. The +hypothesis is, therefore, that the alleged materializations merely +follow the arbitrary caprice of the magic." He shook his head. "Well, +gentlemen, I—really, I must laugh!"</p> + +<p>And he did! I hadn't caught the drift of what it was he thought he was +laughing at—I got the words, but I was too dashed sleepy to get the +sense. But I was awfully glad I understood this much—that what he was +attempting now <i>was</i> a laugh. I never would have known it. It was more +like a shrieking squeak—rusty hinge, you know, that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>"First-time-I've-laughed-in-twenty-years!" His shrill cackle ran a +treble scale that ended in high C. "I know you—you won't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"Believe it?" said Billings drily, "I'd bet a purse on it." He whispered +to me: "Don't need any affidavit; it <i>shows</i>. Sounds like a country +wagon on a down grade, brake on, and shrieking like a banshee."</p> + +<p>Behind me the door opened slightly. I turned to see Jenkins, looking +devilish chalky and a little wild-eyed. He lifted a coil of stout sash +cord questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Why, no!" I whispered through the opening. "He's just <i>laughing</i>. +Don't be a jolly ass!" And I closed the door sharply.</p> + +<p>The professor looked up from the pajamas, and folding his arms, eyed +Billings with a cunning leer.</p> + +<p>"I think I see," he said, leveling his finger. "You have both +demonstrated how nonsensical is the assertion in this inscription. +Doubtless you desire an experiment upon my part to confirm your proof of +its absurdity. <i>Reductio ad absurdum</i>—eh, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>Billings looked at me, but I couldn't help him. Why, dash it, I didn't +even know yet what the inscription was. And, by Jove, I didn't know +what experiments he wanted to try with the pajamas, but I didn't care. +He could boil them, if he wanted to, if he would only let us get to bed.</p> + +<p>So at random I just nodded eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Excellent!" The professor's chuckle sounded like dice rattling in a +metal box. "An excellent jest upon this fellow, Fuh-keen, to furnish a +demonstration by twentieth-century scientists of the presumption of his +claims of necromancy and thaumaturgy. You have done so—now I will do +so, in turn. Eh, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>I hadn't the ghost of an idea what he was talking about. Fact is, I was +thinking of my darling and wondering if she was asleep. By Jove, I +wished that <i>I</i> was!</p> + +<p>But a devilish queer look had come into Billings' face. He nodded, +gathered the pajamas into the professor's arms and patted him on the +shoulder in a way I thought offensively familiar.</p> + +<p>"You've got it, Professor!" he said, grinning.</p> + +<p>Then he whispered to me aside:</p> + +<p>"Not a word, Dicky—great Scott!" But he needn't have said that, even if +I had been mind-reader enough to guess what word he meant. It was about +all I could do to get out a last word to the professor as he went out +the door:</p> + +<p>"'Night!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>BILLINGS RAMBLES</h3> + + +<p>Ten minutes later I was almost wide awake, for Billings was talking over +long distance—and to <i>her</i>!</p> + +<p>But I did not like the way he did it.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Francis!" he bellowed. "Now you listen to what I'm telling +you—and do <i>just</i> as I tell you to, too—if you don't, I'll mash your +face when I come up there! You hear?"</p> + +<p>And he swore at her—yes, by Jove, <i>swore</i>!</p> + +<p>"Oh, here—I say now!" I remonstrated indignantly.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Dicky," and he waved his fat hand indifferently as he +hung up the receiver. "Francis wants to drive that car down for us in +the morning—Francis, now!" And his hands went out impressively.</p> + +<p>And dash it, I <i>was</i> impressed—I was delighted.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I cried. "Fine!" For I knew by that that she had forgiven me.</p> + +<p>"Fine!" snorted Billings. "You don't know what you're talking about! +Francis hasn't got sense enough to get a road engine ten feet without +smashing it, much less a car twenty-five miles."</p> + +<p>"Oh, look here!" I growled protestingly, "I don't like to hear you +talking about—er—Frances that way."</p> + +<p>Billings grunted and bit a cigar savagely without stopping to clip it. +He pulled fiercely at it a moment.</p> + +<p>"Kind of you, old chap," he exclaimed, "but you don't know our family as +<i>I</i> do. If Francis has got a headache <i>now</i>, I know that by morning—"</p> + +<p>"Headache?" I cried in dismay.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "So I understood over the 'phone—been getting at the +governor's private stock, I'd bet all I've got." He shook his head +gloomily. "No, sir; that car cost five thousand, and when you can't +trust people sober, how are you going to trust them drunk?"</p> + +<p>I sighed as I remembered the half pint of whisky she had taken—but, +dash it, I didn't care! It somehow didn't seem to make any difference in +my loving her. The only thing important, really, in the matter of the +car was that she might hurt herself. Billings didn't seem to think of +that. And yet, by Jove, she <i>wanted</i> to come! She <i>must</i>!</p> + +<p>"See here," I said coaxingly, for Billings seemed to have gone off in a +moody, brown study, "you must remember, old chap, your sister has been +cooped up there in Radcliffe for months. Why not let her have the run +down to the city and back? It will do her good, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said absently. "She's going to drive the car down."</p> + +<p>"Eh—what say?" I was sure I had not heard aright.</p> + +<p>"I say she's going to bring the car down—my chauffeur's sick, it +seems."</p> + +<p>I didn't wonder at that, but I <i>did</i> wonder at his sudden change.</p> + +<p>"Then you're not afraid—"</p> + +<p>"Afraid? I should say not! She can drive better than I can—better than +anybody in Westchester County!"</p> + +<p>"I see—I see!" I said in a low voice. And I <i>did</i> see, poor fellow! By +Jove, my spirits sank to zero.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>there's</i> somebody you can always rely on!" he enthused under his +changing mood. "Good thing in this blankety world there's <i>somebody</i> you +can rely on—among women, I mean. There's a girl with a purpose in +life—yes, sir! Never dances, plays bridge, nor uses slang—no, sir! And +what's more, in this cursed age, she's one woman who can go through life +and say she never touched a cigarette or a cocktail."</p> + +<p>"Of course—of course!" I agreed soothingly. By Jove, it was a devilish +sight better to have him talk this way about her. I wouldn't antagonize +anything he might say now. And I had turned his mind just by a simple +hint—the power of suggestion, you know. Just as I had myself forgotten +I was sleepy.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you never have met my sister, have you?" he puffed. "I mean +the one that's been up at Radcliffe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>never</i>!" I said promptly.</p> + +<p>"You will in the morning," said Billings, flicking his ash. "Not much to +look at—I mean not what you would call handsome—"</p> + +<p>I interrupted. "Oh, but I say," I exclaimed unguardedly, "how can you +say that? I think she's just beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" He stared so hard I was afraid I had got his mind off again. +"Thought you said you had never met her."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I never did," I stammered. "Mistake, you know."</p> + +<p>He went on musingly: "But I understand that her room-mate—who has come +home with her, by the way—is a peach. English girl, you know. They tell +me Francis is crazy about her beauty."</p> + +<p>Dashed if I could see how she could be, for, by Jove, I had seen her +myself. It was the frump! Peach? She was a <i>fright</i>!</p> + +<p>Here Billings' eyes hung on the ceiling as though he would bore through +it.</p> + +<p>"Say, do you know"—he dropped his voice, still looking up—"I hope the +old gazabe up there won't get wise to those rubies. Awfully careless of +us—forgot all about them. By George, I've half a mind to go up there +and get the pajamas back."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, no!" I protested, for I was getting sleepy again. "It's +the silk the old fellow was interested in; he wants to examine it—try +some experiments—something. He'll never think of the jolly rubies, you +know."</p> + +<p>Billings looked at me oddly. "That's so," he agreed. "Still, I know I +won't sleep, thinking about those rubies." Then he looked up at the +ceiling again and muttered: "Wonder if the old boy <i>will</i> have any +visitors to-night?"</p> + +<p>I yawned. I knew it wasn't likely—not with <i>him</i>!</p> + +<p>Billings rose. "Well, I'll get along over to the club, old chap. Now +mind, the car will call for you about nine. Then you are to pick me +up—that is, unless I should come over here. And, oh, say, Dicky!" He +turned back from the door where Jenkins waited with his hat and cane. +"Speaking of pajamas—er—what do you think of black ones—eh?"</p> + +<p>By Jove, I got red—could just feel it, you know!</p> + +<p>"Ever see a suit of black silk pajamas?" Billings chuckled.</p> + +<p>Now for it! "I—I—never did," I managed to get out.</p> + +<p>"Never heard of any myself before," Billings gurgled. "But great idea, +don't you think? Good thing, traveling—Pullmans, hotels—that sort of +thing—eh? Just got them to-day—ordered two weeks ago."</p> + +<p>By Jove, what a relief! I felt myself breathing again.</p> + +<p>"Wish you would stay," I said, for I felt uneasy about him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," carelessly; "all my traps are over there, you know." He +smiled. "To say nothing of the new pajamas."</p> + +<p>Standing in the door, he looked upward again, twirling his cane. His +head shook dubiously.</p> + + +<p>"Could kick myself about those rubies," he grumbled. "Just half a mind +to go up there—" He shrugged. "Oh, well, good night, old chap; see you +in the morning."</p> + +<p>I murmured some reply as I followed him without. Then I stood a moment +looking down the shaft after he had descended.</p> + +<p>"Hope he'll be all right in the morning," I mused. "And hope his +infernal mood won't shift round again as to Frances!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE COLLAPSE OF BILLINGS</h3> + + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i>, Mr. Lightnut?"</p> + +<p>I stood, cap in hand, one foot on the sidewalk before the Kahoka, the +other on the running-board of the car—a big double-tonneau red whale +sort of affair. This was as far as I had been admitted to the vehicle.</p> + +<p>For the frump was sitting there behind the steering wheel, looking down +at me in a nasty, sidewise fashion. Ever have them do you that way? +Besides, I somehow felt that she had a feeling toward me as a man, an +unvoiced protest against my existence at all. It found expression in her +suspicious, sniffy manner. Dash it, I just hated that woman from the +start! I felt it was bad enough, her English clumsiness in getting the +introductions twisted as I advanced to meet the car, but now I was of +half a mind that she had done it purposely. Could see with half an eye +that she was determined to make trouble about yesterday.</p> + +<p>"Haven't we met before, Mr. Lightnut?" she had asked.</p> + +<p>But it struck me that Frances glanced at me with a kind of wistful +light in her lovely eyes, and I saw that the game was to lie like a +gentleman—that sort of thing, you know. And, by Jove, I was getting +kind of used to it now, anyhow—I mean since I had broken the ice last +night. Not hard at all, though, after a few goes—really!</p> + +<p>So I stood out that I had never had the pleasure, you know—all that +sort of polite rot. And all the time felt like a jolly cad, too, meeting +a girl with that, when <i>she</i> remembered! But, by Jove, it was worth +sacrificing the frump fifty times over just to see Frances' face +brighten and note her faint flush and smile as she looked at me. For, +dash it, I knew then I had done the right thing!</p> + +<p>"Um!" grunted the frump, compressing her lips and looking at my darling. +"There's one good thing: the experience with Mr. Smith will teach +Francis a lesson!"</p> + +<p>The cat! Nice sort of host!</p> + +<p>But the dear girl just laughed—how I remembered that laugh!</p> + +<p>"Poor Francis!" she said lightly. "Do you know," she added, "I believe I +can forgive a Harvard man almost anything, Mr. Lightnut."</p> + +<p>By Jove! The angel! And before I knew what I was doing or thought about +the frump, I had stretched out a hand to her, looking her straight in +the eye and smiling. She hesitated an instant only, then laughed, and I +felt her little fingers just brush my palm—but it was enough.</p> + +<p>She flushed a little shyly and addressed the frump.</p> + +<p>"Are we going to keep Mr. Lightnut standing like this all day?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Half on earth and half in heaven—like what's-his-name's coffin," I +suggested. Devilish good, that, don't you think? <i>She</i> thought so, for +she opened the door herself as the frump turned, murmuring some silly +thing about China and the open door to America. What did China have to +do with it?</p> + +<p>And it was just then that Jenkins bolted wildly from the building.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut—quick, sir! Mr. Billings, sir!"</p> + +<p>I thought of the telephone right off, but he just caught my arm. First +time ever knew Jenkins to take a liberty.</p> + +<p>"Come quick, sir!" he exclaimed. "He's up-stairs and, oh, off his nut, +sir—<i>awful</i>!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I gasped. "Excuse me—will see—come right back and tell +you—I feared this last night." And I rushed to the elevator with +Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"He's in them black pajamas he was talking about," said Jenkins +gloomily, "and he's run the perfesser off. Leastwise, he ain't there, +and his man can't get Mr. Billings to go. He came down for me, but I +couldn't do a thing with him, either."</p> + +<p>I knew—I understood. It was the dwelling of his mind upon the rubies! +He had gone back in the night for them—in his sleep, for all I knew. +But I thought most likely awake, for recent experience with him showed +me that he didn't think anything of wandering around the neighborhood in +his pajamas.</p> + +<p>The janitor's pale face met us at the landing.</p> + +<p>"I've sent for the police, sir, and it would be a good idea, don't you +think, if you could get him away before they come. I don't want to get +Mr. Billings into no trouble."</p> + +<p>"Good idea," I agreed. "We'll just rush him to the car—but, h'm!"</p> + +<p>I suddenly remembered he was in pajamas. It might be all right to +Billings to wander around in public streets and vehicles in his night +things, but it certainly wouldn't do under the present circumstances. +<i>He</i> might not care, but then, there were the feelings of the girls to +consider. And besides, dash it, I had some sort of idea it was against +the law.</p> + +<p>I stood there in the corridor, puzzling.</p> + +<p>"We must get his clothes," I said to Jenkins. "No, wait, <i>wait</i>—not +time! I want to get him away before the police get here. +Um—dressing-robe—bathrobe—can't you get something of that +sort—quick?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins shook his head distractedly.</p> + +<p>"Thought of that, sir—no use—nothing anywhere around here would +half-way meet on Mr. Billings."</p> + +<p>Here the professor's man interposed.</p> + +<p>"Please hurry, sir; he's going through the professor's papers and +things!" I dashed for the apartment, shouting to Jenkins to get a bundle +of rugs and blankets to the car.</p> + +<p>Billings was standing by the window looking at a glass thermometer that +he had just withdrawn from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Um!" he grunted complacently. "Ninety-seven and a quarter—my usual +healthy subnormal temperature. Pulse sixty-five—respiration, +twenty-four and two-fifths—excellent, excellent! I am myself. Ha!" And +he whirled triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, advancing eagerly and rubbing his hands. "It is you! You +have heard, then? Marvelous, isn't it—wholly incredible! But do you +know"—here he plucked at my shirt front, took a pinch, as it were, just +as he had seen the professor do—"I can not find any transmigration. The +materialization appears to be wholly optical."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," I said anxiously, for I knew he was talking about the +rubies; "<i>we</i> don't care." I smiled brightly. "Let's go down and see the +car—<i>nice</i> car!" And I tried to get hold of his fat side, but missed +it.</p> + +<p>"Car?" Billings looked puzzled. Then his face broke into a smile. +"<i>Carpe diem</i>—eh, am I not right? True, true! Whither you say." He +looked about on a table. "Um—my notes, now," he muttered; and he caught +up a small book and a pencil.</p> + +<p>The professor's man protested: "Professor Doozenberry don't like—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, let him have them!" I exclaimed, for Billings was already +chuckling happily and writing in the little blank book.</p> + +<p>"Come on," I pleaded, catching a fold of the pajamas. "Wouldn't you like +to come get some clothes on?"</p> + +<p>He drew back in alarm. "No, no—not yet—not until I complete my notes," +was his crazy answer. "You know: <i>sublata causa, tollitur effectus</i>!" +And he looked as though he thought this would finish me.</p> + +<p>"But your friend," he exclaimed suddenly, as he allowed me to throw a +blanket about his shoulders and we moved out of the door, "the gentleman +I met last night—Billings—is not that the name?"</p> + +<p>I looked at him miserably as we entered the car to go down.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, Billings, old chap," I protested earnestly, "don't you know +me?" I pointed to the little panel of mirror in the cage. "Don't you +know <i>you</i> are Billings? Can't you <i>see</i>?"</p> + +<p>His fat head pecked at the glass for an instant. Then he looked at me +with eager, batting eyes. He chuckled hoarsely, gurglingly, and out came +the note-book and pencil from his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Better and better," he muttered. "Now, if we could only go to <i>him</i>!" +He caught my arm. "In the interest of this investigation of scientific +phenomena, would he consider a call intrusive—could we not seek your +friend, Mr. Billings?"</p> + +<p>"It's all right, you know," I gently reassured him. "Yes, we're going to +him—going right there. Just a little ride, you know."</p> + +<p>By Jove, the way he cackled made my heart ache! I whispered to Jenkins +to run ahead and prepare the ladies. But the first thing we saw as the +cage hit the bottom was a woman—and, dash it, the frump from China!</p> + +<p>She gave a little scream and fell on Billings' neck, almost bearing him +to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jacky, Jacky!" she sobbed.</p> + +<p>By Jove, I almost fell myself! So <i>that</i> was the way the wind lay! And I +had never even so much as suspected. <i>That</i> was why he had raved so +about her beauty! Beauty! Poor old Jack! If I had been sad about him +before, it was a devilish sight worse now—</p> + +<p>Worse? Why, dash it, she <i>kissed</i> him!</p> + + +<p>And to see him standing there, kind of batting and rolling his eyes and +looking like a girl does when she's trying a strange piece of candy out +of the box—oh, it just broke me all up!</p> + +<p>No wonder he was crazy! Why, dash it, he would <i>have</i> to be crazy!</p> + +<p>He was muttering to himself.</p> + +<p>"Remarkable!" I heard. "Singularly sensate and exhilarating! Now, I +never would have thought—um!"</p> + +<p>And then he very deliberately took her head between his hands +and—kissed her. Then he looked upward thoughtfully and did it +again—like a chicken drinks water—<i>you</i> know!</p> + +<p>And then while we—that is, Jenkins and I—were trying to urge him on, +out came the note-book again and he scribbled rapidly, muttering +audibly: "Labial osculation—extraordinary stimulation—sensatory +ganglia—mucous membrane—"</p> + +<p>"Police!" I whispered brutally in the frump's ear. "Better let's get him +away!" And, by Jove, that woke her out of her trance! In two minutes she +had cajoled him to the car and we had him inside on the cushions. We +bunched blankets and rugs about him to hide the pajamas.</p> + +<p>"Jacky, dear," gushed the Chinese freak, "wouldn't you like for me to +sit by you and hold your poor hand?"</p> + +<p>It looked as if he would.</p> + +<p>The frump turned to me. "Can you drive the car, Mr. Lightnut?"</p> + +<p><i>Could</i> I? Well, I would show her! Especially as Frances had changed to +the front as she saw us bringing out Billings.</p> + +<p>"Take the train—get Billings' things from the club," I called to +Jenkins. "Sharp, now! And here, unhook that number there on the +back—give it here!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins hesitated. "I think there's a heavy fine, sir," he hinted.</p> + +<p>I snapped my fingers at him and he jumped to obey.</p> + +<p>"Worse things than a jolly fine," I said, looking at poor Billings +smiling crazily over the frump. I threw the number plate into the car.</p> + +<p>And just in time!</p> + +<p>Around the corner whirled a policeman—and, by Jove, no less than that +fat Irishman, O'Keefe! With him was the professor's man.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me," panted the officer; "I know my—"</p> + +<p>And then he gave a shout and sprang for the car.</p> + +<p>"It's that fellow that was prowling around the station house!" he +yelled. "Here, stop there!"</p> + +<p>But I didn't want to. For one thing, we were a half-block away, and I +had badly coasted a towel supply wagon and scattered the wares of a +push-cart across three sidewalks.</p> + +<p>My cap went flying as we skidded a corner, and I was devilish glad, for +the inertia threw Frances' head almost against mine and I felt the +tickling brush of a little hair wisp as it swept my nose.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were dancing with excitement. She looked back, waving her hand +at the figure of O'Keefe trotting from around the corner, and her +laughter pealed joyously, deliciously in my ear.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think American men are great—are <i>wonderful</i>!" she cried, +striking her little hands together. "Especially Harvard men—and +especially—" She stopped with the faintest catch.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I cried. "Do you <i>mean</i> it?"</p> + +<p>And for the briefest instant the hands were three; but her scream +brought me back to earth just in time to save the lives of a man and a +boy. Devilish ungrateful, too, for I could see the man, three blocks +behind, and still shaking his fist. The way with these pedestrians!</p> + +<p>At Fifty-ninth Street we caromed with a hansom trotting too leisurely +across the plaza, and I listened for nearly a block to the remarks of a +bicycle cop before he dropped behind. What dashed me not a little was +Billings' indifference to the record I was making for his car—didn't +seem to care a jolly hang.</p> + +<p>The frump was still hanging on him in a way to make you sick, and cooing +and going on in a nervous, half-hysterical way I never would have +thought her able to chirp up to. And Billings was holding her hand!</p> + +<p>"Hello!" I called to him, just after we clipped Yonkers.</p> + +<p>He looked up at me, smiling and nodding.</p> + +<p>"Feel all right now, old man?" I inquired cheerily.</p> + +<p>Billings looked at me hard, and then, dash it, he <i>winked</i>! And I began +to wonder, by Jove, if it was just plain drunk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>MY DARLING IS SLANDERED</h3> + + +<p>Three miles south of Irvington, Billings jumped wildly in the air and +yelled for me to stop.</p> + +<p>"A <i>coleopteran</i>!" he shrieked excitedly as I throttled down. "A +<i>coleopteran</i> struck me in the eye—one of the <i>hydrophilidae</i> family!"</p> + +<p>And hurling aside rugs and blankets, he twisted open the door and in a +moment was in the road running back. It was then I went back to the +crazy theory, for it was an open stretch of road and there wasn't a soul +in sight. But it was so funny to see his fat figure waddling along there +in the pajamas and bedroom slippers that Frances and I just threw back +our heads and screamed. Couldn't help it, by Jove!</p> + +<p>And the frump, jogging along behind, looked just as funny. I wasn't +alarmed, for I knew she could control him. And, dash it, she did it by +humoring him! For we saw her twist her veil about the fork of the stick +he extended to her, and both of them went to slapping wildly at the air +and the ground. Presently they both came waddling back, she with a +butterfly and he with a bug which he was craning at with a lens he had +fished from his sleeve somewhere. He was trying to do this and at the +same time hold together a great armful of gaudy weeds he had gathered.</p> + +<p>Billings got in and then I helped her. "Awfully jolly good of you to +humor his crazy whims," I whispered gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Crazy!" she ejaculated, one foot on the running-board. "Why, he's just +getting sane! He's been a born fool all his life! And now, Jacky, as you +were saying of the <i>antennae</i>—" And she flopped eagerly by him and +together they bent over the glass.</p> + +<p>It was rum, but I was getting along so swimmingly with Frances that I +didn't much care what they did. Seemed to be only about a minute more +and we were clipping through the curves of the Wolhurst park—Frances +pointed the way—and had slowed down under the <i>porte-cochère</i>.</p> + +<p>The frump whispered to the man who opened the door.</p> + +<p>"As quietly as possible, Wilkes," she said, "and without his father +seeing him."</p> + +<p>"The judge is away, miss," said the man. "He drove down to the village +with Senator Soakem, who had to catch a train back to Albany; but I'm +looking for him every—"</p> + +<p>"Be quick, then," jerked the frump. "You know what to do."</p> + +<p>"I guess I do, miss," answered the butler gloomily. "I've <i>had</i> to do it +often enough—Perkins and me. A good cold souse—that's the thing—and +then bed. <i>I</i> know!"</p> + +<p>Billings waved his hand to the frump as he mounted the stairway inside. +And then, dash it, he kissed his fingers.</p> + +<p>"<i>Vale!</i>" he chirped, leaning over the marble balustrade. "<i>Vale, sed +spero non semper!</i> I will resume the discussion <i>in propria persona</i>."</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, if she didn't come back at him quick as lightning, and +with his own gibberish, too:</p> + +<p>"<i>Confido et conquiesco!</i>" she cooed, waving her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Oh, it was tragical, dash it—that was the word, tragical! And yet the +frump looked almost happy. And as for Frances, except for being amused, +her brother's condition didn't seem to trouble her spirit at all. But +then, dash it, I remembered she was used to him this way. She did not +even wait, but with a bright smile and a murmured word to me, left her +friend and myself to await Wilkes' report.</p> + +<p>The frump kind of glared down the deserted vista of the fine old hall +and shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Everybody loafing, as usual," she muttered sourly, and she hurled her +coat at the carven back of a great cathedral chair—and missed it.</p> + +<p>It was clear that her type scorned conventionalities and knew how to +make themselves thoroughly at home.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll be made comfortable here, Mr. Lightnut," she said, +peeling a glove with a jerk, "but I have my doubts."</p> + +<p>And she gave a kind of hollow laugh.</p> + +<p>I shifted distressfully. "Oh, really now," I began protestingly, but she +marched right over me:</p> + +<p>"I can assure you that a guest <i>here</i> earns a martyr's crown," she said, +lifting her eyebrows. Then she shook her head, her lips compressed.</p> + +<p>I coughed. <i>Couldn't</i> say the thing I <i>wanted</i> to say, you know—seemed +too devilish rude. Just have to stand it when they talk that way. +Pugsley says best thing to do is to purse up your lips and bob your +head—you don't have to mean it.</p> + +<p>So I just went through all this and threw in a shrug, too. Thought no +use having her mad and working against me with Frances. Catch the idea? +Simple thing, you know, just to play her with my <i>finesse</i>.</p> + +<p>"Awfully tiresome, these country places," I said sympathetically. I +screwed my glass at a couple of footmen who came into view at the far +end of the hall, and who were whispering and chuckling about something. +"Things seem to be run a bit loose, don't you know—that's a fact. Don't +mind for myself, but fancy a girl might find it rather trying visiting +here."</p> + +<p>By Jove, how she opened her eyes at me—surprised, I knew, at finding me +such a devilish keen observer. My sympathy touched her, too, for her +eyeballs shone moist of a sudden and I saw her lip tremble as she +stared. Then she swallowed hard and slapped her gloves sharply across +her palm.</p> + +<p>"It's Francis that's to blame for that sort of thing," she rasped, +nodding down the hall.</p> + +<p>"Frances?" I ejaculated in protest. "Oh, here, I <i>say</i>, now—"</p> + +<p>"You don't <i>know</i> Francis, Mr. Lightnut!" Her jaw grounded with a snap, +and what a look she gave me! "Wait till you do—you just wait!" And eyes +and hands lifted to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>I coughed again.</p> + +<p>The cat! And <i>this</i> was my darling's friend!</p> + +<p>But her claws raked on: "I tell you you just can't be familiar with +grooms and hail-fellow-well-met with footmen without demoralizing +them—and that's what Francis does." She jerked this out viciously, and +while I gasped, went on: "<i>You</i> know very well, Mr. Lightnut, if you +play cards and drink and carouse with your men-servants until two or +three o'clock in the morning, you can't reasonably look for respect from +them." She breathed heavily. "The trouble is, Francis has no +self-respect—no <i>pride</i>!"</p> + +<p>Her uplifted hands fumbled and jerked the hat from her tossing head. +"Sometimes," she breathed through her teeth, "when I think of Francis, I +feel like I'd like to—" The words died behind her teeth as she ground +them—yes, <i>ground</i> them. She jabbed the pins into the hat savagely and +at random and tossed it after the coat. And this time she put the +ball—in a big Benares jar that stood against the wall.</p> + +<p>But I was counting forty-four!</p> + +<p>Ever try that when you were angry and wanted to insult somebody? +Preacher told us about it once at the old Harvard Union, and <i>I</i> thought +it a devilish good idea. Gives you time, you know, to think up the +things to say that otherwise you would be turning over in your mind +afterward as the scathing, clever things you <i>might</i> have said.</p> + +<p>So, by the twenty-eighth count, I had her; and jamming my hands almost +through my pockets, I faced her with a withering frown.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, if I were you, Miss—er—" Dash me if I hadn't forgotten her +name! "If you feel that way, <i>I</i> don't see why the de—H'm! I mean why +do you stay on here and—er—<i>sacrifice</i> yourself?" I drawled this in +the most devilish sarcastic way! "I'd pack my jolly trunk and get as far +away as I could."</p> + +<p>I added earnestly—coaxingly: "And <i>stay</i> away, you know!"</p> + +<p>And I took a deep breath, for I expected to see her wilt or go straight +up in the air. I knew it was a toss-up for either.</p> + +<p>Not she! She just twisted a sour smile at me.</p> + +<p>"Ummh!" she grunted. "Perhaps you don't know that Francis has suggested +that to me several times—frankly and rudely—when I have complained. +That may surprise you."</p> + +<p>It did not surprise me—not at all, by Jove! What <i>did</i> surprise me was +that my Frances had ever allowed this jolly female barnacle to fasten on +her in this way. Remembered a remark of Jack Ellsworth's about some +bounder visiting at his house that he said "the old man couldn't pry +loose with a crowbar." Devilish coarse way to express it, I had thought; +but now I understood.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The frump was <i>this</i> sort! Poor Frances! Poor Frances!</p> + +<p>I was just considering the advisability of tactfully trying to shame +this girl into taking the next train, or whatever it is, back to China, +when suddenly my devilish active mind hit right on the explanation of +her conduct! Bores me, you know, the way things come to me at times when +I am not looking for them at all. Still, this time, I was rather glad. +Might confound her and put her on the run if she knew that a shrewd, +eagle-eyed man of the world had penetrated her mask.</p> + +<p>So I coughed significantly in lieu of using her dashed name, and lifted +my monocle so I could bore her sidewise through narrowed eyes.</p> + +<p>"Dare say you've put up with Frances though for <i>Jack's</i> sake!" I let +her have it coldly, deliberately. "Brother Jack has been a sort of +compensation—<i>that's</i> it, eh?"</p> + +<p>And I shot her a foxy wink!</p> + + +<p>That is, I <i>almost</i> did—pulled up, though, just on the brink. By Jove, +gave me cold marrows for an instant, thinking how I might have +compromised myself, you know. Besides, I could spare her <i>that</i>—had +rubbed it in so devilish raw, anyhow. That is, you would have thought +so; for that sort of thing said to a normal Yankee girl would have +stirred her pride or unchained the jolly lightnings from her eyes—<i>you</i> +know!</p> + +<p>But dashed if this imported freak didn't suddenly nod with a sort of +chokey snuffle and reach out her hand for mine.</p> + +<p>"How you <i>do</i> understand!" she crooned unblushingly, and she leaked a +big cold tear down upon my hand and let another splash my cuff—and +Jenkins hadn't come with my things yet, dash it! "I <i>do</i> try to be +patient about Francis for Jacky's sake—he asked me to: and I do try not +to mind the way things are run, but oh, Mr. Lightnut, what this place +needs is a <i>head</i>!" She almost squeezed my hand, and blinked damply at +me out of her pasty face. "And then," she snuffled, "I do so want to +make a home for my father and my brothers. They have <i>never</i> known what +it was to have a <i>home</i>—think of it!"</p> + +<p>I didn't want to think of it—besides, I didn't believe it. I knew +people <i>have</i> to have homes, dash it—it's the law. If they go in for +that sort of thing—not having homes, you know—they're arrested. Still, +in a rum country like China, it might be different, of course. However, +I didn't take time to give this much thought, for I was so devilish +floored—irritated, you know—at the girl's cold-blooded, brazen +effrontery.</p> + +<p>By Jove, I wondered if I <i>could</i> pink her!</p> + +<p>I wasn't sure. I had gone at her in a cunning, subtle way: the hand of +steel in the glove of what's-its-name, you know; the curving, velvet +thrust of the needle rapier—all that sort of rot—and she had merely +given me back a Roland for my what's-its-name. I felt a bit dashed, you +know.</p> + +<p>Idea seized me that perhaps, though, something more brutally direct +would—</p> + +<p>"See here," I said, fixing my monocle sternly and folding my arms—for I +had got back my hand under pretense of fixing my part. "You don't mean +to say that Jack would ever ask <i>you</i> to take charge here!"</p> + +<p>Rather plain and direct, that, don't you think? Sort of heavy broadsword +stroke, you know. But she took it full and clean—never winced or turned +a hair. Just looked thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said slowly. "Jacky says it'll have to come to that some +day—<i>some</i> arrangement. Neither of us ever want to marry."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>And my monocle dropped!</p> + +<p>Couldn't chirp another word, you know! Just stood there, round-mouthed +and staring blankly—kind of fascinated, too, dash it—and wondering +what particular freak cult <i>hers</i> was. And I felt myself getting redder +and redder every second! Then the awful thought came to me that this +advanced and emancipated dowd had been the friend and companion of my +darling—that her poisonous influence had been felt for months; was +being exerted still. I wondered how she could look me in the face, but +she <i>wasn't</i>. No, she had switched her head around and was glaring at +the servants down the hall. So I just swayed there, trying to think, and +boring at the back of her head, till it came to me dully that her hair +didn't match her what-you-call-'ems, and my dashed brain just seized on +and clung to this like a drowning man does to a what-you-may-call-it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Thom</i>-as!" the frump exploded.</p> + +<p>One of the footmen who was doubled over, red-faced and writhing, in the +exercise of some pleasantry with his companion, straightened with an +aggrieved air. He ambled toward us.</p> + +<p>"Some specimens that Mr. Billings gathered—plants and foliage; he left +them in the car," jerked the frump. "See they are cared for."</p> + +<p>The man nodded indifferently and slouched away.</p> + +<p>Her frown gloomed after him and her voice snapped at his laggard heels:</p> + +<p>"And Flora—send Flora to me. Is she asleep somewhere?"</p> + +<p>She faced me with an acid grimace and shrug.</p> + +<p>"You see how it is here, Mr. Lightnut," she grumbled querulously; "but +<i>you</i> understand!"</p> + +<p>Understand! By Jove, yes—I thought I <i>did</i>! I could see that the fellow +was just sullen under the too free and easy assumptions of a guest from +whom little had been experienced in the way of an occasional douceur. +And dashed if I blamed him!</p> + +<p>But I murmured some jolly rubbish, hoping every instant that Wilkes +would come and lead me away.</p> + +<p>"That's the way with them all here, from the housekeeper down," she went +on gloomily. "They take advantage of the fact that the mistress of the +house is abroad and the master absorbed and busy." Her voice quickened +sharply: "Then do you think they care two pins about the authority of a +silly girl who has been allowed to grow up untrained and ignorant of the +first a b c of anything practical?"</p> + +<p>I felt my face tingling.</p> + +<p>"See here—Oh, dash it all!" I protested. "That's not <i>fair</i>, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Fair?" She bit the word out of the air and just glared at me. "Why, +they know she's a <i>fool</i>!"</p> + +<p>I opened my mouth two or three times; then swallowed helplessly and grew +red. Somehow, it came back to me—a time when I was a little boy and my +nurse had been so shocked when I said "shucks!" I remembered how that +night she read to me a tract about swear words and told me how when I +grew up to be a big man, I would have to choose whether I was ever going +to learn to swear or not. She said that if I didn't choose right, a day +would come when I would be—oh, <i>so</i> sorry!</p> + +<p>And now, dash it, the day had come and I knew that she was right! For I +<i>was</i> sorry, by Jove!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>A MESSAGE AND A WARNING</h3> + + +<p>"It's all right, miss," Wilkes reported; "at least, I hope so. Perkins +is with him—we've been trying to persuade him to have a bath and lie +down. But I don't know—"</p> + +<p>He shook his head gloomily, then turned to me.</p> + +<p>"If you will come with me, sir—" Then he added, and it seemed a +question: "You must have made a quick run, sir. Seems like only a few +minutes since we got Mr. Jack's 'phone message." His voice dropped: +"From the station house, you know."</p> + +<p>"Eh—what's that?" I paused with my foot on the first tread of the +stairway. "Jack's 'phone message—from the station house?" I repeated +blankly. "What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>Wilkes coughed reproachfully. "Why, you know, sir, he told about being +arrested in front of the Kahoka Apartments. He mentioned that it was +about—h'm!" He stole a furtive backward glance at the frump, but she +was enjoying herself berating a fat girl she addressed as "Flora." He +looked at me eloquently and whispered: "About his—h'm—stealing some +black silk pajamas."</p> + +<p>My monocle dropped, and I almost did myself.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I gasped feebly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Wilkes looked up at the paneled ceiling and stroked his +chin. "He mentioned that they found them—or <i>thought</i> they found them +in the bag he had with him."</p> + +<p>"But he's got them <i>on</i>, and they are his own," I managed to get out.</p> + +<p>Wilkes' face lightened understandingly. "Oh-h, I <i>see</i>, sir," he said, +nodding with his jolly chin hanging; "so <i>that's</i> how you got him +off—I was a-wondering!" He looked at me, his fishy old eyes twinkling +admiration. "Very neat, if I may say, sir—making, as it were, a sort of +alibi—<i>very</i> neat, indeed! Of course, when they puts 'em on him, they +see for themselves they are his'n, and not any lady's what had been +stolen—Oh, <i>I</i> see!"</p> + +<p>Dash me, if <i>I</i> did! The only thing I saw was that it must have been +Jenkins that had telephoned and the message had been twisted. What he +<i>had said</i>, of course, was that Billings had <i>almost</i> been arrested. But +the police finding the pajamas in his bag—I did not like that. Could it +be that, after all, Billings <i>had</i> found his sister's pajamas in the +guest-room and had quietly confiscated them? It looked devilishly, +ominously like it! Or perhaps he, himself, had recovered them from Foxy +Grandpa, and with more delicacy than I thought him capable of, had kept +the whole matter to himself. One thing only was certain: the sleuth +hounds of the law, stimulated by the extravagant reward I had offered +over the telephone, <i>had</i> run down and recovered <i>her pajamas</i>. It was a +relief that they were out of his hands, anyhow—<i>I</i> could get them +again, but <i>he</i> couldn't. By Jove!</p> + +<p>Alone in my room, I stood before the mirror, hands in pockets and +rocking on my toes—kind of smiling, you know—and thinking what a +daredevil, reckless thing it had been—clever, too, dash it—in getting +them away from old Jack, and right under his nose. By Jove, I felt a bit +proud about it—sort of exultation, don't you know—and I had just got +off a wink at myself, when Wilkes appeared again.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, sir, for disturbing you, but Mr. Billings is acting so queer, +we are afraid to cross him; and he just insisted I take his message to +you at once."</p> + +<p>"Message?" I repeated, sobering.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—something about some pajamas—"</p> + +<p>"Pajamas?" I faltered, and I dropped into a chair. "Oh!"</p> + +<p>Wilkes looked grave. "Pajamas seem to be the thing with him this time, +sir—it's the queerest go! That's a <i>new</i> one, <i>that</i> is!" He shifted +contemplatively. "The last time it was lizards and the time before blue +dachshunds, but his main stand-by, so to speak, is piebald +rattlesnakes—them we're <i>used</i> to; but this new turn, pajamas, gets +me!" He shook his head dubiously. "And he won't take his off—you can't +get him to; he just gets kinder peevish and goes off on the queerest +streak of freak talk you ever heard. Perkins tried to coax him to take +a bath, but he said he never had taken a bath in his life—and he +called Perkins something awful—some name about a yard long. It +squelched Perkins so that he—"</p> + +<p>"But the <i>message</i>?" I suggested nervously.</p> + +<p>"I was just a-coming to that, sir. He asks me if I knew whether you were +still on the place; and when I said you were, he says to me kinder +excited and impressive like: 'Well, you go to him at once—<i>at +once</i>—and tell him I'm on the trail of the mystery of those pajamas, +and I'll soon know as much about 'em as <i>he</i> does. Just tell him +that—<i>he'll</i> know what I mean.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I gasped shortly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Wilkes nodded, "but that ain't quite all. He says: 'Tell Mr. +Lightnut that when I first saw those pajamas in his rooms—'" Wilkes +paused inquiringly. "Did you say something, sir?"</p> + +<p>I had not—I had only groaned!</p> + +<p>He went on, repeating as by rote: "'When I found and took them away, I +was curious and amused, but skeptical—firmly skeptical—of there being +any dark mystery about them. But now I know I let myself be deceived and +I mean to get at the bottom of the whole thing.'"</p> + +<p>Wilkes seemed to kind of waver and fade before me, and then go out like +a candle. Then he came back into view and I heard his voice again:</p> + +<p>"'And what's more, you tell him I say—'"</p> + +<p>The butler hesitated and seemed embarrassed—his heavy jowls reddened a +little. He looked beyond me and coughed.</p> + +<p>"Of course <i>you</i> know, sir," he said, shifting uneasily, "Mr. Billings +ain't exactly himself, so to speak, so you mustn't mind. Fact is—if I +<i>may</i> say so—he's got the most considerable case of jimmies I ever see +him with, so—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>go</i> on!" I breathed miserably.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—h'm!" Wilkes heaved distressfully, then drove doggedly ahead: +"Oh, well, sir, what he <i>says</i> was that it was his duty, he thought, to +tell the family the truth about those pajamas, so that they would know +that the man they were harboring under their roof wasn't what he seemed +to be." His gaze bored higher over my head, his voice tapering off so +faintly I could hardly hear.</p> + +<p>But I heard all right! Oh, yes, I got the full devilish force of it; but +I couldn't speak. My dry lips touched wordlessly and I hunched deep into +the hollow of the big leather rocker. I would have liked to get even +deeper, and I studied wistfully a tiny floor-crack under the radiator. I +thought I could make it if I were alone!</p> + +<p>Wilkes coughed again. I winced—there was evidently more!</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he murmured, as I cut a quick glance upward. "He <i>did</i> say +further that if you weren't satisfied, though, and would prefer another +trial—"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" I bounded out of the chair. "What's that? Oh, dash it, <i>yes</i>—I +would, by Jove!"</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir." Wilkes looked relieved, himself. "In that +case, he said he was willing to experiment again—that was his +word—<i>experiment</i>. He said he wouldn't detain you here on <i>his</i> +account, but he would <i>have</i> to ask you to stay another day or two while +he made his observations."</p> + +<p>It was a devilish cold shoulder, but I had no choice. Fact was, by Jove, +I was so jolly glad for <i>that</i> chance, and for being trusted again by +Billings, even in this half-hearted way, that I just ground my pride +under my heel—why, dash it, I would have ground anything under my heel +for <i>her</i>! I was as happy as a bird, and life was again one grand, sweet +what's-its-name.</p> + +<p>"Tell him certainly, Wilkes, and thank him—don't forget to thank him." +And I believe I wrung his hand. "And—er—wait, Wilkes—couldn't you use +a tenner?" I checked him on the threshold. "Let's see—no, that's a +twenty—say, take <i>that</i>; take them both—<i>thank</i> you, Wilkes!—and +there's a five, too. Oh, yes, you <i>must</i> take it all—I have no use for +it, you know—never <i>would</i> use those particular ones!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, he took it—just made him, you know. These butlers are not +half bad fellows if you go at them right—I can <i>always</i> manage them. He +sympathized with me—you could see that—dashed if the fellow wasn't +almost weeping as he closed the door.</p> + +<p>And then I just flopped down upon a divan and lay there panting like a +what's-its-name—reaction, you know. So he <i>had</i> known! He had known +when he let me come to Wolhurst, and had waited for the moment when he +would have me under his roof and be able utterly to confound me. This, +then, explained his mental condition, his relapse to drink again—his +madness on the subject of pajamas. It was <i>awful</i>! By Jove, as I lay +there thinking of his suspicions and diseased imaginings induced by his +monstrous folly of drink—the awful curse of drink—and of what it had +almost brought upon two innocent lives, I felt indignant—almost sick. +Lay there helpless, wishing Jenkins would come, and wondering if I +wasn't getting a bit feverish—mouth dry and craving moisture, you know. +But not a thing could I find in the room except a glass—and empty. +Carafe beside it, but nothing in it but water, you know, and a large, +round ball of ice. So just had to fall back on the couch and try not to +think of my throbbing, swollen tongue.</p> + +<p>Mind got to wandering then, I think. Thought of Frances and how much I +loved her, and of cooling streams—fizzy and gurgling—and of amber +fountains, crested with sparkling, pearly sunbursts—<i>you</i> know! I even +got to wondering if she really loved me—fact! And then came the +disquieting thought of how devilish disappointing and awful it <i>would</i> +be if Jenkins should forget a stock of my Egyptian Koroskos. What <i>was</i> +it she had told me that night about being engaged to another and wanting +to be free, now that she had met me—the darling! Then, dash me if I +could remember to save me whether Jenkins had or had not said something +to me that morning about packing my ashes-of-roses socks and ties—or +was it about my lilac silk underwear with the mauve fleur-de-lis? +Devilish annoying I couldn't remember. Of course it was this that was +making her so reticent and offish about any reference to the other +night—I mean it was this thing of being entangled with this other chap. +So jolly sensitive and high-minded, don't you know, she didn't want to +talk about <i>our</i> future until she had dumped the other fellow in the +road—that was it.</p> + +<p>Struck me suddenly that there was some jolly proverb thing about it: +something about the old love and the new—some dashed wise, old, musty +rot about <i>that</i>. What the deuce was it?</p> + +<p>And luckily, just then Jenkins came!</p> + +<p>And when he had laid out my things, and I found I was to wear a scarf of +Harvard crimson—the color <i>she</i> admired—I was so devilish pleased and +grateful to Jenkins for the decision that I thought that now I would let +him have a try at the proverb.</p> + +<p>"I say, Jenkins," I began carelessly, "there's some jolly saying or +proverb—eh, <i>you</i> know?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," responded Jenkins absently, for he was intensely +concentrated on the selection of a scarf-pin.</p> + +<p>I went on: "It's about—oh, don't you know—about when you've tried +being engaged to one person and you don't like it, and you are thinking +of being engaged to another—something of that sort, dash it—oh, <i>you</i> +know!" And I wondered if it would be the sardonyx or the ruby, and hoped +it would be the ruby.</p> + +<p>"Mm-m-m," murmured Jenkins, blinking thoughtfully. "Let's see, sir—it +ain't that one about the hair of the dog, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Hair of the—Certainly <i>not</i>!" I exclaimed with indignation. "No, it's +some jolly saw about being off with the old and on with—" I stalled.</p> + +<p>"Off and on," came quickly from Jenkins; then he went back to his jolly +pins.</p> + +<p>"Maybe," I said, trying to think, "but there's something else about +being on with the new—or being on to the new—Oh, yes, the devilish +thing starts off: ''Tis well to be off'—um, off—Dash it, off <i>what</i>? +You catch the idea, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir." He tried the ruby and sardonyx in turn against the +silk and rejected both—<i>he</i> took a garnet. It wouldn't have been <i>my</i> +taste, but then it wasn't my business, you know! His jolly old lips +moved as he repeated something to himself; he rolled his eyes to the +ceiling and cleared his throat—and <i>then</i> I knew he had it!</p> + +<p>"I don't seem to remember it, sir—not <i>precisely</i>—h'm—but could it be +this: ''Tis well to be off—'" He paused with finger on chin, rolling +his eyes upward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, yes!" I said disgustedly. "Why, <i>I</i> told you—"</p> + +<p>He lifted his hand. "'Tis well to be off and on—'" And he stuck again, +dash it! Then his lips worked some more and his face cleared. "Oh, +<i>here</i> it is, sir—<i>I've</i> got it now! See if this ain't it:"</p> + +<p>And he laid it off with his fingers the way a woman counts the words in +a telegram to keep from going over ten:</p> + +<p>"'Tis-well-to-be-off-and-on-with-the-old-love, +but-don't-let-on-to-the-new'—<i>there you are, sir</i>!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I exclaimed, batting at him; and the brushes in my hands +paused and pulled hard on each side of my part. "Oh, I say!" And I had +him repeat it again.</p> + +<p>The thing troubled me! Odd I had not more carefully noticed before the +wording of the jolly thing! But then of course my interest in it had not +been so dashed personal as now. Kept running in my head now and +disturbing me all the while Jenkins was busying himself about me. And +<i>then</i>, as if I didn't have quite enough already to try me, Jenkins at +the last moment chucked the crimson scarf altogether, and slipped +through my collar a Persian bat! By Jove, I was so dashed annoyed, I +took it from him to tie myself.</p> + +<p>"Off and on with the old love!" It kept whispering itself in my ear till +I hardly knew what I was doing. <i>Could</i> it be that she would—but, oh, +dash it, <i>no</i>! I knew she wouldn't! And yet another chap might come +along and she might find she would rather be engaged to <i>him</i>! Oh, but I +was sure <i>she</i> was not so variable as that. Still a vague fear kept +recurring; a miserable, tiny, pricking doubt—the crumpled +what's-its-name in the bed of down, you know—that sort of thing!</p> + +<p>What the deuce was the best thing to do?</p> + +<p>"Pardon, sir," came in Jenkins' voice, and in the glass I saw his head +piking anxiously over my shoulder; "but <i>I</i> think with them changeable +kind, the best thing to try for is a sudden, firm knot!"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" I said, staring. And then I whirled upon him, seizing both his +hands.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Jenkins!" I exclaimed admiringly. "What a perfectly +out-and-out corking idea—a regular ripper, you know! How devilish +clever of you, dash it!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins batted a little—always does when I notice +these little things—so modest, don't you know.</p> + +<p>But I had the idea now, and I gripped it tight along with my monocle, +as, ten minutes later, I sauntered down the stairs.</p> + +<p>I would speak to her father at once!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>I SPEAK TO HER FATHER</h3> + + +<p>"So glad to see you here, my boy," the judge was saying. And his little +round face beamed at me across the library table. I had encountered him +in the hall just as I had descended to rejoin the girls in the +living-room. Forthwith, he elbowed me into the library.</p> + +<p>"Know from Jack how glad you always are to escape girls," he remarked +cheerily as he produced cigars. "Don't blame you at all—in fact, do you +know it refreshes me to find—"</p> + +<p>Don't know what dashed thing it refreshed him to find, for I never +caught it. For just then through the doorway there floated, from across +the hall, a bar of music—the laugh of the dearest girl in the world!</p> + +<p>I strained for another bar.</p> + +<p>"Hah!" ejaculated the judge, pausing with questioning uplift of cigar. +"The silly cackle of those girls—it disturbs you. Yes, it does—I can +see it—you <i>look</i> disturbed." And, dash it, he insisted upon closing +the door. "You mustn't let <i>them</i> bother you while you are here," he +urged pleasantly; "you must just go ahead and do the thing you <i>want</i> to +do."</p> + +<p>By Jove, there seemed little opportunity for it!</p> + +<p>"Thanks awfully," I murmured feebly.</p> + +<p>The judge proceeded genially: "Of course we all understand that you just +came up to Wolhurst to please Jack." Then his face clouded. "H'm! Sorry +to learn that he came home with another—" his eyes rolled through a +circle—"er—is not feeling just fit. It's too bad, for I wanted some +one to take you over the neighborhood—interesting landmarks, you know, +reminiscent of Major André and Washington Irving."</p> + +<p>"Charmed, I'm sure," I chirped up. Jolly lie, though, for I wasn't +impressed; didn't know <i>who</i> the other fellow was, but I had <i>seen</i> +Irving in London—scores of times. Not a patch on John Drew to <i>my</i> +thinking!</p> + +<p>The judge was murmuring something apologetic:</p> + +<p>"So I can't go with you, myself, you see—but I know you will +understand. Just so infernally tied up with preparation of rebuttal in +suit the attorney-general is bringing against one of my +corporations—most unreasonable thing you ever heard of!" The judge +crossed his legs with a fling of impatience and pulled savagely at his +cigar. "By George, Lightnut, we are getting to a pass with politics +where party organization is going to the dogs—don't you think so, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, yes—rotten, you know!" I worked off indignantly—her +father, don't you see! Sat wondering when I would get to see her—by +Jove, they would <i>have</i> to let me see her at luncheon! I just caught +back in time to get the end of a sentence:</p> + +<p>"Utter defiance of personal obligations!" His hands spread eloquently. +"Tell me what is the use of electing men to office, when they +time-servingly yield before the clamor of the cursed populistic and +revolutionary spirit of the times?" He was leaning toward me now, his +jolly face swelling with indignation, his fist beating upon his knee. +"What has become, Mr. Lightnut," he pounded, "of the time-honored +sanctity of the 'gentleman's agreement'—eh? Where now the <i>pact +conventa</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Where?" I shrugged, and I let it go at that, pretending to be busied +with a match; for dash me if <i>I</i> knew! Never had seen it even—in fact, +didn't care a jolly hang if I never did, don't you know.</p> + +<p>He went on hammering: "Here I've got to go and stultify myself, arguing +against my own decision when I was on the bench!" He snorted. "It's +perfectly abominable, sir—outrageous!"</p> + +<p>And the judge hurled his little body back into the chair and furiously +pumped himself into a cloud of smoke. He glared at me expectantly, and I +knew I had to come up.</p> + +<p>"Beastly bad form, you know!" I tried, sending a great funnel upward and +frowning after it. Fact was, I never took any interest in political +questions—dashed bore, you know. Wondered if he would spring them much +when Frances and I were—</p> + +<p>"Um—well, I should say so!" he grunted; and my jerk sent ashes all +over me. But I saw that he was just mollified because I agreed with him. +Best system, Pugsley says, is always to agree with <i>everybody</i> in +politics—"humor 'em gently, just like children," were his exact words; +"you know it really <i>don't</i> matter!"</p> + +<p>"And now, let's see," resumed the judge, brightening. "I wonder who we +<i>can</i> get to take you!" His fingers drummed together thoughtfully. "Um, +of course, there is Francis—" my heart took a jolly leap—"but Francis +is impossible—<i>quite</i> impossible!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, no!" I ejaculated eagerly, and I came up in my chair like a +galvanized what's-its-name. "Just the thing—be delighted, you know."</p> + +<p>He smiled grimly. "Natural <i>you</i> should say that, but—" He expectorated +with deliberation, glowering at me as he did it. "<i>No</i>, sir!" His head +shook with decision. "Wouldn't do—I wouldn't think of trusting you with +Francis," he finished shortly.</p> + +<p>"O!" Just a gasp, you know; and my jolly cheeks stung as from a dash of +fiery what's-its-name sauce. So <i>he</i> knew about the pajamas, too!</p> + +<p>I half rose from my chair.</p> + +<p>"I—I assure you, sir—" I began stiffly.</p> + +<p>His fussy shrug checked me. "No, no, we'll just have to wait till Jack +gets up. The only thing <i>I'm</i> anxious about is the scenery and the view +points; and I just know if Francis went with you, you would never see +any of it."</p> + +<p>By Jove, I thought that quite likely enough, but of course it was +devilish personal of him to say so. And dash seeing the scenery and view +points, anyway—who wanted to see <i>them</i>, if they could see <i>her</i>? I was +just going to suggest this, when he went on:</p> + +<p>"The fact is—" He hesitated, then flicked his ashes with a sigh. "Oh, +well, since I've said as much as I have, I should go further, I suppose. +It's only fair not to leave you in the dark, especially as my daughter +was enthusiastically telling me just now"—puff—"that she already looks +on you as one of the family."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, did she though?" I hitched to the front of the chair. "How +dev—I mean how—"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "And so I feel justified in talking to you frankly—not that +I want to prejudice you against Francis, you understand, but just +because"—his head wagged soberly—"<i>Francis won't do!</i>" And he looked +at me steadily.</p> + +<p>Something like a sharp pain struck through me. Again—and this time from +her own father! I just sat there kind of frozen, you know, except that I +could feel the smile slowly loosening in my face. He moved to a seat +nearer.</p> + +<p>"I don't like to seem to be disparaging my own flesh and blood, Mr. +Lightnut," he proceeded gravely, "but the truth is Francis is the only +one of my children that gives me any anxiety."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I felt myself shrink together, my knees slanting away from him. +My dashed monocle hung limp.</p> + +<p>He angled closer. "Jack's drinking is bad—that I admit, but +perhaps—h'm—he comes by it naturally; still Jack has never forgotten +that he is a gentleman—the son of a gentleman—and has never been what +you would call fast, but—" His chest lifted under a deep breath—"but +Francis—<i>whew</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Fast—Frances?" It faltered tremulously from my lips; my cigar dropped +with a soft thud.</p> + +<p>His eyes widened. "<i>Oh</i>, yes—frightfully!" And he tendered me another +cigar, and I had to light it—he made me! "Of course, the mistake was in +ever sending Francis away to school—not always a wise thing, Mr. +Lightnut, especially when the home life has been too cloistered. I think +the reaction was too much for one so green and inexperienced as Francis. +And extravagance—my!" He lifted his hands. "I thought Jack was bad +enough at Cambridge with a thousand-dollar apartment on the 'Gold +Coast,' as you call it—and, by George, you Harvard men have got the +right name for it!—but Francis beat that in one term's drain on me for +poker losses and—"</p> + +<p>"Poker?" I moistened my lips. Then I brightened, for perhaps he meant +bridge—and <i>that</i> was good form, for there was my Aunt Julia, who lived +by it—fact! But his head shook impatiently when I suggested that he +meant this.</p> + +<p>"Bridge!" he exploded. "Why, Francis doesn't know bridge from casino! +<i>Poker</i>, I tell you, and faro—and all the rest. The plucking was done +nightly at a certain—er—club, the establishment of a gentleman by the +name of McGinty—'Spot' McGinty—oh, you <i>know</i> the place, then?"</p> + +<p>For I had gasped audibly. "Only—only by reputation," I responded +hastily.</p> + +<p>"Um, dare say it has got 'reputation,' all right. I guess, too, there +are more crooked things than streets within a couple of miles of Harvard +Square, eh? Why, do you know, Francis and a couple of classmates were +caught in a raid there one night and lugged off to the station in a +patrol—I had to bail 'em out by wire. That's how <i>I</i> know about the +place." And, discriminatingly, he selected a fresh cigar and lighted it.</p> + +<p>"You—you don't mean they were really arrested?" I faltered.</p> + +<p>He nodded grimly through a funnel of smoke. "How could they help being? +Why, dammit, they were too drunk to get away!" He settled in his seat +with a scowl. "I can tell you it was all I could do to stave off +expulsion!"</p> + +<p>My jolly head spun. By Jove, Radcliffe girls must have moved on some +since my day! Then they were coldly intellectual—went in strong for the +earnest life, you know—the serious purpose existence—all that sort of +thing. All of us looked on them with more or less awe—that is, except +Smithers; he tried some intimate flirtations, one morning with a bunch +in the Botanic Gardens and got stung. <i>He</i> said they were "prunes."</p> + +<p>But <i>Frances</i>—and "Spot" McGinty's! Surely I had not heard aright.</p> + +<p>I faced him earnestly. "I—er—Judge Billings, do I understand you—that +is, it can't be that you are speaking of—er—Frances?" I stammered +incredulously. "I mean <i>your</i> Frances—surely you are not!"</p> + +<p>"I just am!" His jaw set with a snap. "Just who I'm talking about and +nobody else, young man! I mean, <i>my</i> Francis—Francis Leslie +Billings—who else could I mean?" He almost groaned. "Oh, you don't +<i>know</i> Francis!"</p> + +<p>Dash it, what they all chorused at me! They seemed pretty positive about +it, too, and I was jolly miserable; but looking back now, I somehow +think of that moment as being the point where I reached the parting of +the what-you-call-'ems. Didn't know what to think, but knew I had to +make up my mind right then and there—and for <i>always</i>, don't you know. +Knew, of course, that it was just pure <i>luck</i> that Frances cared for +me—realized jolly well I wasn't particularly clever and all that, you +know; but <i>she</i> didn't seem to mind. It was then that it came to me all +of a sudden that the only dashed thing in all the world that I could +give <i>her</i>, that she didn't seem to have already from somebody, +was—well just <i>trust</i>.</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, as soon as I got hold of this perfectly corking idea, I +knew I had it for life, and—well, nothing else mattered in all the +world, you know!</p> + +<p>Meantime, her father was studying me a little oddly and smiling.</p> + +<p>"I see you don't quite like what I say about Francis," he remarked, +puffing complacently.</p> + +<p>I looked him straight in the eye. "Frankly, I don't, if you must know," +I blurted. Then I screwed my monocle tight and straightened forward. "By +Jove, I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Wh—what's that?—<i>Lightnut!</i>" He turned a beet color and grasped the +arms of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do." I stood up and he followed. "I think if that poor child had +had a little—er—forbearance and kindness—that sort of thing—oh, dash +it, I just think you've been infernally harsh always—yes, I do!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be—" He swallowed it, neck forward, and stood panting a +bit. "<i>Harsh</i>, eh?" he jerked at me. "Um!" He stood there, his feet +braced apart, his white brows beetling at the floor. "Harsh!" He cocked +his head on one side, thrusting out his heavy under-lip. Then came a +sniff and a grunt, and oh, he looked black!</p> + +<p>I was feeling devilish pale—you can, you know—and a little trembly +from excitement. Wasn't quite sure what I had said, but knew jolly well +I must have meant it, whatever it was. Knew, of course, that in another +minute it would be his come-back and he would simply slay me. He would +look at me coldly through his glasses, bow with dignity, and leave the +room.</p> + +<p>And then—</p> + +<p>I wondered if Jenkins had a time-table!</p> + +<p>And just then came a quick breath, and I caught a murmur: "I wonder now +if, after all, that is true! By George, they say children and—" The +mutter trailed off. "Here, here, my boy—sit down," he exclaimed +suddenly; and he made me.</p> + +<p>"I want to thank you, Lightnut," he said impressively. "It may be that +you are right. Perhaps the better course would be gently to reason with +Francis."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Judge, I am sure of it," I urged feelingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, my boy—we'll see." He patted me on the knee. "I'm going to +try your way—by George, I'll do it to-night!" His eyes seemed to hold +me with a more kindly and personal interest. "Do you know I can't tell +you how glad I am that you find so much in Francis to like; indeed, I am +<i>delighted</i>." Still studying me attentively, he musingly reached for a +fresh light. "In point of fact, Lightnut, I am free to say I hope the +intimacy begun between you two will grow closer. It would be a +thundering good thing for Francis and a great comfort to me."</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, he smiled at me—a devilish pleasant smile!</p> + +<p>I sat up straight, uncrossed my legs and tried it over the other way. +Awfully helpful dodge, you know, when you are under some mental +agitation.</p> + +<p>He was looking at me through his lashes as he drew the flame to his +cigar, and I knew that now was the time for me to speak. He <i>expected</i> +it—had deliberately given me an opening, and a prime one, and now—was +waiting! Of course he couldn't know that I was so dashed +inexperienced—unpractised, you know—in speaking to a girl's father +and that I didn't even know the correct forms and usages. An out-and-out +man of the world like Judge Billings just <i>couldn't</i> understand this, +don't you know, and to have him suspect the truth—oh, it would have +been too mortifying—too <i>humiliating</i>, dash it!</p> + +<p>So I just leaned forward and made a go:</p> + +<p>"Thanks awfully; and—er—by the way—" Then I stuck, boggled wildly an +instant and went on: "That is to say, this intimacy, you know—has it +been too short to justify—" I gulped. "Er—would you be willing to +trust—" And I lost the dashed idea again, floundered a bit and took +another shy: "Oh, I say, you know, have I your permission to speak to +Frances—er—<i>you</i> know?"</p> + +<p>"You speak to Francis?"—he just leaped toward me—"Why, my <i>boy</i>!" And +he was wringing my arm with one hand while the other clasped my +shoulder. "My <i>de-e-ear</i> boy—why, Lightnut!" By Jove, he almost gushed! +"You're not joking now, are you?" He peered anxiously into my face. "No, +by George, I believe you really mean it!" And he went to pumping like +mad. "How awfully good of you—<i>self-sacrificing</i> is the word! Are you +quite sure you don't mind?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mind?</i>" By Jove, I think I looked what I felt at such a dashed silly +question.</p> + +<p>"Well! well! <i>well!</i> My dear young friend!" And oh, he went on in the +most disgusting way—why, dash it, you would have thought I was doing +him some favor! I guessed, though, that it was the usual custom, but it +seemed rum—for <i>I</i> should have thought that in giving your daughter +away, you put the thanks up to the other fellow. But Pugsley says the +rule varies—quite often varies! Anyhow, I felt so gratified that I had +taken the honorable course and spoken to her father—understand so many +do not at all, you know. As it was, it gave me quite a comfortable glow +of pride, and I reflected how much better it always is to follow the +wise dictates of your what's-its-name!</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I thought, as I nodded and smiled back, "I wonder what he +would say if he knew that Frances and I are <i>already</i> engaged!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>THE FAMILY BLACK SHEEP</h3> + + +<p>Presently I got in a word:</p> + +<p>"Then, Judge, I have your permission to speak to Frances?"</p> + +<p>"Permission?" He lifted his hands and eyes. "You certainly have, my +boy—don't I make it clear? Why, I'm simply delighted—and grateful—oh, +so <i>grateful</i> to you!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, he meant it—there was no mistaking his fervency! But it +made me feel like a silly ass, you know. Custom or no custom, it just +made me a bit nifty to think <i>her</i> father would speak this way. Might be +good form, but it appeared rotten taste—lots of things seem that way, +dash it! Suggested this to Pugsley once, but he was so devilish shocked +couldn't eat his luncheon—wasn't able to fetch a dashed word for four +hours!</p> + +<p>"Why, Lightnut," he dropped to a chair, leaning forward, with shining +eyes, "you can't possibly know what this means just at this time! Why, +if you hadn't offered to speak to Francis, it's not likely that any one +else <i>ever</i> would!"</p> + +<p>"Judge!" I ejaculated, shocked.</p> + +<p>"Who would want to?" And he grimaced horribly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say now!" I protested warmly.</p> + +<p>"My boy, I tell you I know—you <i>don't</i>!" He lifted his hand eloquently, +deflecting the corners of his mouth—oh, such a way! "No, siree, I tell +you there's not another living man would dare chance it!" He threw +himself backward, puffing his cheeks at me and walling his eyes +frightfully. "In fact, hereabouts—where Francis is known, there have +been two men—only just two—who ever had the temerity to do it."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I commented. Wondered if one of these was the other chap she was +engaged to.</p> + +<p>He proceeded impressively: "One of these, my dear sir, was our rector—a +most charming and venerable old man, now nearly eighty-three and +partially paralyzed and deaf; lives a sweet, patient life all alone, you +know, with no one in the world to care for him. <i>Well</i>, sir," he +stiffened dramatically, leveling one finger at me, "do you think that +Francis would even listen to him?"</p> + +<p>Did I? Well, dash it, <i>did</i> I?</p> + +<p>But I tried to mumble something polite.</p> + +<p>"And then—" he puffed as he relighted his cigar, "there's Jack's +chauffeur, you know."</p> + +<p>"Eh, Jack's—<i>what's</i> that?" I gripped the arms of my chair.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he nodded, "Jack's chauffeur. Oh, I was <i>so</i> disappointed at the +result of his effort!" The old gentleman slipped back in his chair with +a sigh. "Francis just swore at him, you know!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I managed to get out—and yet, somehow, I was devilish +pleased about it.</p> + +<p>"You see?" And he spread out his hands. "Absolutely no sense of +appreciation, you observe; and it had seemed such a splendid chance! You +see they had been so intimate—oh, are still, for that matter."</p> + +<p>I caught my breath. "In—intimate!" I stammered. "You don't mean Frances +and this chauffeur?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh</i>, yes," carelessly, "Scoggins is all right; very superior young man +for his position—fond of Francis, you know, and I really think has +great influence." He puffed complacently an instant. "Fact is, they are +always together when Francis is home"—puff—"motoring, boating, or else +off somewhere camping together."</p> + +<p>"Wha-at—what's that—not <i>camping</i>?" I looked at him aghast. "Oh, come +now, Judge—really you don't mean <i>that</i>, do you—not camping together?"</p> + +<p>I spoke excitedly, but he just stared at me with an expression of blank +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Why, certainly, my dear boy—for weeks at a time—and why not?" His +shift manifested some impatience. "Pshaw, Lightnut," he growled, +flicking his ash, "what's the odds—why be so particular? <i>I</i> don't +mind!" He jammed his hands into his trousers pockets till it seemed he +would go through them. "I tell you, I'm glad I'm democratic!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I uttered, seeing a light.</p> + +<p>So <i>that</i> was it! Well, in any case, I knew now that I was a republican, +by Jove! Never did know before what I was and it was a devilish relief +to find out. Half made up my mind, then and there, I would vote next +election—never had, you know; few of our set ever did. Pugsley, for +one, held it to be doubtful form.</p> + +<p>"Bright, self-made young man," I caught as I came back. By Jove, he was +still talking about that beastly chauffeur! "Such fine morals, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, <i>yes</i>!" And I think this must have been when I broke the +corner out of a filling.</p> + +<p>"That was why I was so sorry he failed with Francis," he continued +regretfully, "but <i>you</i> may succeed better—oh, I don't know but what it +will do just as well!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks—er—awfully!" I murmured weakly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think so—<i>oh</i>, yes!" He bobbed his head as though he were quite +resigned to it—then went on thoughtfully:</p> + +<p>"And anyhow, if Francis finds <i>you</i> are in deadly earnest, why it—" His +voice dropped off musingly: "Well, I believe <i>that</i> would make it +easier—oh, lots easier for Scoggins."</p> + +<p>I blinked a little with my free eye.</p> + +<p>Wasn't sure, you know, but somehow it seemed to me a rum thing to +say—almost offensive, dash it! But then, for that matter, everything +was rum of late—so <i>that</i> counted for nothing. Fact was, it just seemed +to me like there was something in the air—everybody seemed so +queer—well, jolly muddled, I should call it! Idea had been gradually +coming to me that I was the only one who appeared to have any clear +understanding of things; and somehow the realization just made me +devilish nervous—the responsibility, don't you know!</p> + +<p>And just then the judge looked suddenly at his watch, muttered +something, and hitched up to the table strewn with papers. He bent over +these with a frown, coughed oddly, glanced at me—and bent again with a +mutter. Of course, I saw he was annoyed over sudden consciousness of the +break he had made, and was striving to cover his embarrassment.</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, it seemed to me he <i>ought</i> to <i>feel</i> embarrassed, for the +very rummest thing yet was this crazy infatuation for this infernal +chauffeur. It was pitiful—oh, disgusting, if you ask <i>me</i>—and the more +so because it was something she did not share. I <i>knew</i> she didn't, you +know! No, it was plain enough, dash it, that between her father and this +mucker of a chauffeur, my poor darling was being crowded to the +what's-its-name. <i>This</i> was what she had meant—had hinted at—and, by +Jove, I was ready to wager anything on it; eager to put up all I was +worth, you know!</p> + +<p>Didn't know, dash it, how much I <i>was</i> worth Went down in Wall Street +one day and asked old Morley, my man of affairs, but forgot what he +said. Never could remember afterward whether it was one million or ten +and always hated to ask again.</p> + +<p>Truth was he had stared at me so and seemed so oddly surprised, I just +worked off some jolly apologetic rubbish and got out. Pugsley thought I +must have violated some rotten, silly law of commercial ethics—that +sort of thing, you know; declared that his attorney had had the dashed +impertinence once to ask him about some investments, so he got another +man and gave him a power of what's-its-name. Never was bothered now, he +said, by checks or reports or any boring distractions of that sort; +<i>this</i> man just kept him supplied with money, and once in a while he +scrawled his name on something—all he had to do. Devilish simple, you +see, but then Pugsley is so ingenious, so—oh, <i>clever</i>, you know.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" coughed the judge, "Er—h'm!" And I stopped snapping the cover of +my cigarette case, thinking he was about to say something, but he did +not look up. By Jove, how I wished that he were <i>really</i> busy, so I +might slip out without danger of offending him! But I was afraid to +chance it—did so want to rub him right, don't you know, on account of +Frances. Knew he was still feeling a bit plucked over his slip of the +tongue—showed plainly he was bothered, you know; you could tell by his +puckered brows and the way he kept clearing his throat. So meantime, +knowing that the best thing was to appear unconscious—just give him +time, you know—I fell carelessly to jingling some coins in my pocket +and tapping my foot upon the hardwood, as I hummed a devilish neat +little air from <i>La Juive</i> that I almost knew by heart:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"<i>Qu'il, l'apprenne de vous?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Hélas, je vous implore, bénissez mon époux</i>—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>By Jove, I had just got that far, when he shook his head with a kind of +snort, threw down his pen, and got to his feet, facing me with a sickly +smile.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask you to excuse me, my dear Lightnut"—came right out +frankly like that, you know! "But the fact is—" he opened and shut his +watch—nervously, you know—"I have just realized how—"</p> + +<p>But I stopped him—couldn't let him go on, of course: "Oh, I say, you +know! Not another word, my <i>dear</i> Judge—I don't care a jolly hang, dash +it!" And to show him, I smiled, got out a cigarette, and perched kind of +sidewise on the edge of the table. "I'm not a bit sensitive, don't you +know!"</p> + +<p>He stared. "Indeed, no—I see you are not!" he said warmly.</p> + +<p>I drew a light a bit airily. "Of course," I puffed, "what <i>you</i> are +thinking of is your servant, but I"—I shot him a light wink—"I've got +to think a little about my own affair, don't you—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Lightnut!</i>" He caught me by the arms, his face reddened almost black. +"My <i>dear</i> boy, ten thousand pardons! I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"That's just all right, Judge," I reassured him soothingly. "All I am +holding out for is just to be sure we understand each other about +Frances—that I may be sure I have your authority—"</p> + +<p>"So <i>that's</i> it!" He relaxed with a deep breath. Then quietly: "My dear +boy, you make me ashamed of myself—I <i>was</i> rude!" And he shook my hand. +"Yes, indeed—you just go right ahead; almost anything is preferable to +the vicious life Francis is leading—<i>anything</i>!" He sighed and his +voice dropped confidentially: "I'm afraid even you would be discouraged +if I told you of one or two disgraceful episodes at Cambridge—I <i>know</i> +Scoggins would be!"</p> + +<p>Scoggins again—always Scoggins! <i>Dash</i> Scoggins! Of course he would be +discouraged, but I should not. Devilish simple reason, you +know—wouldn't believe it, by Jove!</p> + +<p>"Yes, I learned all about it from my daughter when she came home," he +proceeded gloomily; "she feels that in a measure it has marred Miss +Kirkland's visit with her."</p> + +<p>Miss Kirkland! I recalled now that that was the name of the girl from +China. By Jove, <i>I</i> preferred to think of her as the frump!</p> + +<p>"For Miss Kirkland heard the gossip at Cambridge—seems she has friends +there among the residents; and they were kind enough to tell her of +these things of the year before as soon as they noticed how devoted +Francis was to her. At least this is what my daughter suspects—Miss +Kirkland is not the kind to talk, you know."</p> + +<p>Oh, <i>wasn't</i> she! By Jove, I wondered what he would think if he had +heard our conversation in the hall! But it wasn't for <i>me</i> to tell him +he was warming a what's-its-name to his bosom, so I just mumbled a +reply.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," he shrugged, "it is easy to see that she can't stand the +sight of Francis." He shook his head dismally. "Charming girl, Mr. +Lightnut—a rare and perfect type of the English beauty at her best."</p> + +<p>Oh, <i>was</i> she! Not if I knew anything about it, and I had seen three +seasons in London. By Jove, I was so terribly shocked I could just feel +it in my face!</p> + +<p>He seemed surprised. "Don't you think so?" he insisted.</p> + +<p>"Well, I rather <i>don't</i>, you know!" It just blurted out of itself. "Oh, +I say—now, you're not really in earnest?" And I screwed my glass so +hard in my embarrassment, I hurt my eye—"You know she's a freak! Why, +dash it—" I pulled up, for after all, she was a fellow guest.</p> + +<p>He stared, jammed his hands deep in his pockets and bent toward me. +"Now, look here, my boy, <i>do</i> you mean to say you don't think Miss +Kirkland a beautiful and winning girl?"—I guess he did see I meant it, +for he slowly emitted an expressive whistle—"Well, you <i>are</i> hopeless +then—utterly hopeless!" and dash it, he just groaned!</p> + +<p>"But now, my dear young friend," he went on, and with a glance at the +littered table, "I want you to go out and get some fresh air before the +bloom of the morning is past—if you go out this way, you will avoid +encountering those girls"—his hand gently but firmly urged me. "It has +been just abominably selfish of me to have kept you stuffed in here; I +know I have bored you to death with all this about the family black +sheep—I feel that now I must let you escape."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—not at all!" I protested hastily and pulling back. Never would +do to let him feel that way, you know! "Really, 'pon honor now, thing I +want to do is just stay here and talk to you about Frances."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>damn</i> Fran—h'm—I mean Francis will keep!" He caught himself +hastily before the stare of my glass, fumbling with the papers to cover +his confusion. Then he clapped me on the shoulder, pressing me again +toward the door. "You just go ahead and do whatever you can with +Francis, yourself—you are my only hope! Or wait, and I'll prepare the +way for you to-night—that's it; that's best!"—and he went to nodding. +Then he halted my progress and eyed me intently. "There's another +thing:"—his voice dropped—"I think it's just as well Jack shouldn't +know of your intentions about Francis; he would never approve—oh, +<i>never</i>!"</p> + +<p>He pursed his lips to just a thin curve as he shook his head positively. +His eyes bored at me over his glasses. I moistened my lips.</p> + +<p>"I know <i>he</i> feels you have already concerned yourself enough about +Francis," he said deliberately. "The other night at your rooms—er, +<i>you</i> know! Jack is so particular in those little things. Ah, there's a +model for you!"</p> + +<p>He looked upward and wagged his head as he laid his hand upon the +door-knob. By Jove, how I wished he would open it, for the room was +getting devilish warm!</p> + +<p>"And as for things I deplore in Francis—oh, no, never any of that with +Jack!"—he stiffened proudly—"he may, as I have said, imbibe a little +too much, now and then; but when it comes to <i>scandal</i>—well, I have yet +to hear the slightest breath—"</p> + +<p>A sharp knock cut in abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Come in!" And he swung the door open.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>FLORA</h3> + + +<p>In the doorway stood the butler, looking rather pale. With him was a +woman—one of the angular sort, you know, and whom I judged to be the +housekeeper.</p> + +<p><i>She</i> wasn't pale! No, by Jove, she was fiery red, even to her hair; and +red, too, the anvil sparks that were snapping from her eyes. She marched +right in, followed by Wilkes, who carefully closed the door—then stood +discreetly aloof. Pantingly, she faced the judge, who was staring at her +in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Warfield," he began, "what—"</p> + +<p>"Judge Billings!" she exploded. And, by Jove, it was like the blast from +a mighty bellows! "It's about Mr. Jack!"</p> + +<p>The judge's face flushed apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Jack—about Jack?" he repeated. "Is he—er—worse?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Worse?</i>" The bellows inflated sharply. "Worse is just it—it's the +shock of finding out things I never even suspected!" She whirled upon +the butler.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> tell him!" she snapped sharply.</p> + +<p>Wilkes shivered as under a sudden cold what's-its-name. He looked at her +protestingly, his eye cutting a suggestive hint of my presence.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go on!"—the judge nodded to him with some impatience. "It's all +right—Mr. Lightnut is like one of us. Out with it, whatever it is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Wilkes coughed acquiescence, but shot a glance, +half-reproachful, half-apprehensive, at the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>She straightened, bristlingly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Are</i> you going to tell him or not—and you a man?—or will you put it +on me?" And she began to inflate again.</p> + +<p>The poor devil took the plunge:</p> + +<p>"The fact is, sir, Mr. Jack—h'm!"—he fidgeted through an instant's +misery, then let it come: "It's about him and one of the maids, sir!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Wh-a-a-t?</i>"</p> + +<p>In the jaw-twisting roar, the judge all but lost his plate—his hand +came up just in time to save it. As for Wilkes, his portly figure seemed +to lift, balloon-like, from the floor for an instant, then settled back.</p> + +<p>"It's Flora, sir," he uttered faintly.</p> + +<p>"Flora?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." And Wilkes quailed before the judge's brows.</p> + +<p>Miss Warfield sniffed.</p> + +<p>The judge scowled at her. "Are you both crazy?" he demanded. "What is +all this—what is it you have to tell? Say it all in a word—one or the +other of you—and have done!" His jaw settled with a snap.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper assumed an injured air. "Well, sir," she said with a +toss, "it just means this: either I or Flora go at the end of this +week—I give notice now!"</p> + +<p>"All right," said the judge with a sort of bland ugliness, "then that's +settled—<i>you</i> go! That is, unless you can get right down to brass tacks +this instant and say what you've got to say."</p> + +<p>And, black as thunder, the old boy laid his hand upon the knob. By Jove, +it did me good to see her crinkle up!</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I beg your pardon, Judge," she said, her voice modifying to a +snuffling twang, "but this has so upset my nerves—Mr. Jack, of all +men!" She fumbled for her handkerchief before she found it—Pugsley says +they <i>always</i> do! "Such talk, sir! I <i>never</i>—" With a kind of gurgle, +she suddenly flopped into the nearest chair and lay there, wriggling +like a jolly auto freshly cranked, and snorting like its horn.</p> + +<p>The judge, with head down, glared at her through his glasses.</p> + +<p>"Talk? <i>That's</i> nothing!"—he uttered a snort. "Why, hang it, madam, +he's <i>drunk</i>! Can't you have a little Christian charity and put yourself +in his place? The poor boy doesn't know what he's saying!"</p> + +<p>She looked up with a head jerk. "That's <i>it</i>—that's just what makes it +so awful," she sniveled; "the revelations, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Revelations, fiddlesticks!" champed the judge, and he jerked his head +to the butler. "Go on, Wilkes! What has Mr. Billings said that's queerer +than—er—usual?"</p> + +<p>Wilkes rubbed his neck. "Well, sir, to <i>my</i> thinking, it ain't so much +what he's said that's queer—leastwise, it wasn't at first—as what he +<i>did</i>. First off, there was his stalling about taking his bath, which +was <i>on</i>-usual, for Perkins says, generally speaking, he's right keen +for it—more 'specially when he's rather well soused—" Wilkes coughed. +"H'm! I beg your pardon, sir! Anyhow, this time he wouldn't have it at +all; <i>no</i>, sir! He was very excited about it—kinder out of his head, I +may say—and buttonholed me and Perkins and went on a whole lot about +only the under man being—no, let me see, <i>lower</i> man was what he +said—the lower man being an—an"—Wilkes' brows contracted as he +strained for it—"an am—h'm—funny I can't remember that word—a +am<i>fibby</i> something—Well, anyhow, he said he never used water +<i>ex</i>-ternally."</p> + +<p>A penetrating moan from the handkerchief startled us.</p> + +<p>"Then—then he never uses it at—<i>at all</i>!" came in a muffled wail.</p> + +<p>The judge's teeth glittered at her in one united row; then he jerked a +nod to Wilkes. "Go on!" he commanded shortly.</p> + +<p>But the butler was glooming sullenly at the fiery head that topped the +bundle of black.</p> + +<p>"He does, too!" he protested. "'Cause Perkins asked him if he wouldn't +like some ice-water and he said he would if he might drink it his own +way."</p> + +<p>"His own way—um—well?"</p> + +<p>"And when Perkins brought it, he poured it down his neck—yes, sir, +every drop—"</p> + +<p>The master cut in irritably: "His neck—confound it, man, tell your +story without slang—or leave off! You know I detest—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> slang, sir"—hastily—"his neck—outside, I mean—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, stuff!"—incredulously—"mean to tell me—"</p> + +<p>"He <i>did</i>, sir—I'll swear it!" The butler was respectful, but firm as +the rock of what's-its-name. "Perkins tried to stop him and says: 'Wait +a minute, Mr. Jack—you're making a mistake—it ain't 'round there; it's +in <i>front</i>, you know!' And he turned on Perkins with a scowl something +awful, and his langwige—well, it wasn't langwige at <i>all</i>! Perkins +thought—" He paused.</p> + +<p>"Um!" The judge had drawn me aside. "The alienation is unusual—what do +you think, Lightnut?"—he looked grave—"it doesn't seem the ordinary +hiatus—the passing alcoholic dementia, you know—there seems in it +something hydrophobic—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, yes—<i>that's</i> all!" I said offhand—just took a chance, +don't you know!</p> + +<p>"Um!" He blinked at me; then faced square about. "I guess I'd better go +up; perhaps when he sees me—"</p> + +<p>He halted, leveling a stern glance at Wilkes.</p> + +<p>"What the dev—what are you grinning about?" he rasped.</p> + +<p>"I'm not, sir!" And the butler's hand came down, revealing a sobered +countenance. "I was just a-wondering if he would try to get you to put +on the pajamas—he did all the rest of us, even—" His eye angled +cautiously at the housekeeper, then batted at us significantly as her +red head wriggled deeper. "Fact is, I think he's kinder gone off about +pajamas—just as I told you, sir." His glance appealed to me. "Yes, sir, +when I took you his message—you know—and brought back yours, it was +even more so then."</p> + +<p>I felt myself get devilish red, then pale, for the judge's eyes were on +me.</p> + + +<p>"Yes," he muttered, still looking at me, "he <i>was</i> telling me something +the other day about some silk pajamas."</p> + +<p>And then I knew he <i>knew</i>!</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," continued Wilkes, "when I got back with <i>your</i> message, Mr. +Lightnut, he seemed to get more excited about them—about pajamas, I +mean. He talked to me and Perkins through the door crack and wanted one +of us to put 'em on—'in the interests of science,' <i>he</i> called it—and +offered to pass 'em out."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow—<i>poor</i> fellow!"—and the judge looked pitiful—"well, why +didn't you humor him?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know, sir!" The butler looked embarrassed. "And, anyhow, it +was just then Mrs. Warfield came, and he tried to get—"</p> + +<p>"Oo-o-o-o!" from the black bundle.</p> + +<p>"And then—" Wilkes hesitated, looking uneasy.</p> + +<p>"<i>Go</i> on, man!"</p> + +<p>The butler coughed faintly. "Well, sir, when she—h'm—refused—it was +then he asked for Flora. 'All right, then you bring me my Flora,' was +what he said, and he sounded irritated like. 'Beg pardon, sir?' says +Perkins, putting his head to the crack kinder inquiringly. 'My Flora, +man!' he comes back sharp; 'just find and bring my Flora—and some +<i>pins</i>;'—he seemed particular about the pins—'if I've got to stay +alone, I want something to divert me—I want my Flora!'" And the butler +mopped his forehead.</p> + +<p>The bundle erected itself. "His '<i>wild</i> Flora,' was what he said," Miss +Warfield corrected sharply; "he said he wanted to embrace—"</p> + +<p>"Press," Wilkes corrected in turn.</p> + + +<p>She inflated with one drive of the piston. "If there's any difference, +<i>I</i> don't know it!" came in a blow-out. And, dash me, if I believe she +<i>did</i>. She looked it, by Jove!</p> + +<p>She faced the judge, who was leaning back against the table, looking +kind of punctured, don't you know. By Jove, it seemed to me he had grown +five years older in as many minutes!</p> + +<p>This seemed to brighten her. "Wanted to <i>press</i> his 'wild Flora'—his +very words!" her voice rasped.</p> + +<p>My, but that woman looked vicious! She blew her nose, crossed her hands, +and propped herself on one foot with an air of ladylike resignation.</p> + +<p>"I was so shocked you might have knocked me over with a feather, but I +managed to speak to him—I don't know how I ever did it!—and I said: +'You don't mean Flora, sir—<i>you</i> can't treat Flora that way!' And if +you could have seen the way he flew to pieces! 'Why can't I?' he yelled +at me. 'Do you think I haven't done it before?' Exactly what he said and +I could hardly believe my ears; and then"—here she began to wabble and +the handkerchief came up—"then he—he called me a wo-woman!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, she was off the road!</p> + +<p>But it seemed to give the judge new interest in life! He just needed +some jolly thing, you know; and now he flared up sudden and went up in +the air like a freshly touched-off what's-its-name:</p> + +<p>"A woman?" His cheeks blew out like little red balloons. "Well, dammit, +madam, what are you—<i>aren't</i> you a woman?"—hands on hips he just +howled it at her—"what do you <i>think</i> you are?"</p> + +<p>For an instant she quailed before him like the stricken +what-you-call-it—but <i>only</i> for an instant! Then her long neck coiled +back and her eyes glittered beady and snake-like; I heard a sort of +rattle in her throat, and then, of course, I knew she was going to +strike—and she did!</p> + +<p>"Very good, Judge!" She sniffed it. "Still it's my duty to tell you—or +any one that asks me, for that matter—exactly what Mr. Jack said!" She +moistened her lips with the end of a red tongue, and clucked in a sad, +pitying sort of way. "Your son looked straight at me through the +door-crack and laughed in the most contemptuous way, and he said: 'You +just leave my Flora to me, woman! This time you're talking of something +you know nothing about and never did know—why, I've pressed Flora a +thousand times!'—yes, sir, just what he said!"—she whirled on +Wilkes—"you heard him say it, too!"</p> + +<p>The butler's sullen eye-droop admitted it.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" And she tossed her head back with a nasty smile.</p> + +<p>By Jove, she had got the judge full and square—you could see it as he +stood there looking down, his face jolly gray and drawn and his +under-lip kind of dragging through his teeth. He was a gamey old boy, +but he had had a devilish hard knock where he lived you know—Jack!</p> + +<p>"George!"—just a deep breath, you know—then he faced me. "You will +excuse me, Lightnut? I must see to this." And he walked out, followed +by Wilkes.</p> + +<p>Somehow, dash it, it just bowled me over to see his gray hairs humbled +in this way to the what-you-call-it—he had such a devilish few of 'em +left, too, you know! So, before I knew it, I had walked right up to the +old mountain cat and took a hand myself.</p> + +<p>"I say, you know!" I said, screwing my monocle down on her. "Too +devilish bad you've got yourself in such a pickle—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Me</i> in a pickle?" she snorted. "Huh!"—and her ropy neck went up +again, but I struck first:</p> + +<p>"You've played smash, don't you know," I went on, tightening my glass. +"Awfully sorry—just wanted to give you a hint. You know this sort of +thing's against the law—something or other criminal—malicious libel or +malfeasance or—er—felonious assault or some dashed thing of that +sort"—her eyes began to widen—"Oh, yes," I drawled, "you're in for the +very deuce of a scrape unless you keep quiet!"</p> + +<p>"Who says so?" she tried to bridle.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> do!" I said, boring her steadily. "Witness, you know! So is +Wilkes—both of us—to whatever dashed thing it is the judge decides +you've done—<i>I</i> don't know, you know!"—I shrugged carelessly. "But +<i>he</i> knows—he's a lawyer—and of course he'll explain it to Wilkes and +me as witnesses. That's what witnesses are for, don't you know! Better +go to your room and await arrest quietly."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" She kind of caught her breath, turning green and dropping her +skinny hand upon a chair-back. And I was going on explaining to her, +when I looked up and there was Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, sir," he said, looking at me oddly, "but there's a caller +waiting, and he was so urgent and particular, I came—"</p> + +<p>"Card!" I suggested, extending a couple of fingers.</p> + +<p>Jenkins looked shocked and his arms remained rigidly down.</p> + +<p>"Oh," I said, polishing my glass, "the gentleman—is he one of my—"</p> + +<p>"It ain't a gentleman, sir,"—Jenkins got it out with difficulty; "it's +only just—er—a person!"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Oh, I say, now, Jenkins!" I protested.</p> + +<p>"A person from the—" Jenkins blinked. "In fact, a police person—" his +chin went up and he so far forgot himself as to indulge in a +sniff—"come to see you about—" his eyebrows angled a lofty protest at +the housekeeper's strained poise—"h'm—to see you about—<i>you</i> know!"</p> + +<p>I was dashed if I knew—but not so Miss Warfield! She gave a sudden gasp +and whirled herself in front of me, hands up and clasped like the other +woman in a jolly play you know.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir!" she tremuloed, "Please—<i>please</i>—"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" I said in alarm and stepping back, for, dash it, <i>I</i> didn't know +what she wanted; and for a moment I had an awful thought she wanted me +to—<i>you</i> know! But the next second, I had her right.</p> + +<p>"Um!" I said, tightening my lips. "Well, I'll see!" And she looked so +white—white as the driven what's-its-name, you know—that I felt my +devilish heart go out to her a bit. "All right," I added soothingly, +"you just go on about your duties and sit tight, you know, and I'll see +if I can—er—fix things!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, I got past just in time to keep her from catching my hand +and wringing herself over it.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce—" I began outside, as Jenkins steered me toward the +<i>porte-cochère</i>.</p> + +<p>He looked warily at the footman waiting to serve us at the door—dashed +if he didn't almost lay his hand on my arm!</p> + +<p>Then, behind his hand: "It's about the pajamas, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" I gasped, falling back.</p> + +<p>He stooped after me and his breath tickled my ear:</p> + +<p>"<i>Hers</i>, sir! <i>You</i> know, that night—h'm!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I said faintly. And this time he <i>did</i> catch my arm, and I was +devilish glad, by Jove!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>I RECOVER THE PAJAMAS</h3> + + +<p>Outside, swinging his club and kicking his heel in the macadam, I found +a fat policeman—from New York, I knew by his helmet.</p> + +<p>He turned and I saw—O'Keefe!</p> + +<p>"Oh, there you are, sir!" And with a careless duck and a wave, he ambled +forward and placed in my hands a parcel.</p> + +<p>"It's them, all right!" he said with a fat wink. "The black silk +pajamas—we got 'em, you see!"</p> + +<p>"Jove!" I ejaculated, staring. Then suddenly I got the jolly idea full +and strong, you know, and I was just so dashed relieved and delighted, I +shook hands with him—fact!</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, Jenkins," I remarked, twisting my glass at him, "by Jove, +you know—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins admitted calmly. "I knew in a minute soon as +he told me!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, I believed him! Had to, you know; it was only just one +instance of the devilish clever, intuitive way Jenkins had of boring +into things!</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir,"—O'Keefe thoughtfully transferred a big wad to the other +cheek—"the captain gave me a little lay off so's I could bring 'em +up,"—he studied with interest the top of one of the pillars of the +<i>porte-cochère</i> and shrugged lightly—"of course it wasn't just because +of the reward, though of course five hundred bucks is five hundred +bucks, but we thought you might like to have 'em—<i>thank you</i>, sir!" For +out of my folder I peeled five crisp centuries and laid them in his +palm.</p> + +<p>This done, Jenkins glanced at me and turned suggestively toward the +entrance, but O'Keefe didn't make a move to go and no more did I. Fact +was, I had a devilish keen notion that the old cat up-stairs would be +watching for the policeman's departure through the grounds, and it came +to me that to play him a little longer wouldn't do any harm, but might +seal her jolly mouth the tighter.</p> + +<p>O'Keefe thanked me again. "You're sure solid with the force, sir," he +assured, nodding earnestly. "Just remember my number and the name of +Captain Clutchem if any time in town you get rounded up in any of our +little—er, <i>you</i> know!"—he dropped a cheerful wink at me and glanced +again at the bills. "Expect maybe you're anxious to know if Tim gets a +divy outer this," he proceeded; and I murmured some jolly something. Of +course, I <i>wasn't</i> anxious, you know; fact is, I didn't care a +dash—didn't even remember who Tim was. "Yes, siree, he'll get ten of +this!" he finished impressively.</p> + +<p>Meantime, he had been hunching himself up until now he succeeded in +wrenching from somewhere behind, a ragged and shiny old wallet, bulging +with worn and greasy papers. Within this, with a flourish, he laid the +bills.</p> + +<p>Then he faced us with an air of increased cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>"So much all for the velvet!" he remarked with another wink.</p> + +<p>Of course it was of no importance to set him right about the material; +as for that, I didn't care a jolly hang if he thought they were made of +linoleum! But it gave me the idea of just peeking into a corner of the +parcel to satisfy myself that its contents were of filmy black silk—and +they were! I went no further; not for all the gold of what's-its-name +would I have profaned the package with further investigation.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, I don't think you need be worrying but what they're all +right," and the big policeman nodded confidently; "in fact there don't +seem to be no damage at all." He added meditatively: "Which is some +wonder, considering how we had to roughhouse Foxy Grandpa before we +softened him down in his cell th' other night." Here his cheeks swelled +and he sent a long sheaf of brown liquid at a grasshopper on the freshly +whitened door-stones—and got it, too, neatly missing the polished toe +of Jenkins' boot. "No, sir!"—emphatically—"I don't think you'll be +hearing any holler from your lady friend when she goes to—<i>eh</i>, +what?"—he stared at Jenkins blankly, for Jenkins had coughed—"Oh, +excuse <i>me</i>!"—and his big hand lifted apologetically to his mouth, +while his eyes rolled upward—"What I just meant was that I know they're +all to the good; I went <i>all</i> over 'em!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh!</i>" I muttered, turning rather faint. I dropped the parcel and +Jenkins picked it up. By Jove, for a moment, he came jolly near having +to pick <i>me</i> up, too, I was that shocked and prostrated!</p> + +<p>"The <i>only</i> thing—the only thing 'tall—" I had to wait through an +agonizing moment while his tongue gathered his wad and peremptorily +expelled it, this time enlivening the cold, dead monotony of the +silver-gray macadam—"was her—I mean, was the pants."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h!" I put my hand to my side and looked at Jenkins appealingly, but +he was looking upward, his eyes kind of cast over like a bird's; the +lines of his mouth tightened to an arch—and I knew <i>he</i> was suffering +too! But we <i>must</i> try to stand it a little longer—just a little!</p> + +<p>Through one instant's respite, Mr. O'Keefe's thick tongue was occupied +in striving to glutenize the entire wrapper of a much crushed and +awfully yellow cigar. Then he separated a mouthful from the end and +proceeded:</p> + +<p>"I did notice with the legs, that one of 'em was just a bit longer than +th' other, and down at the station we was a wondering if—" the brown +head of a crackling match drew a long, curving what-you-call-it on the +smooth, creamy masonry, and he paused to pump madly, striving to coax a +draft of smoke—"we wondered if 'twas—<i>intentional</i>." His eyes sought +mine inquiringly.</p> + +<p>By Jove, I was so frozen with horror, I couldn't even look away; just +stood there, helpless, you know, and my jolly monocle hanging +limp—couldn't have lifted it to have saved my life! Felt my senses just +growing numb all the while with the tragedy of the thing, the thought of +this coarse monster's touch defiling the dainty, gossamer garment that +had shrouded her sacred what-you-call-'ems—Oh, it was <i>awful</i>!</p> + +<p>I wondered if the housekeeper could be looking still from her tower, +like Sister Anne in the story of what's-his-name! Perhaps, if I could, I +would better hold out just—</p> + +<p>"Um—<i>ah</i>, I see! It <i>was</i>, then!"—he was nodding with an air of +understanding, pausing in the struggle with the refractory cigar. His +strained and reddened face shaped sympathetically. "Just what <i>I</i> +thought and told 'em!" he bobbed with satisfaction. "<i>I</i> understand! You +ain't got no need to make no explanations to <i>me</i>!" and he lifted his +fat hand to restrain them. "Why, my wife's own grandmother had a club +foot, and to her last day if she got outer bed on the wrong side, the +old lady went a header sure—oh, <i>I</i> know!"</p> + +<p>A moment before, I had thought that so far as the mere matter of jolly +misery was concerned, I had sounded the what-you-call-'ems; but now my +dashed brain was reeling before this new horror! To think that <i>she</i> +was—but oh, it <i>couldn't</i> be! And yet I recalled ominously that most of +the time I had known her, I had only seen her sitting!</p> + +<p>Mr. O'Keefe exerted another vain pull at his cigar and poised it +critically between his fingers. "I don't seem to make this piece of rope +go," he remarked superfluously, and I thought his eye cut me with a mild +reproach. There was nothing to do but take the hint and produce my +case—just refilled in my room with Paloma perfectos. Oh, I was glad to +do it, by Jove!—glad to be able to do it—devilish glad to find I +wasn't paralyzed, I mean!</p> + +<p>"Why, thanks!" His fingers only removed three cigars, but I just made +him take them all! <i>Oh</i>, yes, for the case would <i>have</i> to be refilled +now, anyhow, dash it!</p> + +<p>"By-y-y the way, sir!" He closed one eye at me as he carved from the +brown beauty a half inch of its waxy bud, using for the maltreatment a +perfectly brutal knife. "That was a neat try-on you made to copper the +thief yourself—a <i>leetle</i> irregular, you know," he shook his head at +me, "but, as the captain said, we ain't making no point about that with +a gent like <i>you</i>—sure not!"—another imperishable line of beauty upon +the receptive stone, and he puffed inhalations of joy. "But I knew you +never could get him to the station—I could have told you."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I remarked, puzzled. By Jove, I had a dashed awful thought for a +moment that I must be losing my intelligence! I looked at Jenkins again, +but he had not yet come back to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm on, sir!" Another one of those awful winks as his club +scratched his helmet sideways. "You know I saw everything—I was right +there at the Kahoka, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>that</i>!" I said, understanding. For I knew then that he was talking +about Foxy Grandpa in my rooms. I had almost forgotten the jolly old +vagabond, but it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to show some +interest as they must have recaptured him along with the pajamas. "I +say!" I chirped up, "did you have much trouble about it—getting him +again, you know?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" O'Keefe's lip doubled contemptuously. "It was easy as +butter!" His hand spread, palm downward, in an expressive gesture. "Why, +he doubled right back to the Kahoka!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you know!" I exclaimed, startled.</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know! I collared him right in front and with the +goods!" Mr. O'Keefe expectorated eloquently. "My, but he did put up an +awful holler—said the pajamas were his own and he had just had 'em +made. And bluff—<i>well</i>!"—he fanned the air for a moment in the effort +to find an appropriate gesture—"I'm used to these swell con men, but +that gun was the limit—pulled out a card case, mind you, and letters, +and wanted me to go with him to his club—his <i>club</i>—" the big fellow +doubled over in a spasm of mirth that all but choked him. "I told him +I'd <i>give</i> him the club if he didn't go quietly—for you see I +recognized him in a minute; you can't lose them freak kind! Besides, he +give himself away: told me he'd overlook my conduct on this occasion +<i>and the other</i>, if I would release him. Well, that was enough! I +beckoned Jimmy Dwyer across and we run him down the line to the station. +Oh, we got him there, but it wasn't easy—for <i>him</i>! And there he'll +stay a while!"</p> + +<p>He had to pause and pump air, he was so winded.</p> + +<p>"Jove!" I said absently. Fact is, I was getting jolly tired standing so +long—never had stood so long that I could remember. Wondered if the +housekeeper wasn't getting tired, too, wherever she was watching from! +Better give her a few minutes more, though; so I shifted to the other +leg, but yawned comfortably and openly. As for Jenkins, he had just +frozen up like a jolly image, his eyes getting filmier and duller as +O'Keefe proceeded, his chin gradually working higher and his mouth +corners lower, until now they almost pointed to the ground. He was +impressive and devilish correct, but somehow the whole dashed thing +seemed lost on O'Keefe.</p> + +<p>He even asked Jenkins for a match—but of course received no attention. +"Gone off in a trance!" he said to me, with a vulgar jerk of his fat +thumb. And then he touched Jenkins with his stick—fact; touched +him!—and winked!</p> + +<p>"But it <i>woulder</i> tickled you," he resumed, using one of the vestas I +extended and puffing the cigar until it almost flamed, "if you coulder +seen the grand-stand play this guy put up before the sergeant! But the +old man just let him blow it all off; just sat there calm behind the +desk, chewing away and jabbing a pen through the blotter, while this +stiff fumed and spouted—oh, something scandalous—bringing in the names +of mighty near all the important people in New York; his <i>friends</i>, he +said! Oh, yes, he mentioned <i>you</i> in particular, sir!"—and his face +expanded in a relishing grin.</p> + +<p>"Dashed impudence!" I murmured feebly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh</i>, yes," carelessly, "but the sarge quieted him—just purty near +soothed him to sleep before he got <i>through</i>, you know—it's one of his +ways!"—his glance lifted solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Fine, you know!" I murmured admiringly. I reflected approvingly upon +what a dashed good thing it was to have a man in that position—whatever +it was—who was of such a devilish mild and gentle temperament: the +quiet word—the soft answer—the kindly remonstrance—all that sort of +thing, you know.</p> + +<p>"We're a leetle crowded now," the big cop pursued, reflectively gouging +into the mortar with the long blade of his knife, "and we had to put him +in the cell with a gorilla what's always wandering back to the jungle +for too much strong-arm work—maybe you read about him? He scragged a +whole family th' other night and threw 'em down the fire-escape."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I said uneasily. "But isn't he—er—rather dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Naw!</i>" A careless but vigorous head shake. "<i>Only</i> in his sleep, you +know—it's his dreams leads him off—<i>or</i> unless some one touches or +crowds him; then he gets peevish and—oh, well he <i>might</i>, of course—" +Mr. O'Keefe's expressive shrug finished out the idea. But I wouldn't +have heard it anyhow, I was in such a yawn.</p> + +<p>By Jove, I was sure the housekeeper would have chucked it by now, or +else worked herself up into a swoon! Why, <i>my</i> jolly foot was asleep! It +was safe to let him go. I looked at my watch and coughed, and Jenkins +came to and backed up to the door, sidling for me to pass within. The +policeman straightened his helmet and murmured words of adieu.</p> + +<p>"But, if no offense, there's just one question I'd like to ask you, +sir." He swung his club with a smiling, genial air.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, no!" I responded absently.</p> + +<p>My eye had been suddenly attracted by a feathery gleam of white through +the trees. It was slowly moving up the slope to a pavilion overlooking +the Tappan Zee.</p> + +<p>He drew nearer with a confidential air. "Just a little argument I had +with the old woman, you know, about them pajamas. Would you mind telling +me—<i>as</i> man to man, y'understand—if them garments is"—his voice +dropped—"is like her real shape—figger, I mean—h'm?" And he tapped +the parcel lightly with his stick.</p> + +<p>Jenkins cleared his throat loudly and shifted the pajamas to his other +side. As for myself, I just winced as under the stroke of a +what-you-call-it, but one end of my dashed brain was being pulled by the +flashing play of the dappling sunlight there upon—</p> + +<p>"By Jove, her figure exactly!" I ejaculated, staring.</p> + +<p>For it <i>was</i> her—no, dash it, <i>she</i>, I mean! I had a perfectly clear +view of her now as she paused on a little point and hung there looking +out over the Hudson. In her hand was a full-blown, ripened rose, and her +lips were shaping in ravishing little pouts as musingly she blew the +petals from her. But go they would not, but hugged back in the arms of +the light breeze, circling and fluttering about her glorious sunny head +like a swarm of rosy butterflies. It made a pretty picture!</p> + +<p>"And what's more, they're just her color, too!" I murmured tenderly, +forgetful of everything but her, unmindful that I was not alone. For +under my hand I could feel my jolly heart quivering like a champagne +cork, freshly unfettered and thrilling eagerly under the impulse of the +mad, dancing, joyous spirit within.</p> + +<p>"The one lovely woman in all the world!" I breathed aloud, and I felt my +eyes grow oddly moist.</p> + +<p>And for a minute I went off in a jolly trance.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, sir!"</p> + +<p>It was O'Keefe's voice—oddly constrained.</p> + +<p>"Eh?" I ejaculated, blinking at him as I came back. Then I +remembered—but what was it he had been asking? Something—</p> + +<p>"Just, good-by!" he repeated with elaborated gentleness. Then, +straightening: "<i>No</i> offense, I hope, if we let it go at that—I mean, I +guess you won't miss it if we <i>don't</i> shake hands?"</p> + +<p>I glanced at the gloves he was drawing on.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, no!" I responded absently, and my eyes coasted up the +slope again—then dropped back disappointedly, for she had disappeared +within the pavilion.</p> + +<p>"Of course, rich people has got privileges," Mr. O'Keefe was ruminating +somberly; "and I ain't saying a word, not a word, mind you!"—the glove +that lightly emphasized this displayed all fingers widely and generously +spread. "The captain'll tell you he ain't having to tell me, like some +of 'em, to be careful about keeping off the grass"—he shrugged—"oh, +well, perhaps enough said!"—and he turned away.</p> + +<p>Then he turned back. "Of course, that other part of it"—it would seem +that his club, extended pistol-like, was not leveled at Jenkins so much +as at the pajamas—"of course, nobody can't <i>help</i> that—that's +Nature—I'm some that way myself, though nothing like <i>so</i> much, and +nothing like so heavy as I was. We'll leave that part out of it—<i>I'm</i> +willing—but, <i>gentlemen</i>"—Jenkins paled, and swayed so horribly, I was +almost sure he would go—"when it comes to—comes to—" With a helpless +head-shake, he gave it up and contented himself with expectorating +violently upon the ground. Then he moved slowly away.</p> + +<p>His helmet tossed as he looked back. "I guess we <i>all</i>'ve got our little +prejudices," he remarked sententiously; "I know <i>I</i> have! I'm from the +South!"</p> + +<p>And without another word, Mr. O'Keefe presented his broad back to us, +and swinging his stick carelessly, sauntered down the drive.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce!" I exclaimed, looking after him. "I say, Jenkins, what +did he mean?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins' face expressed mild reproach and surprise.</p> + +<p>"Can it possibly matter, sir?" he questioned wearily. "Persons +of—er—that sort, you know, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Jove!" I uttered, relieved.</p> + +<p>Jenkins' coldly elevated brows dismissed the matter from further +consideration. He lifted the parcel with a slight gesture of inquiry.</p> + +<p>I had already come to a decision about it: I would send it to Billings! +Perhaps the retrieving of the pajamas would have a soothing effect upon +his poor mind!</p> + +<p>I gave Jenkins instructions. "H'm! Of course, manage to speak with him +alone," I cautioned, having thought of Judge Billings; "and don't forget +the message."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," said Jenkins attentively. "I'm just to say: 'Mr. +Lightnut's compliments, sir, and he says <i>you'll</i> know what to do with +these.'"</p> + +<p>I nodded. "Exactly, and I'll wait here—but, oh, hurry, dash it!" And I +looked longingly at the pavilion and tried to feel if my part was right.</p> + +<p>He <i>did</i> hurry! By Jove, he was back almost immediately and looking a +bit rattled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!"—he coughed as I screwed my glass inquiringly—"I got there +just as the judge went into his room across the corridor, and Mr. +Billings opened the door the minute I said I was from you. I gave him +the package and the message and he took it over in a corner; and then in +about a minute I heard him chuck it somewhere and say some long word. He +came back to me, looking kinder irritated and with his eyes snapping."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I uttered nervously. "Er, what did he say, Jenkins?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins sighed. "Oh, well, sir, nothing as you might say was anything, +<i>really</i>; he jerks out kinder crossly: 'Tell Mr. Lightnut, I say one +thing at a time, and give him this!'"</p> + +<p>On the scrap of paper I clutched out of Jenkins' hand was a crazy scrawl +of just a half-dozen words:</p> + +<p><i>I'm a biped, not a centipede!</i></p> + +<p>I squinted through the dashed thing twice, but could make nothing of +it—I even tried it backward!</p> + +<p>"Jove!" I muttered perplexedly. "It's rum, Jenkins!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins' mouth tightened and relaxed. "H'm, what <i>I</i> thought, sir," he +responded soberly. "The demon rum, sir!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>"IF EVER I FIND A MAN!"</h3> + + +<p>"I trust you've not been getting into trouble, Mr. Lightnut!"</p> + +<p>Her lovely eyes were dancing with mischief as they hung there below +mine—eyes, bluer than the Hudson at our feet; yet between the jolly +ripples that played across those pools of truth I could glimpse far down +into depths that were the most devilishly entrancing, darkly, deeply, +beautifully—oh, <i>you</i> know!</p> + +<p>Why, by Jove, I almost took a cropper right into them! Only caught just +in time, you know; straightened right on the verge, as it were—and came +up with a gasp, monocle dangling.</p> + +<p>Had almost forgotten the dashed windows—and the two cats that might be +looking out!</p> + +<p>I murmured some jolly apology, adding:</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—quite so; certainly! I <i>mean</i>—eh what?"</p> + +<p>She was smiling, her rose-petal lip dragging through her teeth.</p> + +<p>"The 'bobby,' you know, just now"—she nodded toward the +<i>porte-cochère</i>—"I was positive he had come to drag you away to your +loathsome dungeon. And when he retired, I was—oh, <i>so</i> relieved!" And +she clasped her hands, her eyes lifting upward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say now—were you, though?" I grinned delightedly and slipping to +a rustic chair beside her, looked her affectionately in the eye. For all +her air of chaffing, I knew that under it was a current of anxiety for +me—the darling!</p> + +<p>I screwed my glass at her tenderly.</p> + +<p>"What would you have done," I said softly, "if he had—er—lugged me +off, you know?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Can</i> you ask?" What a reproachful side-glance she shot me through the +meshes of her silken what-you-call-'ems! "Why, of course, I should have +drawn my good excalibar and run him thr-r-rough and thr-r-r-ough!"</p> + +<p>By Jove, how she said it! And she illustrated with the stemless +rose—dash it, no; the roseless stem! She was <i>superb</i>—looked like the +jolly fencing girl; only a dashed sight more stunning, don't you know! +And her excalibar, too! Didn't know what a jolly excalibar was, but +guessed it was some delightfully mysterious but deadly feminine +thing—some kind of submerged hat-pin-sort-of-thing, you know—<i>that</i> +sort, dash it! Yet she would have drawn it—and her <i>good</i> one, too, she +said!</p> + +<p>"Jove!" I said feelingly. "Would you, <i>really</i>?" And I almost took her +hand—and again remembered the windows! So I just shot her a look.</p> + +<p>Her glorious eyes sparkled. "That is, I would if I had one," she said +smiling; "but I'm afraid poor Arthur lost the last and only one. Sad, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>I just felt my jolly heart sink like what's-its-name. Who the deuce was +"poor Arthur?" This must be another—some other thundering chap who had +been engaged to her. And what a rotten, careless beggar, too, to have +lost it—that is, if he <i>really</i> had! Of course, he would say so, +anyhow. And how the deuce did he get it, in the first place—did she +give it to him, or did he—</p> + +<p>By Jove, how I should have liked to punch Arthur's head! Always did hate +a chap with that name! I flushed guiltily, but she did not see. For the +moment, she was looking off dreamily across the valley.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said pensively, "why it is one can never find another +man like Arthur. Do you suppose it is because he was the ideal?"</p> + +<p>For an instant, I swallowed hard—then I plucked up bravely, or tried +to, don't you know.</p> + +<p>"Jolly likely!" I chirped. Then gloomily: "Oh, I say, you know, was he +<i>your</i> ideal?"</p> + +<p>"Always!"—the blue eyes lighted wistfully—"I suppose it's because he +was my first love; I found him so brave, so noble-mannered, you know—so +simple!"</p> + +<p><i>Simple!</i> Dash simple people—never could stand them! Thing <i>I</i> admired +was brains! Aloud I said gently—almost humbly:</p> + +<p>"So glad you like him, don't you know—<i>did</i> like, I mean!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Did</i> like? I do still!"—her tone lifted in earnest protest—"I love +to think of brave, dear Arthur and his knights—so few, and yet so full +of love, of gallantry and daring!"</p> + +<p>So <i>his</i> nights were like that! By Jove, I was devilish glad then that +they had been <i>so few</i>—that was some comfort, dash it! I wondered if +the beggar was dead. But what difference did it make now, after all? She +was mine now and she knew I knew it; that was why this sweet, ingenuous +child was laying bare to me her past—the darling!</p> + +<p>Really, I ought not to let her go on.</p> + +<p>"Never mind them now," I urged soothingly. And heedless of the windows, +I hitched a wee bit closer. "That's all past and gone and you and I will +yet see as good nights as they <i>ever</i> were." I spoke with assurance. +"Don't <i>you</i> think so?" I added softly.</p> + +<p>She sighed. "I don't know—I hope so!"—she lingered dubiously over it, +looking away again, the while her hand put back the fleecy, golden +what-you-call-it that was snuggling to her eyes. I looked at the +goddess-like forearm, bared to above the elbow, where it slipped from +sight under the roll of sleeve, and thought of that night in my +apartment when she had made me feel of her biceps, don't you know.</p> + +<p>How deliciously shy she was! Remembered hearing Pugsley say they are +often that way with the development of love. Told me he thought he'd get +married once—looked over the girls of his set and picked out one; then +he went to see her. She was devilish cordial at first and until Pugsley +began to tell her about it, then she began to grow agitated—finally +went out of the room and had hysterics. <i>Next</i> time he saw her she +hardly was able to speak to him! Said that ended it and he passed her +up—too dashed much bother trying to follow 'em, he decided; they were +too high-strung, too emotional, too uncertain of themselves, <i>he</i> +thought.</p> + +<p>I gave her five seconds, and then—</p> + +<p>"You don't <i>know</i>?" I repeated with gentle reproach. "Oh, I say, you +know! You know you <i>know</i> you know!" By Jove, that sounded rather rum, +but I knew she knew I knew she <i>knew</i>—see?</p> + +<p>She looked at me sidewise, her slender forefinger pressing the +half-parted lips slowly shaping in a curve. Then her little teeth +flashed, jewel-like—regular jolly pearl setting in the frankest, +sweetest smile!—and then her glorious arm and wrist arched suddenly +toward me.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she said contritely, and with the most delightful, kindest +inflection and laugh—such a laugh!—a laugh gurglingly melodious—oh, +dash it, yes; I mean just that!—like the flute notes in the overture to +what's-his-name—<i>that</i> sort!</p> + +<p>"That's the way I love to hear a man talk!" she said warmly. "I think +it takes an American to stand up for his own place, his own +times—<i>please</i>!"</p> + +<p>And gently, but with a lovely smile, she withdrew her hand that I had +folded close in mine. I let it go, for I saw her look toward the house, +and, of course, <i>I</i> understood—jolly careless of me not to have +remembered—but she would know from my nod and shrug that I +comprehended.</p> + +<p>And really, by Jove, it was almost as pleasant as holding her hand, just +to watch her leaning back against the iron pillar about which curved the +dark-leaved tendrils of some purple-flowering vine. By Jove, she just +looked like a stunning, white, Easter-card angel—that's what!—even to +the golden hair they always have and the jolly wings; for her gleaming +arms, spread behind her head, made you think of that. But <i>that</i> was as +near as one of them could come to her, for no golden-haired angel in +white flowing nightgown was ever a patch on her for <i>style</i>!</p> + +<p>Never a one could look so <i>chic</i> as she did in her smart linen suit, +with its blue flannel collar, caught low with a flowing, breezy tie; and +no jolly angel <i>I</i> ever saw pictured could sport a waist like that, so +dainty, so modish, so jolly snug and—er—squeezable, don't you +know—<i>never</i>! And I was devilish sure that no barefooted or sandaled +angel would ever dare to put a foot beside one of those little white +Oxfords or that arching instep, just blushing faintly through the silken +mesh that held it—well, I guess not! And where the angel, I should +like to know, that could match her glorious, fluffy pompadour or the +distracting little golden smoke wisps that whirled and pulled and +tangled and tossed and twisted and tugged, trying to lift her in their +feeble arms into the current of the wandering breeze?</p> + +<p>I sighed, and my deep breath brought her gaze back to me and her +flashing smile as well.</p> + +<p>"And so," she said, lifting her little chin, "you think there are just +as many knights now as there used to be?"</p> + +<p>I almost laughed at the child-like question—but I didn't! Dash it, no, +I wouldn't have done so for the world. Just looked at her seriously and +answered her in kind:</p> + +<p>"Perfectly sure of it, don't you know!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, I was! Knew if there had been any change, some +newspaper-reading chap at the club would have mentioned it—<i>that</i> was +safe: especially one silly ass who was always reading of some jolly +comet that was coming. <i>He</i> would know about the nights.</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, yes, there are just as many," I affirmed positively, and added +quickly: "<i>More</i>, you know!" For suddenly I remembered it was leap-year, +and I knew there was some jolly rhyme about leap-year gives us one day +more—so, of course, there'd be another <i>night</i>!</p> + +<p>"You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that," she said musingly. +"There are just as many knights, you mean, but the conditions have +changed—the <i>man</i> is changed—is that it?"</p> + +<p>I should say the man was changed! "Oh, dash it, yes!" I blurted. By +Jove, I hoped there wouldn't be another change.</p> + +<p>"You mean"—with a little, challenging, puzzled smile, she leaned +forward, her elbow resting upon her knee like a sculptured, Grecian +pillar; her flower-like curving fingers supporting her chin like a +Corinthian what's-its-name, you know, the sort of thing the ancient +what-you-call-'ems always added to top off their stunning marble +columns—<i>you</i> know!—well, like that—"you mean we may find knights, +not only in the field, but in the shops, upon the streets—even in the +slums; or in the hospitals, in the church or even on the bench—<i>that</i> +is your idea?"</p> + +<p>It <i>wasn't</i> my idea at all—I should say not! Who wanted to spend nights +prowling around <i>that</i> way? Why—why, it wasn't respectable, dash it! +Besides, that sort of thing—excursioning about seeing things—was +devilish tiresome, if you asked me. I never did do it, even abroad, +where you meet Americans, jolly bored and tired, doing all sorts of rum +places no one else ever thinks of, don't you know.</p> + +<p>And as for a <i>bench</i>! Well, it was like her, in her innocence of the +world, not to know how downright vulgar that would be. I had seen +couples sitting evenings in the park—and I <i>knew</i>!</p> + +<p>But I answered tactfully:</p> + +<p>"I don't mean those places so much, don't you know—I think we can find +lots jollier and better nights elsewhere." And I closed my free eye and +beamed at her through my glass. "Don't have to go so far, you know; +under one's own roof, or—er—some one else's roof, for instance—why +not <i>here</i>?" I jerked my head toward the old stone pile behind us.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"—her eyebrows lifted at me—"so you've thought of that, too?"—she +nodded gravely—"you mean in the library there?"</p> + +<p>I winked assent.</p> + +<p>The library suited <i>me</i> all right!</p> + +<p>"Just now," she said in an oddly sobered voice, "I looked in as I passed +through, and he was looking so crushed, so worn and tired, you know—he +had just come from up-stairs; and yet he faced me so bravely and +smilingly"—she shook her head—"poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>I stared—puzzled, don't you know. Offhand, dash me if I could see what +the judge had to do with our evenings together—why, I had his own +approval of my suit. Then I remembered that she, of course, didn't know +that—<i>yet</i>. Probably what she had in her dear little mind was that he +might be holding the library—and he <i>would</i>, if he continued to think +he was busy; for I had heard him say he expected to work all night. But +then, there were dozens and dozens of others places we could go—well, +I should just <i>say</i>!</p> + +<p>I had just bent forward to suggest this to her when I saw she was going +to speak. So I waited, smiling at her tenderly.</p> + +<p>"And about Arthur—" she began, and I cut myself a painful stab with my +nails—right in the palm—"now there is a case where I think you +find"—she nodded toward the house again—"where you find one of his +superb qualities, the one quality that, of all, I admire in a man the +most."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said, leaning forward. I wondered what it was—and then, +dash it, I asked her.</p> + +<p>"Just <i>trust</i>!" she said simply, and her face grew luminous. "Faith, +perhaps I should say. <i>My</i> father has it larger than any man I ever +knew; it is something that goes out from him with his friendship, with +his love, making a dual gift"—her voice dropped thoughtfully—"I have +studied it in him all my life, and it has always seemed so beautiful to +me—so wonderful—the unquestioning peace he has"—her blue eyes +widened, shining—"has ever in return for the perfect, abiding trust +that he gives to the thing he calls his own. I <i>know</i>, for he has made +<i>me</i> feel it from the time I was a tiny little girl!" The last word was +almost a whisper, so tense, so vibrant with feeling was it—she <i>seemed</i> +to have forgotten my existence. "And if ever I find a man—" she +breathed.</p> + +<p>I coughed slightly and she started, stared at me—and then the dimple +deepened in her cheek, lost in a bed of jolly roses. Her laughter pealed +forth, birdlike—delicious!</p> + +<p>"I <i>beg</i> your pardon!" she said. "But when I think of papa and of how he +believes in his children, especially poor little <i>me</i>, I think I must +get—" Her roguish, puzzled smile searched my face. "<i>How</i> is it you say +it?—oh, I know—'I think I must be getting <i>dippy</i>!'"</p> + +<p>And it was the first slang I had heard from those sweet lips since the +night she was in my rooms!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>"BECAUSE YOU—ARE YOU"</h3> + + +<p>Poor, brave-hearted girl! How pitiful and heartrending to a keen-eyed +man of the world, seemed her poor, little sham about her father's trust +in her! For <i>I</i> knew the facts, you know!</p> + +<p>What a little thoroughbred she was! By Jove, I just sat there for a full +two minutes, bending toward her worshipfully, but with such a lump +choking my devilish throat that dash me if I could chirp a single word. +Just sat there—that's all—blinking damply at her with my free eye, +studying with growing wonder the light she managed to summon to her +face; heartsick for the care-free mockery of the cherry lips, shaping +seemingly in a meditative whistle; all my jolly heart beating time to +the lithesome tapping of her smart little boot upon the wooden floor. +And she? She, brave heart, leaning back watching me through her long, +fringing lashes—forcing a quizzical smile to her face, the while the +jolly worm was gnawing at her what-you-call-'ems!</p> + +<p>And suddenly it came to me that I just couldn't and wouldn't let her go +on this way, without the sympathy of the man she loved; without the +precious consolation of knowing that he knew! She was being badgered and +rough-shouldered and put upon and distrusted and maligned by every one +she knew, and she had <i>no</i> one in all the world to turn to but me—and—</p> + +<p>Oh, I wanted her to know what <i>I</i> thought, don't you know!</p> + +<p>I slipped to the seat beside her.</p> + +<p>"Er, Miss Billings—" I began, thinking absentmindedly of what I should +say, and forgetting that we were quite alone.</p> + +<p>"'Miss Billings!' <i>Why</i> do you call me that?" Her lovely brows puckered. +"I remember, now, that's twice you—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Frances</i>, then!" I corrected softly.</p> + +<p>She straightened, her bosom lifting with a quick intake. By Jove, that +was what she wanted!</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Then she leaned slowly back, looking at me thoughtfully through +half-closed eyes, her lips parted in the oddest smile.</p> + +<p>And I screwed my monocle tight and let her have smile for smile, +determined to chirp her up and make her feel our oneness—that sort of +thing, you know. And I succeeded! For of a sudden her head went back and +the joyous peal of her canary laugh started off the jolly birds in the +trees above us.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you—" A stare, and then another burst as she bent forward, face +buried in her hands. Then it lifted sharply, flame-dyed—her lips +tremulous, her eyes shining like sapphire stars. "Oh!" she gasped, and +how I envied the little hand she pressed against her waist; but the +windows—dash the windows! "That's—that's <i>it</i>—Frances—just that +much! But, do you know, I don't—don't believe you really know my full +name. I remember now several th—" She bent toward me witchingly, her +wide blue eyes challenging my candor. "<i>Honestly</i>, now—<i>do</i>—you?"</p> + +<p>So it was <i>that</i> thought that was tickling her! Well, by Jove, I had her +there, for I had heard the judge mention her name in full. I would +surprise her!</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i> I?" I exclaimed, winking as I polished my glass. "Well, how +about Frances Leslie Billings?" I let her have it slowly, distinctly, +and with yet a note of triumph I could not altogether hide. And then +remorseful for her amazed expression, I explained frankly: "Got it from +your father this morning, don't you know, during our long talk about you +in the library."</p> + +<p>"Wh—"</p> + +<p>Then she swallowed and her face fell perfectly blank. By Jove, I could +have kicked myself for a jolly ass for breaking it to her so raw! Of +course, she would know that if her father talked of her, it would be +nothing for me to hear that was true or kind—nothing she could wish +might be said to the man she loved.</p> + +<p>I hastened to reassure her:</p> + +<p>"But I don't believe a dashed word of anything he said about you"—I +spoke hotly—"and I don't care a jolly hang for what the others said, +either—so there you are!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you <i>don't</i>?" Could tell how I had touched her by her expression, +don't you know; and she fell to looking at me the queerest way. "And +would you mind telling me who the 'others' are?"</p> + +<p>I eyed her gloomily, sympathetically. As <i>if</i> she didn't know already!</p> + +<p>"Well—oh, dash it, my mind has been filled with—er—just anything!" I +began cautiously.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> know,"—she murmured it as if to herself—"one can <i>see</i> that!" And +she bit her lip.</p> + +<p>"In the first place, you know"—and there I pulled up. No, dash it, I +wasn't going to say a jolly word about poor Jack—no, <i>sir</i>! But then, +about the other one—well, <i>she</i> was just a treacherous snake in the +what's-its-name, and she ought to be exposed. By Jove, she should be!</p> + +<p>"It's the frump, you know," I said indignantly.</p> + +<p>"The—the <i>what</i>?"</p> + +<p>Her pretty teeth flashed like the keyboards of a tiny organ—you could +even hear a little gurgly, musical quiver somewhere behind. And then I +remembered that, of course, she wouldn't know whom I meant.</p> + +<p>"Oh, your guest, you know—your friend from school," I went on, trying +to tread cautiously and yet feeling myself growing red. "Oh, see here +now, I don't like to say things, but—er—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>go</i> on!" she trilled, her sweet face shining wistful.</p> + +<p>"Well, I mean this—er—Miss Kirkland; came out with us this +morning, don't you know. <i>I</i> think of her as <i>the frump</i>—little +idea—er—nickname of mine, you know, she's so <i>awful</i>!" And I screwed +my glass with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>For an instant I thought she wouldn't catch it, she stared at me so +blankly. <i>Then</i> the joke of it—the jolly aptness, so to speak—got her +full and square, and she just lifted a scream, hugging her knee and +rocking back and forth, her face suffused, her laughter pealing like a +chime of bells.</p> + +<p>And I just rocked, too, keeping her company. Really, I don't think I +ever laughed so much since some chap plunked down on the hard crown of +my new tile last winter. At least I <i>wanted</i> to laugh—in church, you +know, and it's so awful how you feel there when something—oh, <i>you</i> +know! And if you could have seen that poor fellow's face!</p> + +<p>By Jove, how glad I was for her jolly sense of humor that could see the +point of things so quickly, and think them <i>clever</i>. Always had so +dashed little patience with stupid people, don't you know. And just here +another little thing came to me and I let her have it:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!"—I leaned nearer, chuckling—"your father pretends to +think her a most beautiful and winning girl—<i>fancy</i>!" And my face +stretched itself in such a jolly grin that I could hardly hold my glass.</p> + +<p>She bent toward me, smiling adorably. "You mean this—er—'Miss +Kirkland'?"</p> + +<p>I nodded chortlingly.</p> + +<p>She peered at me through her long what-you-call-'ems—oh, <i>such</i> a way!</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i> don't think so, <i>do</i> you?" How sweetly, how fetchingly she +said it!</p> + +<p>"Me?" I gasped. By Jove, in my horror, I lost my grip upon my jolly +grammar. "Oh, I say now! <i>I</i> think the frump—this Miss Kirkland, you +know—is a fright—regular freak, dash it! I told the judge so!"</p> + +<p>"You—you—"</p> + +<p>"Of <i>course</i>!" And I shrugged disgustedly, making the ugliest grimace I +possibly could. "Why, dash it, if I were a woman and had a face like +hers, I never would have left China, or England—or wherever her jolly +home was—<i>no, sir</i>!"</p> + +<p>She caught her breath with a little gasp—then she was off again! This +time she rested her arms upon the rail behind and buried her head in +them, her lovely shoulders jiggling up and down, her sobbing laughter +sending her off at last into a spell of coughing.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she breathed, lifting at last her gloriously blushing face and +dabbing at it with her ridiculous little handkerchief, "oh, you'll +<i>kill</i> me—I know you will!"</p> + +<p>I certainly had stirred her up, and I was delighted. It <i>was</i> funny to +think of any one calling the frump beautiful—it must seem funnier still +to her, of course—to Frances, I mean. Why, dash it, <i>she</i> seemed to +find a funny side to it that I didn't, don't you know!</p> + +<p>"Tell me, now"—she clasped her knee, lifting her lovely face +coaxingly—"tell me all that she said about me—<i>everything</i>!"</p> + +<p>And I did—every word, by Jove!</p> + +<p>And no one could look into that sweet, ingenuous face as I proceeded, +and doubt that the slanders were new to her. Never a jolly one touched +her—only you could see their absurdity amused her. Several times I had +to pause as she bent under a gale of laughter.</p> + +<p>Only once was she brought up, shocked.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she uttered faintly, as I came to the intimation about her being +hail-fellow-well-met with the footmen and her drinking and carousing +with them and other men-servants until three in the morning. I realized +that it wasn't the matter of the drinking that feazed her and drew from +her little gasps as I came to this—knew <i>that</i> didn't bother her, don't +you know, for I knew she did drink—<i>could</i> drink, I mean to say; for I +had not forgotten the two full whisky glasses of high-proof Scotch she +had tossed off that night in my rooms. Why, no, dash it, she was <i>able</i> +to drink—it went in the family! I could never forget with what pride +she had told me of putting her brother Jack under the table two nights +running. <i>That</i> was all right—it was the other part of the frump's +scandal that brought her up, standing, so to speak.</p> + +<p>For <i>now</i> she really looked embarrassed, despite another lapse to +laughter. Her face and neck were dyed a lovely crimson.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she said finally; and she wiped her eyes. "<i>What</i> you must +think of me!"—and she looked away, a pretty frown contracting her face; +then the jolly dimple deepened once again and she choked into her +handkerchief. "Oh, <i>dear</i>!" she repeated, biting her lip to hold her +quivering mouth corners. "Oh, it's a shame," I heard her mutter; "I +<i>mustn't</i> let him—it's too—" She wheeled upon me, her lips tightened. +"Oh!" she ejaculated sharply, almost petulantly, and her foot struck +smartly on the boards. "I wonder how much you think—think—"</p> + +<p>"Think <i>lots</i>," I said simply, watching her little toe as it tapped.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> should think as much!" And this time her laugh was +short—oddly constrained. She looked away off down the slope to the +river. "<i>Oh!</i>" This time it was a tiny gasp as of dismay. And the toe +tapped like an electric what's-its-name.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, watching it musingly, "I suppose it's because you're the +only girl, don't you know, that I ever <i>did</i> think of before—oh, ever +at all, dash it!"</p> + +<p>The toe stopped. I could <i>feel</i> her looking at me sidewise, but I did +not glance up, that I remember; was looking down, trying to get hold of +a dashed idea I wanted to express.</p> + +<p>"Don't know," I continued, boring away at her toe, yet hardly seeing it, +"but suppose that's the reason I knew all the time she was <i>lying</i>; but +still, somehow that doesn't seem to be the <i>real</i> reason I knew. I think +the real reason I knew it couldn't be and wasn't true was"—I sighed +heavily—"oh, dash it, it's <i>so</i> hard to get hold of the jolly thing!"</p> + +<p>And there was a pause.</p> + +<p>"The real reason?" her voice coaxed gently.</p> + +<p>"Was because—" Then she moved the toe and it put me out—"I think just +because—oh, yes, I <i>know</i> now!" And I looked up eagerly. "Just because +I knew that you—are <i>you</i>!" I finished beamingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!" She said it musingly, her finger lightly pressing upon her +lips, her beautiful eyes studying me with the oddest, keenest +side-glance.</p> + +<p>A pause; and then: "And <i>how</i> long have you known me, pray? Just a—"</p> + +<p>"A thousand years!" I said promptly and earnestly. "A thousand years and +all my life, don't you know! Never will know you any better."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she murmured, nodding slowly. And then for a moment she +didn't say a word, just sat there looking me over curiously, her +expression half shy, half quizzical, don't you know.</p> + +<p>Then her smile flashed again—a radiant, dazzling brightness that +brought her nearer, like the effect of the sunlight's sudden gleam there +at times upon the blue line of the "West Shore" away across the broad, +three-mile span of the old Tappan Zee.</p> + +<p>"And now"—again her splendid young arms were clasped, wing-like, behind +her head; and its golden glory hung like a picture against the dark vine +leaves, bossed with the clustered purple flowers—"now," she repeated, +settling comfortably, "you must just go on and tell me the rest—I can +bear it! What did my"—her big blue eyes twinkled as she smiled—"my +father say about me?"</p> + +<p>I shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, I can't, you know!" I demurred. "I say, +what's the use, dash it?" Poor old boy, somehow I just hated to round on +him—he was so jolly hard hit already; Jack, don't you know! Besides—</p> + +<p>"Please!" Jove, how she said it!</p> + +<p>"Oh, dash it, I'm afraid it will hurt you," I protested uneasily; "and I +don't think the judge really—"</p> + +<p>"I just don't care <i>that</i>"—a snap from her little fingers and her arm +went back—"for anything <i>he</i> ever said about me that was <i>mean</i>! So, +please go on—I must go dress for luncheon."</p> + +<p>And so I just took a deep breath, a long running leap, and cleared the +bar—told her all, you know!</p> + +<p>Oddly, this time she didn't laugh—and I knew why: it was her father, +and it had cut her to the heart. This was what I had feared. As I +proceeded, narrating the interview in the library, she just grew rosier +and rosier red, but sat looking at me wide-eyed and unflinching. The +pulsation of her bosom quickened a little, but her dear face remained +unchanged, save for her little trick of dragging her under-lip through +her white teeth.</p> + +<p>"And, by Jove, that's all!" I finished with relief as I mopped my face. +"But who cares, don't you know, or believes any bit of it? Anyhow, <i>we</i> +don't—for we know!"</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i>?" She spoke gravely, yet in her eyes were the dancing +star-motes of a laugh. "The extravagance, the gambling, and the—oh, all +of it? I must tell you <i>I</i> heard some sad things myself about Francis +Billings while I was at Cambridge—"</p> + +<p>I grunted scornfully. "<i>I</i> know: from that two-faced cat, Miss Kirkland! +Say, how I wish, by Jove, that woman would pack up and go back to +China—the <i>sponge</i>!" And I screwed my glass indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, now!" she remonstrated sweetly, "you mustn't say <i>that</i>! You might +be sorry!" She smiled archly.</p> + +<p>I grunted contemptuously.</p> + +<p>Again she rested her little chin upon her hand, eying me thoughtfully, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"And so you don't believe any of it?"</p> + +<p>I chuckled at the idea. "Oh, I say now, Frances, you <i>know</i> I don't!" +And I shoved a bit nearer, looking into her eyes. But just then I saw +Wilkes come out and look around.</p> + +<p>And <i>she</i> must have glanced about quickly and have seen him, too, for as +I shifted my eyes to her again she was blushing furiously and had moved +a bit.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," she said measuredly, her chin lifting a little, "you do +believe—<i>part</i> of it!" And in her eyes was a glint of fire.</p> + +<p>And then as my face fell blankly, a slow little smile came creeping back +to hers. Her eyes softened.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she said gently; "I misunderstood!"</p> + +<p>The darling! And, dash it, if they were going to have vines to a +pavilion, why didn't they <i>have</i> vines?</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said, "I don't believe you <i>do</i> believe any of these +awful things could be true about me,"—her voice quickened here—"and do +you know I just think it's lovely of you! I <i>do</i>!" And her dear voice +dropped like the softer notes of a what's-its-name. Her hands lay in her +lap and she was studying me in the kindest, sweetest way! And I wanted +to tell her how good she was and how much I loved her, don't you know, +but just then, behind the pavilion, came the gardener. He was talking to +one of his assistants about slugs—<i>dash</i> slugs!</p> + +<p>And then her face lighted again as though she would speak and I leaned +eagerly toward her—waiting, expectant.</p> + +<p>"When Arthur made his court at—" she began, and, by Jove, my jolly +heart sank. If she would only drop Arthur and give me a chance to make +<i>my</i> court, dash it! "Camelot, you know," she went on, and I almost +groaned. What did <i>I</i> care that he came a lot? Perhaps, now, if I could +divert her mind—</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know," I broke in interestedly, "what was it you +were—er—humming—just now, don't you know."</p> + +<p>"Vivian's song—don't you remember it?"</p> + +<p>I tried to think, but I couldn't seem to place her, though I knew the +whole line of 'em back to Lottie Gilson.</p> + +<p>I finally had to shake my head.</p> + +<p>She smiled. "Don't you know," she said:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I think you hardly know the tender rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of "trust me not at all or all in all."'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She was right! I didn't know the jolly thing, that was a fact, but +somehow I liked the swing of it. She went on, and struck me with another +remark. By Jove, she seemed to have forgotten about the jolly song and I +was devilish glad, for <i>I</i> had rather hear her <i>talk</i>, don't you know.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours—'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"<i>If?</i>" I ejaculated reproachfully, hitching nearer. But she only +smiled, and continued her remark:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Oh!" I uttered. For, by Jove, she had said it—the thing I had felt all +the time and couldn't express; the something that had been with me all +along in connection with herself. And here <i>she</i> had the jolly idea pat +upon her tongue! I just blinked at her admiringly—didn't dare speak, +you know; afraid I'd break the thread of what's-its-name.</p> + +<p>She went on telling me something about a lover's lute, and it was hard +not to speak <i>then</i>, for I did so want to ask what a jolly lute was. And +then some remark about specks in garnered fruit—here her line of +thought had been changed, I knew, by some remark of the gardener +outside: something about worms and the orchard. However, I just chirped +up a nod and listened as attentively as though she had gone right on. +She was busy with her hair now, but with her mind still on the worm, +murmured abstractedly:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'That rotting inward slowly moulders all.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And just here, with a little clatter, her back comb struck the floor, +bounding to the other side of the pavilion. As I scrambled to get it, +her voice lifted through a choke of laughter:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'It is not worth the keeping; let it go!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The idea!</p> + +<p>I laughed as I caught the thing up and whirled, my hand outstretched to +lay it in her own. She was on her feet, pulling down her belt, and +paused to lift away a leaf that clung to her snowy skirt. And just here, +the gardener's voice lifted startlingly across the park to some one +distant and invisible:</p> + +<p>"Better bring paris green, Jud; it's the only way we'll ever get rid of +'em," he bawled. "I see they're going after the leaves now, and they can +live on them and air. Pizen'll fix 'em, though!"</p> + +<p>The comb outstretched, I stood staring at Frances, doubled over and +writhing. And then, with a long-drawn gasp that was half a screech, her +lithesome figure straightened, her head went back, and from her throat +there trilled the very joy of health and youth and happy days.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she gasped, her hand pressing to her side. And while I looked at +her anxiously, she went on pantingly, her eyes bright with tears:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'But shall it? Answer, darling, answer no,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trust me not at all or all in all.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Jove!" I said delightedly, placing the comb in her outstretched hand +and pressing it—the hand, I mean, dash it! "I <i>do</i>, don't you know! I +trust you all in all!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE JUDGE FIXES "FOXY GRANDPA"</h3> + + +<p>"But tell you, sir, he is <i>not</i> my son!" The judge was bending over the +desk 'phone as I looked in a half hour later. His voice rose in a +crescendo of rage: "Wha—what's <i>that</i>? Do I want to speak with him? +Certainly <i>not</i>, sir—and I <i>won't</i>!... Um, yes—John W. Billings—yes, +that's his name.... Stuff and nonsense, sir! He's up-stairs now in his +room.... Says what?"—the judge's eyes rolled frowningly upward as he +listened; then he licked his lips and bent again, speaking with +passionate incisiveness: "Why, dammit, man, I've just this minute been +talking to him—just left him, y'understand.... <i>Certainly</i> your man's +an impostor—<i>you</i> ought to know that!... Yes, this is Judge Billings, +himself.... Eh? Oh, that's all <i>right</i>, but now let me tell you +something"—he cleared his throat and gathered his voice in cold, +deliberate accents: "You let me be annoyed again from your precinct, and +I can promise <i>you</i> that.... Um, well that's all right then.... 'Bye!"</p> + +<p>He banged the receiver to the hook and faced about, muttering things to +himself.</p> + +<p>"Well, upon my word! Of all the—excuse me, Lightnut!" He wiped his +forehead, his glance abstracted and scowling. "Somebody is putting this +fool up to this—somebody trying to annoy me!" He uttered a short laugh +that was more of a snort. "There's some fool lunatic down in New York +that they've arrested and he's got a bug that he's my son! This is the +second offense. Caused me to lose two hours from my office yesterday in +the city and upset me for the whole day! And me so busy! busy!"—his +hands lifted toward the papers on the table—"so busy I can +hardly"—another snort, and he relighted his cigar, puffing +savagely—"looks like there's just one fool thing after another +interrupting me or absorbing my time!"</p> + +<p>"Jolly shame, you know!" I responded, dropping sympathetically into a +chair. I pushed the papers to one side so I could rest my elbow on the +table edge; besides, I saw they were fretting him—could tell by his +glances, you know.</p> + +<p>For another thing, I had got hold of a devilish shrewd idea I wanted to +break to him—about this chap who was pretending to be his son. I +remembered that the old rascal who had invaded my rooms had tried to +make me believe that <i>I</i> was his bosom friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know," I began, declining a cigar and selecting a +cigarette from my case, "I've an idea!"</p> + +<p>And I faced him impressively.</p> + +<p>"You've <i>what</i>?"—he straightened forward, with a kind of twisted +smile—interested, you know—"whatever makes you think <i>that</i>, my boy?"</p> + +<p>I waited, sending a long, thin smoke funnel upward. Kept him expectant, +you see, and gave me time to get hold of the corners of the jolly thing +myself. Catch the point? So devilish important when you have to lift an +idea, don't you know.</p> + +<p>"Rather fancy your chap's the same one I know of," I drawled, "an oldish +duffer—white mutton-chops—beefy sort of face—sunburn line and +baldish—all that sort of thing!"</p> + +<p>"Well, by-y-y George!"—he slapped his hand down—"I should say that +<i>was</i> a real idea! And you say you know this crazy fool?"</p> + +<p>"Crazy? He's not crazy!" I exclaimed indignantly, thinking of her +pajamas. "And he's no more <i>fool</i> than I am!"</p> + +<p>He fell back with a grunt. "Oh, well, I <i>know</i>—but—"</p> + +<p>He coughed. By Jove, he seemed disappointed, somehow!</p> + +<p>I proceeded calmly: "Real truth is, the beggar's a notorious criminal, +known to the police as Foxy Grandpa—pretends all sorts of things about +people, don't you know."</p> + +<p>"My dear Lightnut,"—he was staring at me, mouth distended—"why—how +the devil do <i>you</i> know this?"</p> + +<p>I inhaled deliberately. "Awfully simple, don't you know," I responded +quietly; and I let him wait till I had blown six rings. "Fact is, <i>I'm</i> +the one sent him to jail!"</p> + +<p>"You!"—his laugh was frankly amused, incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!"—carelessly—"found the fellow thieving in my rooms the other +night and called in police—oh, they recognized him in a minute!"</p> + +<p>He looked floored. "Well, what do you think of that?" he murmured +slowly. Then his face flushed and he sat erect. "And so <i>that's</i> all the +crazier the ruffian is—<i>that's</i> the kind of smart Alex that's been +trying to get gay with me—with <i>me</i>!" He started up, snorting like a +war-horse—"Huh! Well, <i>two</i> can play at that game, and"—his eyes +twinkled wrathfully—"I'll show him who's got the best hand! I'll +just—"</p> + +<p>The rest trailed off in a mutter. He had dropped beside the telephone +again, his cigar crushed firmly in the corner of his mouth, his gray +mustache bristling aggressively. I tried to trace the family resemblance +to Frances, but clashed if I could see a single point. And while I was +thinking of this, he got his number.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I heard, "I <i>do</i> want to speak to him personally—this is +Judge Billings!"—a moment, and then: "Morning, Commissioner—this is +Billings.... Fine, thank you!... Oh, no! No bad effects at all—takes +more than that to throw a seasoned old diner like my—.... What say?"—a +cackling chuckle—"yes, I knew the dinner would loosen <i>him</i> up! Had his +promise before we left the table; Soakem heard him—so did Benedict.... +Yes—<i>oh</i>, yes; he's got it—had it with me, you know, <i>in case</i>!... +No-o-o, of course not; not a single line or scrap!"—a lower drop of +tone—"just in a plain, blank envelope—best way always, you know.... +Yes, that gives us a safe margin in the Senate now, not even counting +upon what they do in committee—and Soakem'll take care of that end.... +Yes, he went back to Albany this morning—he says the bill's safely +deader'n Hector <i>now</i>.... Er, by the way, Commissioner,"—the judge +cleared his throat and his voice sobered: "Little favor I want to +ask—h'm! I'm being greatly annoyed by some low vagabond confined at one +of the stations.... <i>Yes</i>, I really mean it!—Captain Clutchem's +precinct, you know—and this ruffian insists to them that he's my +son.... No, <i>indeed</i>, I'm not joking at all.... All right, you may +laugh, but I fail to appreciate the funny side, myself—especially now, +you know, when I'm up to my neck in this merger case.... How's that? +What do I want <i>done</i>? Oh, I wouldn't venture to say as to <i>that</i>! I +leave that to <i>you</i>!... <i>I</i> know.... Yes, I understand all that, but ... +wait—wait just a minute! Now you listen—"</p> + +<p>The judge concentrated more intensely over the instrument.</p> + +<p>"You know what you asked me to do when I saw you last night—and I +refused"—another voice drop—"with the mayor, you know? Well—now +listen—you make assurance that this scoundrel will not bother me for +thirty days and—well, I give you my word that I'll do all I can to +bring things the way you want.... Good!... What'll you do with him? Why, +what in Sam Hill do <i>I</i> care what you do with him?... Oh, but <i>say</i>, +Commissioner—yes, I do care, too!"—a laugh here like a jolly fiend—"I +<i>shouldn't</i> like for him to be put away off in some nice, damp, dark +cell to cool off—he! he! he!—y'understand?"</p> + +<p>He got so mixed up in his chuckling and coughing that he couldn't get +out another word for a moment. Then—</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! <i>Cer</i>-tainly not; nor one too hot and airless, as you say—he! +he! he! And don't put him—don't put him—" the judge was gasping for +air now—"don't put him on bread and water, or anything of that kind, +nor in a cell with rude, rough men who would tame his playful +spirit—he! he! he!—oh, <i>don't</i> do that!... What say? I didn't quite +catch—" And then, dash it, it seemed he <i>did</i> catch it, for he began +waving his arm and pounding the desk. "Oh—oh, no, that would be <i>too</i> +bad—really!... Eh? Oh, well, you know best—it's up to you now!... +'Bye, and many thanks, Commissioner! Eh? All right, to-morrow then at +one at the Lawyers' Club—you can go over again the points of what you +want with the mayor. 'Bye!"</p> + +<p>And with good humor perfectly restored, he faced me, wabbling like a +jolly jellyfish.</p> + +<p>"'S greatest joke ever heard of in my life!" he chortled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, how did you find Jack?" I asked, for that was the thing I +had begun to think of.</p> + +<p>His face collapsed so dashed sudden, I was afraid it would break. And +from being a peppery red, he changed to a devilish sickly yellow.</p> + +<p>"Awful!" he said jerkily. "Something awful!" And he groaned like a jolly +horse in pain. "Went up there, you know, but—" his hands lifted and +dropped; he shook his head—"didn't seem to know me at all—was sitting +there in his pajamas examining with a magnifying glass some leaves he +had pulled at the window. Seems obsessed with some crazy patter of talk +I couldn't understand—poor fellow!" The judge sighed. "Only thing he +seemed to want me to do for him was to promise to wear his pajamas +to-night—pajamas seem to be the focus of his malady this time."</p> + +<p>I swallowed pretty hard and looked down.</p> + +<p>"I promised," continued the judge gloomily. "And I'll do it—oh, yes, +anything to humor him! He's to put them outside his door to-night—it's +his own whim, you know." He went on moodily: "He won't allow any +luncheon sent up; says if not too much trouble, would be grateful for +two and one-half ounces of unleavened bread and clabber—what the +devil's <i>clabber</i>?"</p> + +<p>I had never heard of it—knew, of course, no one had!</p> + +<p>"Well," he said with a deep breath, "we'll just have to do the best we +can. Of course, under the circumstances, it's best for him to keep his +apartment—Oh, say, would you like to go up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—er—think not!" I stammered. "Don't believe I—"</p> + +<p>"You're right! You're right!" He pursed his lips: "Too pitiful a +sight—only sadden you!" He began gathering up the papers behind my arm, +though I murmured that they were not in my way at all. The cathedral +chimes in the hall had played the half hour. The judge strolled over to +the French windows that opened upon the loggia.</p> + +<p>"I say, Lightnut, have you ever noticed the view from out here?" he +asked briskly. "Fine, you know! Nice to sit here and watch the +boats—have you your cigarettes? <i>Oh</i>, yes! Try <i>this</i> chair! Now, if +you'll excuse me I'll be with you in—"</p> + +<p>"Luncheon is served!" intoned a human machine.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h!" The judge's tone evinced satisfaction. "My dear Lightnut," his +hand upon my arm, "do you know I look upon you as so nearly one of +us—?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, judge!" I said feelingly. By Jove, it was devilish comfy to +have her father so jolly friendly about it!</p> + +<p>"That I'm just going to ask you to excuse me from lunching with +you—know you'll understand, my boy!—so infernally busy, you see!"</p> + +<p>I <i>didn't</i> see, though he had been <i>saying</i> this all morning. But as he +seemed to think he was busy, I wasn't going to make any dashed break +contradicting him, you know. So I pretended I <i>did</i> see.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—thank you, my boy!" He patted me on the back. "And as you'll +have an opportunity of seeing a little more of that charming girl, Miss +Kirkland—" Charming girl, indeed! I wondered what he would think, if he +knew of her designs on poor Jack! "I want you to go in for her a +bit—cultivate her a little; you may change your opinion—eh?" He +laughed softly and paused in our progress through the library to dig me +sharply in the side. "Go ahead—<i>flirt</i> with her, my boy! She will like +it—all girls do—and it will do you good; do both of you good!" The old +boy beamed at me over his glasses as he vented a horrible chuckle; +didn't seem to notice how painfully shocked I was.</p> + +<p>A flirtation, indeed! And with the frump, of all others! Of course he +was just having his little joke, and didn't seem to realize what +devilish poor taste he exhibited as the father of my darling.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," I said rather coldly, "but I don't think that—er—sort of +thing would show much consideration for Frances and—"</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" And, by Jove, how he laughed! "Do you think Francis would +show any consideration for <i>you</i>?"—he snapped his fingers. "I think +you're a bit too quixotic, young man!"</p> + +<p>I didn't know—don't know now; never was up on any of those legal +terms. <i>He</i> knew what he meant!</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, now!" he went on, "if <i>that's</i> what's restraining you, you must +drop it! I want you to have a pleasant time while you are here with Miss +Kirkland—get along with you!"—then he pulled me back again—"You +needn't be thinking about the slightest obligation so far as Francis is +concerned. Why should you when the affair is all one-sided?"</p> + +<p>"One—one-sided?" I repeated falteringly.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; the girl doesn't care for anybody in the whole word except +her old father—and he idolizes her!"</p> + +<p>Oh, <i>did</i> he!</p> + +<p>"So you go on in there and loosen up—have a good time—and make her +have one; and keep it up this afternoon. I'm so anxious for you to find +something to interest and <i>occupy</i> you—" His glance dropped an instant +to the papers and law books as though wishing he had something better +with which to occupy himself. "Besides," he added carelessly, "Francis +won't be here to see what you do—gone off with Scoggins up somewhere in +the hills—big dog-fight up there and Francis took four curs, Scoggins +two—they won't be back till night—so go ahead!"</p> + +<p>But I had caught the back of a chair.</p> + +<p>"Dog-fight?" I said faintly. "Frances up in the hills—and—and with +Scoggins?" And she had only left me a half-hour ago!</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>certainly</i>!" he said wearily, almost testily. "What of it? I tell +you you've got to get your ideas all readjusted about Francis. What's +the matter with the dog-fight?"</p> + +<p>"So—so surprised," I faltered; "so unexpected, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Poof!"—and he pushed me out through the doorway—"I never face +anything unexpected in that quarter!"</p> + +<p>But I think he would have, if he had followed me across into the +dining-room and had faced, as I did—</p> + +<p>Frances!</p> + +<p>"<i>So</i> glad you didn't go to the dog-fight!" I said presently, beaming +across at her delightedly.</p> + +<p>Her sweet lips glowed at me as her dainty fingers poised the tiny +trident before her lips. Jove, how I envied that jolly oyster! Then she +smiled witchingly, teasingly.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't because I didn't have an invitation," she responded archly. +<i>I</i> knew! That beast, Scoggins!</p> + +<p>"Umph;" grunted the frump, seated on the curve between us. "I verily +believe Francis would go to anything!"</p> + +<p>I scowled—couldn't help it, dash it! And Frances saw, and ducked her +head, biting her lip and blushing. I could have choked the frump for so +embarrassing her!</p> + +<p>Yet the woman <i>did</i> try to be pleasant to me.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever find a pearl in an oyster, Mr. Lightnut?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, no!" I said, staring at her for the fool question. For <i>who</i> +could ever lose a pearl in a jolly oyster, don't you know? And yet, the +next instant:</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> have!" said my darling, glancing up at me the oddest way.</p> + +<p>"Have you, Frances?"—the frump faced her interestedly. "You should +examine with a microscope the interstratifications of calcareous matter +and animal membrane."</p> + +<p>My beauty looked down at her plate.</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> examining it," she said gravely, "and microscopically. Probably +shall this afternoon."</p> + +<p>But she <i>didn't</i>! No, by Jove, we were together almost all +the afternoon, though we never could get away from the frump—dash +it, she just took charge of us. And it was the same again in the +evening. By Jove, it was disgusting—really, that's the only word to +use—the way that woman assumed toward everybody the air of +expect-to-be-mistress-here-some-day-and-might-as-well-begin-now!</p> + +<p>Once she did break away from us for fifteen minutes while she went up to +see how Jack was. She came back much relieved.</p> + +<p>"He was <i>so</i> glad to see me," she said, "and he kissed me twice. We had +such an interesting discussion about the <i>amoeba</i>."</p> + +<p>"The <i>what</i>?" asked Frances.</p> + +<p>"The <i>amoeba</i>—tiny animalcules, don't you know, that have the power of +changing their form and appearance. Jacky thinks that perhaps man, too, +in the process of time and evolution might scientifically acquire +this—"</p> + +<p>"How silly!" laughed my darling. And I thought so too. Of course if a +man looked like himself once, he would <i>always</i> look like himself. Any +fool knew that!</p> + +<p>Later, the judge came to my room, accompanied by Wilkes with some +Heidelberg punch, <i>frappé</i>.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't leave you out of this," he said genially; "besides, wanted to +toast your first night under the roof of Wolhurst!</p> + +<p>"Hope they're making you comfortable," he went on. "Infernal shame, +Lightnut, that I've had to neglect you so; so absurdly busy, you +know—<i>you</i> understand?"</p> + +<p>I pretended to, for I knew he wanted me to <i>think</i> that, but I had heard +the butler tell the frump that the judge was <i>reading</i>.</p> + +<p>"Don't expect to retire at all," he continued; "and then there's my +promise to my poor boy—I <i>must</i> keep that somehow; never failed on a +promise in my life—I mean, you know, about wearing his new pajamas." He +shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"T' be sure!"—and I swallowed hard—Jove, but the very word, "pajamas," +gave me cold marrows!</p> + +<p>"And, my boy, I haven't forgotten my promise to <i>you</i>, either," he +continued, smiling kindly and replenishing my glass to the brim. "I'm +still going to have a word with Francis to-night—that is, if they ever +get back from that infernal dog-fight—I want to pave the way for you, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Thanks awfully!" I murmured nervously.</p> + +<p>Somehow, I felt mean—always hate to feel mean, dash it—felt almost +like a jolly cad, in fact. <i>Couldn't</i> tell him how far Frances and I had +progressed already; he might take it out on her, you know. And <i>then</i>, +to find out that he didn't know she hadn't gone to the dog-fight after +all!</p> + +<p>"Well," he sighed, "I will manage it all somehow, even about the +pajamas. Perhaps, when the house is quiet, I may—<i>here</i>, have +another—oh, yes, you must!—won't hurt you; only a pint or so of rum in +the whole mixture. Fine, isn't it? Yes, I think Wilkes is certainly an +artist when it comes to a nightcap. Now, let me fill yours again—<i>oh</i>, +yes!"—and he did it—"Won't hurt a baby—make you sleep tight, you +know!"</p> + +<p>And, by Jove, I had to go it!</p> + +<p>"Well—" he shifted as if to go, and sent me a smile over his glass's +rim, "pleasant dreams!"</p> + +<p>And then the door closed behind our "good nights."</p> + +<p>Jenkins was studying me somberly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he said presently, when I had made comment about the bully +punch. And that was about all I could get out of him, until he was ready +to push out the light.</p> + +<p>Then he addressed me gloomily:</p> + +<p>"Good night, sir," he said with a sickly, feeble smile, "I hope you'll +sleep well; and—" he coughed faintly—"and—er—wake up—h'm—all +right!"</p> + +<p>"Frisky as a—" I bunched my head sleepily into the pillow—"as a +jolly—" But the idea wouldn't come!</p> + +<p>"Night!" I murmured; and let it go at that!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>THE DEMON RUM</h3> + + +<p>I <i>didn't</i> feel frisky when I awoke!</p> + +<p>No, dash it, I had a devilish headache and my mouth had that gummy, +warm-varnish taste—<i>you</i> know! The sunlight lay across the floor, and +outside I could hear the jolly birds twittering among their +what's-its-names. Jenkins stood by the foot of the bed and somehow had a +gloomy look. He cleared his throat, and I had a feeling that he had +already done it several times. I raised to my elbow, mouthing at him +heavily.</p> + +<p>"Morning, sir!" He said it very gently—I thought solicitously. "<i>How</i> +do you feel, sir?" This last in the kind of tone you use when the chap's +going to die to-morrow, don't you know, and doesn't know it yet himself.</p> + +<p>I mumbled reply, gulping down the glass of ice-water he tendered.</p> + +<p>He rubbed his hands one over the other and stooped above me anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I <i>hope</i>, sir, you're not in much pain—from last night, sir, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Pain?" I ejaculated crossly. "Why should I be in pain? Don't be a silly +ass!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!"—very softly, and with a deep sigh as he dropped back. By +Jove, he looked as cheerful as a jolly tombstone!</p> + +<p>"What the deuce—" I began.</p> + +<p>"Noth—nothing, sir!"—hastily—"I was just a-thinking of the—h'm—may +I say scrimmage, sir?"</p> + +<p>I waited till I had taken from his hand the second glass of ice-water +and swallowed it, thinking maybe I would get hold of it—the dashed +idea, I mean.</p> + +<p>I batted at him perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"What was that? <i>Scrimmage?</i> I don't remember hearing anything—<i>what's</i> +that?"</p> + +<p>And I reached for another glass.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, sir—" Jenkins' eye shifted unhappily; "but may I ask, sir, +what <i>is</i> the last thing you do remember?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>I sat up a bit straighter, rubbing my head and devilish annoyed at being +made to try to think at all. Then I remembered: We were in a jolly blue +aëroplane drawn by golden humming-birds and she was just telling +me—<i>no</i>, dash it, that was a dream—just a dashed dream! I groaned, +dropping my head upon my knees. "Why, the last thing I remember was the +punch—punch—"</p> + +<p>"Punch—yes, sir!" And Jenkins sighed.</p> + +<p>"<i>Your</i> punch to put out the light," I finished. Then I looked at him, +startled. "Oh, I say, now, it wasn't burglars, was it?"</p> + +<p>You see, I thought at once of Foxy Grandpa and my darling's pajamas.</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> precisely, sir." Jenkins hesitated; then moved a little nearer. +"I—I hope you'll pardon me, Mr. Lightnut, sir; but I can't help a +feeling that you ought to know everything before—h'm—I was going to +say, sir, before you see the family. I <i>hope</i> you'll pardon me, +sir!"—he heaved desperately—"I mean about all that happened last +night."</p> + +<p>I stared. "Oh, I say, Jenkins," I said, with an anxious thought, "<i>you</i> +didn't—er—<i>you</i> know—I mean you and Wilkes didn't drink the rest of +the punch—after he took it away, you know—eh?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Me?</i>" Jenkins' hand clutched the heavy brass curve at the foot of the +bed. "No, <i>sir</i>!"—and he added sadly: "Besides, sir, there <i>wasn't</i> any +rest of it! Mr. Wil—I mean Wilkes, was a-commenting on it. That was how +I come to find I didn't have any more of the blank pledges. So I just +walked across the park to get some extra ones I had given the gardener, +and he said I could have 'em <i>all</i>, if I'd just let him get a little +sleep; and he chucked 'em all out of his window. Seemed irritated like +because I woke him up. And then, sir, I don't know whether it was +because of the splashing of the fountains, but I had an idea."</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> nothing," I said contemptuously, "I often do at night when I +hear water splashing. I <i>often</i> get up and get something."</p> + +<p>Jenkins' face sobered. "I <i>know</i> it, sir—pardon, sir, I mean I +frequently know you have—h'm—know by the glasses—<i>you</i> understand, +sir!" Then he went on: "The idea that came to me was a great liberty—I +know that, sir, and I'm sorry—but I guess I was thinking that about the +end justifies—<i>you</i> know it, sir?"</p> + +<p>I didn't know, but I did wish <i>he</i> would make an end!</p> + +<p>"The library windows was open on the loggia, sir, and when I looked in, +I didn't see anybody and I thought—" Jenkins coughed and looked +devilish rattled—"thought I would just slip in and lay a few of the +temperance pledges between the papers the judge had been working on." +Jenkins reddened, looking at me in an appealing way.</p> + +<p>"Jove!" I ejaculated, staring. "Oh, I say, now!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir,"—faintly—"I knew how you would feel—I ain't excusing +myself, sir; and when I heard your voice I tried to get out, but there +wasn't time, so I—" Jenkins touched his hands in front, then behind +him, and shifted distressfully, "I—I hid behind the alcove +curtains—h'm—and just then—"</p> + +<p>"Here!" I broke in, "<i>Wait</i>, dash it! <i>Whose</i> voice did you hear?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins' eyes ducked.</p> + +<p>"Yours, sir," he said faintly. "And then you came in."</p> + +<p>I stared, trying to take it in. Couldn't chirp a word, don't you know, +for to <i>think</i> I had taken to sleep-walking—and <i>here</i>!</p> + +<p>Jenkins proceeded rapidly: "You was cording a dressing-robe about you as +you came in and I see a glimpse of one of your dark suits underneath. +And following right behind you was that young Mr. Bi—h'm—pardon, sir, +I remember you said I wasn't to mention any one connected with that +ni—h'm! <i>You</i> know who I mean, sir?"—he paused anxiously—"Young man, +sir—freckled face—and the big lot of"—his spreading fingers curved +above his head—"<i>awfully</i> yellow hair—um, <i>you</i> know, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>that</i>!" I said with contempt, for I knew he meant that mucker, +Scoggins. Then incredulously: "Oh, I say, you don't mean I was talking +to <i>him</i>? And asleep?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins eyed me reproachfully. "Not asleep, sir," he remonstrated +gently.</p> + +<p>"But I tell you—"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lightnut, sir, it was the <i>punch</i>!" He shook his head. "If you'll +excuse me for mentioning—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I remarked weakly, falling back upon my pillow. "Jove, Jenkins!" +And I just looked at him stupidly—fact!</p> + +<p>Jenkins stroked his chin, his eyes fixed somberly above my head. "The +demon rum, sir," he said slowly, and using the deep, heavy chest tones +like the high-up politicians and expensive lecturers, "is rampant in our +fair land—that's what I heard Doctor Splasher remark—and the insid'jus +monster is slowly—"</p> + +<p>And he went on, but I didn't hear. I was trying to think. So I hadn't +been sleep-walking, but had been just plain drunk—and <i>in her +home</i>!—so jolly well corked, in fact, I hadn't even a dashed glimmer of +memory of it. Had been making a spectacle of myself, going all about the +house in the wee what-you-call-'em hours of the night and probably—oh, +good heavens, probably <i>singing</i>!</p> + +<p>I dropped my head back upon the pillow.</p> + +<p>"Go on," I said. "Tell me <i>all</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," resumed Jenkins, "as I was saying, you came in with—<i>you</i> +know—er—the young fellow. He kinder slouched in, looking a bit sulky.</p> + +<p>"'I've been watching for you to get back from the dog-fight,' you says +to him; 'sit down, I want to talk to you.' But the young fellow just +stood square in the middle of the floor and just kinder scowled black.</p> + +<p>"Then you says, pleasant-like: 'I've been talking with a friend of +yours, my son, who thinks I haven't treated you quite fair.'</p> + +<p>"'O!' says this young fellow, and seems kinder surprised. Then he got +red.</p> + +<p>"'And so, my boy,' you went on, tightening your glass as you looked at +him, 'if I've been harsh I'm sorry—suppose we start all over +again—what do you say? I don't want to cross you in anything if I can +help it—I want to <i>help</i> you.'"</p> + +<p>My abrupt ejaculation halted Jenkins an instant, then he proceeded:</p> + +<p>"'I say, do you mean that?' asks young Mr. Bi—I <i>mean</i>, this young +fellow"—Jenkins stirred nervously—"and you says, kinder laughing: +'there's my hand on it!' and then you both shook.</p> + +<p>"'One minute,' says the boy, still looking kinder puzzled and uncertain, +'I want to know what about Frances. How do we stand about <i>that</i>?'</p> + +<p>"You just laughed sorter and went up and clapped him right on the +shoulder and you says: 'Why, if you can, my son, just go in and win her. +<i>I</i> don't care!'—and you said it hearty-like. You went on: 'I haven't a +word to say—in fact, I'd be only too <i>glad</i> to see you succeed.'"</p> + +<p>Here I straightened with almost a screech:</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i> I said that? Oh, now, Jenkins, you—oh, you're mistaken!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins eyed me sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Your words, sir, exactly, and then you went on, kinder persuadingly: +'Why, I haven't meant to stand in your way at all!'"</p> + +<p>I groaned.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" I breathed through my teeth. Then I straightened forward. +"<i>What</i> did the judge call that punch—what kind?"</p> + +<p>"Heidelberg punch, sir,"—a sympathetic pause as I swept my hand through +my hair. "Yes, sir, it certainly must be something high—oh, <i>awful</i>, +sir!"</p> + +<p>He went on as I dipped my head at him. "Then this young chap catches you +by the hand and he says, 'Why, you're a brick, after all!' And you says: +'Yes, we'll get along better now, my boy, and <i>you</i> want to be mighty +grateful to Dicky Lightnut for it.' And this young fellow says, kinder +smiling: 'Indeed, I am!' And then him and you just shook hands again all +over."</p> + +<p>Jenkins stopped for breath, but I didn't say a word. By Jove, it all +made me a bit sick, don't you know. Oh, I must have been maudlin, that's +what—<i>maudlin</i>. I managed to wag my head to start him off again; +couldn't speak, you know!</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Then you says: 'That's all right, now, my boy; so you run +along, because I'm awfully busy. To-morrow we'll talk some more.'</p> + +<p>"'Bully!' says the chap. 'Good night, old man!' Then he turns back, +kinder smiling sidewise. 'It's sure on the level, is it, that you're +going to let me have a clear road with Frances?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, bother Frances!' you says laughing. 'Yes, yes, and when you win +her, she'll be to me as my <i>own</i> girl. And I know I'll have her love, +too.'</p> + +<p>"'What's that?' says the young fellow, kinder frowning. And you says, +easy-like, 'Why, we'll just be one happy family.' Then you chuckled like +you was mighty pleased and says: 'And I think she is learning to like me +pretty well already. Why, do you know what she did to-night? She came +right up to me and in the sweetest way kissed me good night.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I said, digging my fingers into the bedclothes, "Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" said Jenkins chokily. He went on: "This young fellow just +marches right close up to you and says, speaking kinder quiet and his +eyes shining, 'You say Frances kissed you?' And you sorter gave a laugh +and dug him in the side and you says, 'I do believe the boy is jealous! +Why, yes, you rascal, she certainly did—she kissed me!'</p> + +<p>"'Well, it's a lie!' he says back, pointing at you with his finger. +'Because it ain't like her.' And he got closer.</p> + +<p>"'See here,' he says, 'have you just been trying to get gay with me +to-night? Huh!—well, I'm just going to box your jaws for luck!'</p> + +<p>"'What?' you gasps—'what's that?'—and you storms up to him—'Why, you +young puppy, do you know who you're talking to?' you says.</p> + +<p>"'Bah!' he says, and he just goes up and snaps his fingers in your face. +You chokes kinder, and then you yells at him: 'Why, you young ruffian, +I've spanked you before, and I can do it again—'</p> + +<p>"'Yah!' he says, making faces at you. '<i>You</i> spanked! You hit me when I +wasn't looking. My foot slipped.'</p> + +<p>"'Foot slipped, you blanked fool!' you shouts at him, and then—" +Jenkins wiped his forehead—"Then the next thing I see, you mixed."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I breathed with relief. "That's <i>better</i>!"</p> + +<p>I chuckled. Then suddenly I felt remorseful.</p> + +<p>"Where did I hit him this time, Jenkins—did you notice? Was he hurt +much?"</p> + +<p>Jenkins looked down, avoiding my eyes. "Um, <i>not</i> exactly, sir," he +said; "in fact, it was—er—kinder the other way."</p> + +<p>I stared, aghast.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean, Jenkins—"</p> + +<p>Jenkins evidently did! His eyes expressed both pity and embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"What he did to you,"—he rolled his glance upward, trying to shape the +idea—"I believe, sir, it's what you might call"—his voice dropped—"I +believe it's what they <i>do</i> call wiping up the floor with."</p> + +<p>I closed my eyes an instant.</p> + +<p>"Finish!" I whispered, feebly flipping my hand at him.</p> + +<p>"He left then, sir, but the noise brought Wilkes and we helped you +up-stairs. You wouldn't go any farther than the door of the judge's +bedroom—wanted to tell him, we supposed. When we got that far, I +noticed Mr. Jack Billings' door—it's right opposite, you remember, +sir—was standing just a little open. He called out very anxious and +shrill: 'Oh, <i>do</i> be very careful of the pajamas! My! my! I hope the +pajamas are not hurt!'</p> + +<p>"And at that, you just bangs inside the judge's room and in about two +minutes, <i>he</i> stuck his head out, looking kinder towsled and mad like +he'd been waked from a sound sleep, and he fires a wrapped-up parcel at +the door opposite and yells:</p> + +<p>"'There are your pajamas, you unnatural, heartless prodigal! Pajamas, +indeed, at such a time!' And then I see Mr. Jack's arm come out and +fish the package inside.</p> + +<p>"Then the judge turns on me and Wilkes and ordered us to clear out and +to go to bed. And Wilkes said we'd best do it because the judge would +take care of you and get you to your room quietly. And the last thing I +heard before he slammed inside his room was:</p> + +<p>"'There's one thing; I've got a daughter!'"</p> + +<p>I looked at Jenkins miserably. He was <i>right</i>; he did have a daughter, +and I wanted her. But just now, I wished with all heart that she was +somebody's—anybody else's daughter—than that of the man who had +witnessed my humiliation.</p> + +<p>And afterwards—</p> + +<p><i>How</i> had he managed to get me to my room? And had she seen or heard me? +Oh, she must have!</p> + +<p>Well, nothing mattered now—nothing could ever matter any more. It was +some miserable comfort to feel, and <i>know</i>, that nothing worse could +ever happen!</p> + +<p>Why, there was nothing <i>worse</i> left in all the world. By Jove, I was +sure of <i>that</i> much!</p> + +<p>And just then a knock sounded.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>I TOUCH BOTTOM</h3> + + +<p>"Pardon, sir, for not waiting till you came down," the butler was +saying, "but Mr. Billings was just so set on me bringing this to you, I +<i>had</i> to."</p> + +<p>He had entered, responding to Jenkins' invitation, bearing in his hand a +gray paper parcel.</p> + +<p>"For me?" I questioned, as he laid it on the table, and I eyed it +ominously. Yet it could not be the same I had sent Billings myself—I +could see that—for it was smaller, more compact, and in a different +wrapper. But I was <i>afraid</i> to examine it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—he's very bad this morning, sir; the—er—that is, something +last night seems to have excited him."</p> + +<p>His eye roved eloquently between Jenkins and myself. He continued +soberly:</p> + +<p>"He's locked me and Perkins out of his rooms again, and wouldn't open +the door only wide enough to stick this through. And his +message"—hesitatingly—"he said just tell you you had better get these +pajamas back where they came from just as quickly as you could—you +would <i>if you were wise</i>, he said."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I uttered, dazed by this new blow. So it <i>was</i> her pajamas.</p> + +<p>But there was more of the message—I could see it in Wilkes' eye.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he went on as I gave him a nod. "Mr. Billings +called through the door-crack—and his voice was particularly +shrill—screechy-like—very unnatural, sir—and he said: 'You tell him I +say he'll find it very dangerous to keep them by him a moment; tell him +my advice is to return them <i>immediately</i>!'"</p> + +<p>Here the butler hesitated an instant and added: "And he said for me to +try to remember three letters I was to mention—said you would +understand."</p> + +<p>"Three letters?" I repeated dully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, three letters—I did remember 'em, too, because they happened +to be the initials of a young woman I—h'm! Q. E. D., sir."</p> + +<p>"Q. E. D.?" I said, puzzled and miserable. "What's Q. E. D.?" And then +an idea startled me.</p> + +<p>"Oh I <i>say</i>, you mean—er—P. D. Q.—eh, Wilkes?" It sounded like Jack!</p> + + +<p>But he seemed sure he didn't; insisted on Q. E. D. When he had +withdrawn, I sat there a moment, swallowing hard. By Jove, when a chap +has had the hardest blow of his life, and that, too, from his best +friend, it's devilish hard to come up smiling. I took a deep breath and +tried to pull myself together. I knew, of course, it was all +over—everything; it was all over, just as everything was beginning +with me. For I knew my life never had been worth a whoop before. Why, by +Jove, I never even noticed how beautiful were the trees and the sunshine +through the leaves until the last two days! But I <i>had</i> seen it, because +<i>she</i> had seen it! And now—now it was all dull and flat and dead again, +and all the world was gray! Ever been there—eh?</p> + + +<p>I climbed heavily to my feet, for I knew, after all, he was acting +devilish considerately as <i>he</i> saw things, and I must just have the +decency to do as he said—and then go. I couldn't explain, of course. +Mustn't try to do that—so dashed clumsy, I would only complicate it for +her. No, I—By Jove, I suddenly felt sick. Sat there, doubled forward, +my head between my hands, as the butler retired, softly closing the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>Presently I pulled myself together. Jenkins, as he helped me dress, eyed +me in a frightened way, his face kind of pale and greenish. Neither of +us said a word, but I knew I had <i>his</i> sympathy, poor fellow—and it +helped! Then, with the parcel in my hand, I marched slowly down the +stairs, forgetting even some instructions I should have given Jenkins.</p> + +<p>She was there in the living-room—she and the frump. And when I saw her +dear face and realized what disaster had come between us, I felt things +whirling around me like a jolly what's-its-name and dropped my hand on a +chair-back hard, until I could stiffen and smile up. But, by Jove, she +was on!</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter, Mr. Lightnut?" she asked, coming toward me—and +how kindly, almost tenderly, her sweet face softened!</p> + +<p>"Is it anything about Jacky?" snapped the frump.</p> + +<p>I shook my head and just gently placed the little wrapped parcel in +Frances' hands. My hand shook so I almost dropped it.</p> + +<p>"Some—something of yours that was lost," I said, and I knew my voice +shook a little, too. "I was fortunate in recovering it." I looked at +her—for the last time, I knew—and it was just my devilish luck that +she got misty and dim. I whispered hoarsely: "Open when you are alone."</p> + +<p>And then I walked straight out of the house!</p> + +<p>A gardener directed me to the park gates, but there were so many dashed +curves and terraces I got hopelessly twisted, and pretty soon didn't +know whether I was leaving or coming, don't you know. I sat down on an +iron bench to think it over, and, by Jove, I must have dozed off, for +the first thing I knew some one yelled my name, and I looked up to +see—Billings!</p> + +<p>He was looking a bit soiled and disheveled, and his eyes had a hunted +look.</p> + +<p>"What the devil are you doing, sitting here?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm going," I said, hurriedly getting to my feet. "Just +resting—I—"</p> + +<p>"They told me I would find you here," he said. "Here you are, sitting +out here in the hot sun without any hat! Good thing, Dicky, you haven't +got any—h'm!" Then he panted at me: "Say, nice way you and my sister +treated me—I don't <i>think</i>! But I'll forgive you this time." Here he +linked his arm in mine. "I'll forgive you, if you never say anything at +the club about those damned black pajamas—nor in the family, either. +Great Scott! I wouldn't have this get out!"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't think of such a thing!" I exclaimed, immeasurably relieved, +but indignant, as well. He led me across the turf.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've had an awful time, Dicky! Awful!"—he lifted his hands—"Oh, I +don't want to tell you about it—I don't want even to think about it +myself!"</p> + +<p>I murmured something sympathetic, for I <i>felt</i> sympathetic with +anything; besides, there still lingered a bit of headache from the +Heidelberg punch and I could imagine from that what <i>his</i> feelings must +have been.</p> + +<p>"By George, Dicky," he burst out again, "the way I've been shut up and +treated just seems like some infernal conspiracy. Good thing Jack +Ellsworth's dad had a pull with the mayor—tell you all the whole rotten +business when I can talk about it quietly."</p> + +<p>"That's right! that's right!" I said soothingly, "wouldn't think about +it at all now, old chap!" No use reminding him, you know, that he had +shut <i>himself</i> up. Besides, the wandering of the mind to Jack Ellsworth +and his father showed me that even yet he was not quite himself.</p> + +<p>Billings mopped his forehead. "My, but it was hot in that hole!" he +exclaimed. "And that reminds me—have you seen the governor this +morning? No? Well, talk about hot! <i>George</i>, but the old man was hot +under the collar when I saw him just now! And he looks like he had been +dropped from a shot tower! It's this case he's working on, I guess, or +else it's about Francis. He's found out what <i>I</i> knew."</p> + +<p>"Do—do you think so?" I questioned nervously.</p> + +<p>"Pretty sure," said Billings carelessly. "Fact is, he's already fixing +up to send Francis to some kind of reformatory—heard him making the +arrangements over the 'phone"—I was glad he didn't look at me as he +rattled on—"and, by the way, the governor told me to tell <i>you</i> not to +say a <i>word</i> to Francis—I suppose you'll understand."</p> + +<p>Understand? Oh, yes, <i>I</i> understood!</p> + +<p>"And he said he wanted to see you."</p> + +<p>"Is—is he here?" I stammered, pulling back.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness, no. Gone to meet Colonel Francis Kirkland—say, don't +say anything about it—wants to surprise his daughter, you know. On his +way to London via San Francisco—arrived at Washington a few days ago."</p> + +<p>Oh, the frump's father! Much I cared! But knowing how interested <i>he</i> +was in her, I tried to show an interest.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Francis—er—isn't his daughter named after him?" And I felt +myself grow jolly red, for I remembered that <i>she</i> had told me that +about her friend as she sat on the arm of the Morris chair and in the +black pajamas.</p> + +<p>"Hanged if <i>I</i> know," said Billings carelessly. "I don't know what her +name is—don't remember that I ever heard." He whistled. "Say, but did +you ever see anything as stunningly pretty in your life?"</p> + +<p>I balked. By Jove, I had been doing some mild lying within the past +twenty-four hours, but this was asking <i>too</i> much! Dash me if I just +could go it, that's all. But he didn't seem to notice.</p> + +<p>He slapped me on the back. "By George, Dicky, there's just the girl cut +out for you, old chap—take my tip. I think she likes you, too—could +see it just now when I was talking about you."</p> + +<p>So that was it, I reflected gloomily. The frump now was to be worked off +on me, and I was expected to stand for it. I was to be a sort of +what-you-call-it offering on the altar of friendship. <i>That</i> was the +condition upon which he was patching up things!</p> + +<p>Billings laughed suddenly. "But, oh, I tell you it would be hard on +Francis—a regular knockout, by George!"</p> + +<p>Devilish brutal for him to say so, I thought.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" I questioned dismally. "Would Frances really care?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he said lightly. "Soon get over it, though—puppy love, you +know."</p> + +<p>Puppy love, indeed! By Jove, how I hated Billings!</p> + +<p>He went on: "Suppose you never heard anything of the professor and the +pajamas?"</p> + +<p>I had not, and I was devilish sick of pajamas, anyway.</p> + +<p>"And say, Dicky, I don't remember that I ever thanked you properly, old +man, for putting up my kid brother the other night. He says you treated +him like a brick and that you and he got to be great pals. So much +obliged, old chap, because he wanted to go running around, you know."</p> + +<p>"Your brother?" I questioned, astonished, and I guess my face must have +showed it, for Billings' eyes, first opening wide, narrowed, and his +countenance began to gather an angry red. He stopped short.</p> + +<p>"<i>Didn't</i> he stay with you?" he snapped.</p> + +<p>I stared blankly. "Why, Billings—I didn't know—I didn't remember you +had a brother. I never have seen him."</p> + +<p>Billings' face swelled redder, and he struck his fist down with an oath. +He looked angrily toward the house. Then he stepped hurriedly in advance +of me.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, old chap, will you?" he said, his voice hardened. "Will see +you at luncheon—make yourself at home, won't you?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>UNDER THE PERGOLA</h3> + + +<p>Make myself at home! I sneaked under the quiet shade in a convenient +pergola, and, dropping upon a bench, gazed gloomily at the sunlight +patches at my feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>here</i> you are, eh?" broke harshly upon me.</p> + +<p>I looked up, startled from my mood. There, hands upon his hips and +scowling, stood—the chauffeur!</p> + +<p>I frowned, but the fellow just moved nearer.</p> + +<p>"I guess mamma's baby don't feel so spry this morning!" he jeered. "Does +its little heady-cums ache-ums—eh?"</p> + +<p>I grunted rather wearily. "If it does, my good fellow, it's none of your +business. Don't bother me!" I shifted the other way.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it?"—his tone quickened truculently—"Well, maybe I'll make +it my business!" He jerked his arm at me, continuing sharply: "Look +here, you glass-eyed monkey-jack, don't you get <i>flip</i> with me this +morning"—he laughed coarsely—"or I'll think you want some more! <i>Do</i> +you?"</p> + +<p>I turned my head and, polishing my monocle carefully, gave it a tight +screw and took him in slowly, beginning with his yellow mop of hair and +ending with the toes of his soiled canvas shoes. By Jove, I was <i>sure</i> +they'd never been whitened since he bought them.</p> + +<p>I seemed to anger him. He uttered a sort of snort with a mutter +uncomplimentary and strode forward, towering above me where I sat.</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer</i>, when I'm talking to you, you sap-headed fool," he bellowed, +"or I'll wring your neck! I asked if you wanted some more."</p> + +<p>I stretched my arms, trying their muscle room in a lengthy yawn, and +blinked at him with my free eye, wondering where the deuce he got the +crimson hat band. By Jove, <i>that</i> was the most dashed impertinent thing +of all!</p> + +<p>"More what?" I drawled indifferently.</p> + +<p>"More—of <i>that</i>!"—viciously—and <i>thwack</i> his knuckles struck against +the iron back of the jolly bench. For I wasn't there, don't you know.</p> + +<p>"Huh! Think you're some smart, don't you?" he sneered, hitching his +trousers band. "Now, look here"—he leveled his finger—"you're a guest +here and I know I oughtn't to do it, and I <i>hate</i> it for Jack's sake, +but I'm feeling I'll just <i>have</i> to give you another trimming this +lovely morning!" He chuckled, rolling his lips and spreading them till I +could see every tooth. He moved toward me leisurely, slipping up his +sleeves. "What you got last night, sonny, was for your own sake, but +<i>this</i> time it's going to be for Frances'—you <i>fishworm</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll leave Miss Frances out of it, don't you know," I +remonstrated. <i>Dash</i> the fellow's impudence! Then, remembering I was +wearing a coat of dark cheviot that was the very devil for showing every +speck of dust, I slipped out of it and looked about for somewhere to +hang it. Not a dashed place, of course; not a thing, you know, except +nails here and there in the wooden uprights of the pergola, and of +course <i>nails</i> wouldn't do to hang a coat on. So I just folded the jolly +thing carefully—very carefully, just as I had seen Jenkins do—and then +I held it on my arm.</p> + +<p>The chap had been shifting about me in a curve, clucking his tongue +contemptuously and muttering, and getting more jolly red-eyed and +abusive every minute.</p> + +<p>"Be a man!" he snarled. "You blame tailor's dummy, be a <i>man</i>!" And he +struck his chest a blow to show me what he meant.</p> + +<p>And just then I remembered to smooth my hair-part.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>you</i>—" With a growl like a bear, he swept both his hands to his +head and whirled them through his great yellow pile, leaving each hair +standing on end like the quills on the fretful what's-its-name. Then he +danced toward me, pausing irregularly to double over with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is <i>too</i> good!" he yelped. "But I can't help it; I jest can't +refuse the money, Lizzie! I know they'll send me away for this, +but—Oh, mamma!"</p> + +<p>And over he'd double again.</p> + +<p>Oddest thing, isn't it, how your jolly active mind <i>will</i> wander at the +rummest times; and I had a thought then of how, when I was a delicate +boy, bully old Doctor Dake and Doctor Madden had prescribed a +punching-bag, and later boxing-gloves. And I thought with a pang of what +ripping times the governor and I had, scrapping, and of what knocks he +gradually began to give me until he forced me to learn to come back +harder. Jove, what corking hours we had! And then when Chugsey, the +retired English light-weight champion, came to butler—<i>oh</i>, what +smashing three-handed rounds we used to have! Bully old governor, who +was never so busy on his sermons but what he could take a walk or a ride +with me; or talk with me, or <i>fight</i> with me! Why, he—</p> + +<p>By Jove, my dashed monocle got so cloudy of a sudden, I almost missed +the chauffeur's move—<i>almost</i>, don't you know!</p> + +<p>And then—</p> + +<p>"I say, you know!" I said disgustedly, as I screwed my monocle at him +there, his big yellow mat sticking out of sight through the jolly vines. +"Awfully raw thing to strike at a man and leave your guard open like +that—I <i>could</i> have put it over your heart, don't you know!"</p> + +<p>I heard a little sound behind me and there was she!</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I gasped as I slipped into my coat. And now I <i>was</i> miserable, for +I remembered how kind this chauffeur, Scoggins, had been to her. And for +her to have seen me in this vulgar row!</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw it all," she said, as I moved toward her, murmuring some +jolly effort at apology. Her eyes were shining. "I saw it all, sir—and +<i>heard</i>. And just when I had hunted you up with <i>these</i>!"—and then I +saw that her arms were burgeoning with roses. "See what I've been doing +for you, sir!"</p> + +<p>"For me?" By Jove, it was all I could say as I took them!</p> + +<p>"And you ran off!" She pouted adorably—naturally, too, dash it. I've +seen them put it on when they looked like they had toothache. "How am I +ever going to thank you about the pajamas?" By Jove, her big blue eyes +looked me frankly in the face. There was never a quiver of +embarrassment. "It's wonderful—and to find them <i>here</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I'd—I'd have got 'em to you sooner," I faltered, swallowing, "but +they've been lost a day or two—thief stole them from my rooms, you +know."</p> + +<p>"How on earth <i>did</i> you ever get hold of them? I never expected to see +those pajamas again. Oh, you must tell me all about how you managed +it!"—and we moved away—"I just <i>wish</i> father were here!"</p> + +<p><i>I</i> didn't! Dash it, it made me squirm to think of his return.</p> + +<p>As we left the pergola behind, I looked backward through its arch, and +there was the chauffeur, standing in the shadows, looking after us. And +long after, as we turned from the straight avenue leading through the +pergola, I descried his figure, still looking after us, unchanged, +immovable.</p> + +<p>It was rum!</p> + +<p>But I had other things to think of as we sat out in the loggia—chiefly +of her, herself; withal, wondering gloomily what her father would say +when he found I had disobeyed his injunction about not speaking to her. +Presently the summons to luncheon came, and we went in.</p> + +<p>From up-stairs came sounds indicating great hilarity on Billings' part. +In fact, we could hear him slapping his knee and screaming. The frump +looked at me anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Why, I understood he was all right again," she said aside.</p> + +<p>I shook my head dubiously. I had seen in the past day or two how rapidly +Billings' moods shifted. Twenty minutes since he had looked enraged.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is too good—but keep it mum!" we heard. "Come on, Professor!"</p> + +<p>"Professor?" The frump looked at Frances, then at Wilkes inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know, miss," he murmured contritely. "'S why I didn't mention +it."</p> + +<p>We were crossing the great hall in the direction of the beautiful +dining-room beyond—Elizabethan, I think Frances said it was. We all +paused expectantly as Billings rolled down the stairs in his usual +jolly, elephantine way. And then on the landing appeared an +apparition—not only an apparition, but, by Jove, a scarecrow, as well!</p> + +<p>Professor Doozenberry, blandly smiling—his rail-like figure shrouded +flabbily in one of Billings' largest and loudest suits! Billings went +through the form of introductions, chuckling idiotically the while. But +the professor scarcely noticed any one but the frump.</p> + +<p>"Don't wait, Wilkes," Billings directed. His nod beckoned me aside.</p> + +<p>"Gentleman sulking in his tent over here I want you to meet," he said. +And I followed him to the library. A figure pacing the floor turned +sharply. By Jove, it was the chauffeur, and how he did scowl at me!</p> + +<p>"Now, young man," said Billings sternly, "perhaps you'll have the nerve +to tell me before Mr. Lightnut himself that you were his guest on your +way home from Harvard."</p> + +<p>"I certainly was!" He made the statement, chin up and eyes blazing. "I +was his guest at the Kahoka Wednesday night, and he knows it."</p> + +<p>Billings looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Don't bother denying it, old man," he said. "It's all right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I say—it isn't!" I exclaimed in disgusted amaze. "Dashed +impertinence, you know—never saw this fellow before the morning at +the—er—boat, and day before yesterday when I—" I halted, remembering.</p> + +<p>But the fellow was shaking his finger at me.</p> + +<p>"A-a-a!" he jeered like a school-boy. "Why don't you finish? Bet you +don't know, Jack, that this paragon friend of yours was up here on the +train day before yesterday." Billings stared, for he did not know.</p> + +<p>The chap grew more impudent. "Yah, see him turn red!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I exclaimed, warming up, you know. "Say, Billings, who the +devil is this fellow?" And I advanced angrily—dashed annoyed, you know.</p> + +<p>Billings interposed. "My brother," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, his brother," almost shouted the other. Then he lowered his voice +at Billings' command: "And I say, you didn't tell Jack you were on the +train yesterday, posing as a 'Mr. Smith,' and that you insulted +Frances." He shook off his brother's hand angrily. "Oh, yes he +did—sister told me about it! I knew it was you when I got to thinking +about it this morning!" He panted for breath. "I can't call you a liar, +Lightnut, when you say I wasn't at your rooms, because you're a quicker +hitter than I am, and—" He looked around and shrugged. "And because we +are in this house. But you're an infernal hypocrite, and I want Jack to +know it." He laughed mockingly and faced his brother. "Ask your friend, +Mr. Lightnut, about that girl in black pajamas in his rooms!"</p> + +<p>And he flung himself from the room with a Parthian shot: "Ask him to +tell you about her as he did me. Ask him who it <i>was</i>!"</p> + +<p>Billings seemed to groan. "More black pajamas!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>I faced him eagerly. "I never told him about her—I'll swear I didn't," +I pleaded miserably. "You know all there is to know, Jack. I wouldn't +tell anybody in the world a thing like that. I—love her too well. Much +less would I go and tell her own brother."</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-a-t?" Billings' fat body almost leaped into the air. "What the +devil—say, old chap, <i>what</i> are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"And, besides, she's forgiven me," I persisted gloomily. "And I love +her—and—and we're going to be married—or I hope so, dash it!"</p> + +<p>Billings stared at me with popping eyes for an instant. Then he lifted +my chin and looked at me anxiously. "Are you quite well, old man?" he +asked. "Headache, or anything like that? By George, it's from sitting +out in that sun without a hat. Marry my sister?" He wagged his head +lugubriously. "What—Elizabeth? Oh, good heavens!"</p> + +<p>"No—Frances," I explained anxiously.</p> + +<p>He stared. "Francis?" Then his arm led me out. "Come along, old chap," +he said with an air of concern. "We'll get a little ice—"</p> + +<p>There was a bustle near the hall entrance, and I heard a commanding +voice I recognized as that of Judge Billings:</p> + +<p>"Come right in, Colonel, and we will try to make you forget that little +exasperation—do you know I just can't get over the idea that I've seen +you somewhere and <i>recently</i>—Hello, Jack! Colonel Kirkland, my eldest +boy, Jack—named after his mother, Johanna. Look here, Jack, has +everybody on the blithering police force gone crazy about <i>pajamas</i>? +Most infernal outrage—pardon me, Colonel Kirkland—three policemen +wanted to arrest him on description—dragnet order, they said—for +stealing a pair of black silk pajamas. Ever hear the like of that?"</p> + +<p>Billings' voice murmured something, and then I was dully conscious of my +name being passed and of the fact that I was limply shaking a hand. But +I don't remember uttering a word—couldn't, by Jove, for my jolly tongue +was paralyzed. Didn't know what to do; didn't know what to say, you +know, for there before my eyes, recognizable and unmistakable, despite +frock coat and white choker tie, was the figure of "Foxy Grandpa."</p> + +<p>The beefy face, white mutton chop whiskers and bald head were as +indelibly imprinted on my memory as the sunburn line that fenced his +fiery face.</p> + +<p>And <i>this</i> was the frump's father, and it was for him she was scheming +to make a home!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE CUB</h3> + + +<p>I didn't go in to luncheon.</p> + +<p>Instead, I lay down up in my room, wondering what Jenkins would think +when he saw Foxy Grandpa a guest with me under this roof, and wondering +also what I ought to do, or if I should do anything. I came to the +conclusion finally that I wouldn't say anything for the present, for I +had about all the complications I could carry.</p> + +<p>Presently I went down to the living-room, where they were all assembled, +and my heart leaped as I thought I detected a brightening in Frances' +face as I entered.</p> + +<p>Billings was waving the frump away with his fat hand. "Take it away," he +said. "I hate bugs."</p> + +<p>"But, Jacky," said the frump pleadingly, "I think it's a <i>phusiotus +gloriosa</i>."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if it's a giraffe," said Billings rudely.</p> + +<p>But the professor was already across the room to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"Ha! not a <i>gloriosa</i>," he said animatedly, as he snooped over the +little greenish thing in the frump's hand. "Observe the shortened +<i>prothorax</i> and <i>mesothorax</i> and—"</p> + +<p>"And <i>metathorax</i>," chimed in the frump, her head close to his. +"Hence—"</p> + +<p>"It is a <i>phanaeus carnifex</i>," said the professor positively.</p> + +<p>By Jove, it looked to me like what we used to call a dung beetle!</p> + +<p>And then the two cranks went out in the sun with butterfly nets, and +Frances and I drifted out to our pavilion overlooking the broad sweep of +the Tappan Zee. As yet, her father had said nothing to me, but I knew +that the blow might fall any moment. Only the arrival of the frump's +father had so far saved me. And though I had gone right ahead violating +his jolly injunction about Frances, I kept a sort of parole with him by +avoiding any discussion of things that I knew would have interested my +darling the most—that is, our love and our future. Later we took a +drive through Sleepy Hollow and the Pocantico Hills. But though we grew +better and better acquainted every minute, I couldn't help feeling +devilish disappointed, for never once did she ever call me "Dicky." I +wondered moodily whether her brother had told her yet of his plans for +me.</p> + +<p>In the evening, the younger brother showed up at dinner, but sulked, +which I thought under the circumstances was about the most considerate +thing he could have done.</p> + +<p>Once during the evening, Billings, who had been talking with the +professor, turned to me. "By the way, Dicky—those pajamas, you +know—what did you do with them this morning?" He and the professor +whispered again; then Billings turned back. "Gray paper parcel—um—you +know?"</p> + +<p>Know? Dash it, of course I knew, but I—</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>I</i> have them now," came quietly from my companion, "thanks to Mr. +Lightnut. He gave them to me this morning."</p> + +<p>"<i>Gave</i> them to you!" gasped Billings. He whispered to me: "But the +rubies, you cuckoo—you didn't give her <i>those</i>?"</p> + +<p>Rubies? Dash it, I had to think hard to remember what had become of the +rubies. But I got the idea.</p> + +<p>"Why, the professor has those," I reminded him. "The red pajamas, you +know—don't you remember?" I drew him aside.</p> + +<p>Billings stared. "But he says he returned them," he exclaimed, cutting +an odd sidewise look at the professor, who was talking to Frances and +the frump. Billings frowned.</p> + +<p>"Haven't seen them," I said carelessly, for I wanted to talk to <i>her</i>. +"Oh, dash the rubies—wait till morning!"</p> + +<p>Billings looked sourly at the professor and went off and sat alone. He +seemed put out about the old boy not returning the garments. Never +seemed to occur to him that the professor was a devilish busy and +absent-minded old chap. Might not return them for a month. <i>I</i> knew +that.</p> + +<p>"Oh, really, Frances?" the frump was saying, "How exceedingly nice of +you, dear!" The professor was occupied for the moment with a moth. "I +hope I won't frighten you in them as you say your maid was frightened at +you. If pajamas are unbecoming to you, why just imagine me in them!"</p> + +<p>By Jove, I was devilish glad I was not supposed to hear, for I didn't +want to be required to imagine it. But as for them being unbecoming to +my darling—well, I knew she knew what I thought!</p> + +<p>Later, when the evening had shaded off and the ladies had left us, we +sat in the smoking-room talking till late. I was astonished to find Foxy +Grandpa devilish entertaining and clever—not a bad sort at all. He +seemed to have no recollection of me at all, and therefore no grudges. I +had made up my mind by this time I wasn't going to marry the frump, no +matter what came or what Billings wanted, and I would tell him so in the +morning. But whoever did marry her—and it looked like it was going to +be the professor—would have some sort of compensation in Foxy Grandpa's +entertaining stories of Eastern scandal.</p> + +<p>Billings' cub brother smoked in a corner of the room by himself and +drank innumerable slugs of whisky straight. Once I saw his father go +over to him and seem to remonstrate, but without effect.</p> + +<p>Billings wanted his father to try my special import of cigarettes, so I +sent for Jenkins, who had arrived, to bring some down. And when he saw +Foxy Grandpa calmly sitting there by me, pulling at a straw, he almost +lost his balance. But I shook my head with covert warning.</p> + +<p>"Ever see me before—eh?" asked the cub harshly, as he waved aside the +cigarettes Jenkins extended. "Last Wednesday night—remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Jenkins, hesitatingly. Then he rolled an eye at me +and corrected himself hastily but firmly:</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I don't recall <i>ever</i> seeing you before, sir."</p> + +<p>Of course, I knew he had not, but the cub got up with a sour laugh. Then +with a murmured gruff apology, he withdrew, saying he had a headache and +was going to bed. And, by Jove, what a look he gave me from the door!</p> + +<p>"Midnight!" ejaculated some one at length, just as the professor +finished a jolly rum but interesting yarn of adventures in Tibet. We all +rose and I was answering a challenge of Billings' for a Sunday morning +game of billiards, when all of a sudden a scream rang out from somewhere +above. Then came a greater commotion—two voices raised in rapid and +excited colloquy. On top of this another scream, louder and more +piercing—a woman's call for help.</p> + +<p>"One of the maids," Billings hazarded. "A mouse—"</p> + +<p>"That was Frances!" I answered him excitedly, and we all piled out into +the hall and peered down its long vista.</p> + +<p>Down one of the dimly illumined angles of the great stairway a white +figure darted, then paused, abashed, crouching back against the wall at +sight of us advancing. Above her sounded a man's voice, and even as she +screamed again, he overtook her, clasping her arm.</p> + +<p>"Frances—dear, dear Frances!" he cried. "Are you afraid of <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>And he threw his arms around her. "Come on back, dearest!" he pleaded. +"You have been dreaming."</p> + +<p>And under the light of a great red cluster of grapes, pendent from the +mouth of a grinning Bacchus, I recognized with horror the yellow mat of +hair and freckled face of Billings' cub brother. On the instant, with a +bull-like roar, Billings sprang forward, but I was quicker still. But +fleeter than either of us to reach the scene were the two elderly men, +together with Miss Warfield, the housekeeper, and a couple of the maids. +Frances darted like a bird to Foxy Grandpa, and then the figures of the +women shut her from view.</p> + +<p>Billings and I had paused, half-way to the landing. It looked as though +the elder Billings was amply capable of handling the occasion now. He +had backed the youth against the wall behind, and his language was of a +kind I hated to have my darling hear. Every time the other offered to +expostulate, his father broke out again.</p> + +<p>"You are a disgrace to an honored name!" he roared. "And the only +explanation left for me to offer our guests is that you are drunk and +don't know where you are!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father!" faltered the boy. And then he turned his black shrouded +figure to the pale marble against which he leaned, and it seemed to me +his very heart would sob away.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, dad?" came a voice from the head of the stairway. +"What in thunder is all the row about?"</p> + +<p>"By George!" gasped Billings. Everybody looked upward—one of the women +screamed. For there, slowly advancing down the angle leading to the +landing, his yellow mop of hair shining above the dark collar of a +dressing-robe, was the duplicate of the youth cowering under the elder +Billings' wrath.</p> + +<p>And out of a dead, tense silence, came his voice again:</p> + +<p>"Can't any of you speak?" He touched the figure on the shoulder. "Who +are you?" he asked in an odd, strained voice.</p> + +<p>The black figure turned toward him a face agonized in grief.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," came a voice pitifully—his voice, it seemed.</p> + +<p>The cub just stood like a statue for a moment—stood as we all stood. +Then slowly his hand went out and touched the hand of his double. +Slowly his fingers swept the face, the hair; gradually his eyes closed, +as though he were sensing by touch alone.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a loud cry leaped from his throat.</p> + +<p>"Sister!" he shouted. And he swept the black figure to him.</p> + +<p>Then, tossing back his head, the youth faced us with blazing, angry +eyes, looking as David must have, when he faced old what's-his-name.</p> + +<p>"If there's a man among you, I'd like to know what this means?" he +cried.</p> + +<p>There was a blank silence for an instant, and then—</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can explain," said a voice.</p> + +<p>And up the stairway advanced Professor Doozenberry.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>IN THE GLOW OF THE RUBIES</h3> + + +<p>Evening had come again.</p> + +<p>In fact, it was almost bedtime. Frances and I sat before the hearth in +the library, looking silently into the red heart of the dying embers of +fragrant pine cones. For in the heights of the Pocantico Hills it often +is chilly on summer nights.</p> + +<p>My darling sat on a low <i>fauteuil</i>, her chin resting upon her hand, her +beautiful eyes fixed dreamily, inscrutably, upon the fading coals. In +her lap lay the spread of the crimson pajamas.</p> + +<p>She was thinking—thinking—I wondered what! And I was thinking how +jolly rum it all was; that Francis wasn't Frances, that the professor +wasn't Billings, Colonel Francis Kirkland wasn't Foxy Grandpa and wasn't +the frump's father after all; and that the frump, herself—bless her, +her name was Elizabeth—wasn't Frances, and wasn't a frump at all, but +just a jolly, nice, homely old dear, you know. And I was trying to catch +and hold some of the deuced queer things the professor had discoursed +upon about ancient Oriental what's-its-name, and astral bodies, +obsession, psychical research and all that sort of thing. Somehow, dash +it, it had all seemed devilish unreasonable and improbable to +<i>me</i>—couldn't get hold of it, you know; but as everybody else had said +"Ah-h-h!" and had wagged their heads as though they understood, I just +said: "Dash it, of course, you know!" and recrossed my legs and took a +fresher grip on my monocle.</p> + +<p>The most devilish hard thing to get hold of had been that Frances had +never sat on the arm of my Morris chair, had never told me she liked me +better than any man she had ever met, and had never called me "Dicky" at +any time or anywhere. I wondered if she ever would, and how the deuce +fellows went about it when they proposed to the girl they madly loved. I +was devilish put out, you know, that I had never tried it so I <i>could</i> +know.</p> + +<p>From across the hall droned the voices from the smoking-room—Colonel +Kirkland and the judge debating something about treaty ports and the +Manchurian railway. Through the French windows from the open loggia came +the eager, pitched tones of the professor and the frump—no, Elizabeth, +I mean—discussing Aldeberan and Betelguese, dead suns, star clusters +and the nebular hypothesis.</p> + +<p>Within the room Billings had snapped out the lights, to bring out the +blazing fire of his treasured ruby, and from the tray in the dark corner +where he was closing it in his collection vault, it gleamed like the end +of a bright cigar. The other four were absently clutched in my darling's +hand and the crimson shine gleamed bravely through her finger bars. +"Carbuncles—ancient carbuncles," the professor had called them, "that +the Chinese believed their dragons carried in their mouths, in their +black caves in days of old, to furnish light whereby they could see to +devour their victims." And <i>that</i> I believed, for I could see some +practical sense about it!</p> + +<p>"What <i>I</i> should like to know," said the dear, precious cub, hugging his +knee by the mantel, "is where <i>I</i> come in!"</p> + +<p>"You don't come in," said Billings, lifting him playfully by the ear; +"you come <i>out</i>!" And out they went.</p> + +<p>And my dear girl and I were like what's-his-name's picture—alone at +last, you know. She stirred softly and her sigh came like the wind +through the trees at night.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we will have to burn them," she said dolefully; "the +professor says it is the only thing to do."</p> + +<p>"Jolly shame, I say!" I murmured indignantly.</p> + +<p>"It seems a crime," she said softly, and there was a little choke in her +voice. She slipped to the soft-fibered rug before the fire. I gently +brought my chair closer to her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>For a moment she pressed her cheek against the crimson mass, then +kneeling forward, laid it gently on the glowing coals. There was a +flash, a lightning blaze of red that almost blinded us, and then for a +brief space a field of shining ash. Against this the tiny serpent frogs +writhed and twisted and turned at last to leaden gray. Over the spread +of all, swept wave after wave of golden, crimsoned pictures—temples and +pagodas—dragons that licked fiery tongues at us—strange faces that +came and went, leering hideously into our own.</p> + +<p>And then of a sudden it was all faded—gone! The breeze from the open +window stirred the ashes to the side. She dropped back with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"They're gone," she breathed mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," I said; "you've these left." And daringly I laid my hand +upon the one that clasped the rubies. And I thrilled as it lay still +beneath my own.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, you dear old, wicked, enchanted pajamas," she said. "I don't +care—I just love you, because—" She paused.</p> + +<p>"Because they brought us together?" By Jove, I didn't know I had said +it, till it came out!</p> + +<p>An instant, and then I caught it—just a little whisper, you know:</p> + +<p>"Yes—Dicky!"</p> + +<p>By Jove! And then, dash it, my monocle dropped! But I let it go.</p> + +<p>Presently she looked at the glowing rubies in her hand.</p> + +<p>"They are from India, you know, Dicky—from Mandalay, the professor +said." And she murmured: "'On the road to Mandalay, where the old +flotilla lay'—don't you remember? I've been there, Dicky."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said. "Have you, though? Is it jolly?"</p> + +<p>"The poet seemed to think so—" She laughed. "Do you know Kipling, +Dicky?" I tried to think, but dashed if I could remember.</p> + +<p>I wondered if it would be a good place to take a trip to!</p> + + +<p>I hitched closer. "What does—er—this poet chap say about it? What's it +like, you know?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I'm afraid it's wicked, Dicky, a good deal like the +haunted pajamas." She leaned forward, chin upon her hand again, looking +into the fading coals. "I'll tell you what he says."</p> + +<p>Then her voice went on:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ship me somewhere east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said, interested.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For the temple bells are callin', and it's there that I would be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the old Moulmein pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I brought my hand down on my knee.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, you know—er—Frances," I exclaimed with enthusiasm, "we'll +go there for our honeymoon, by Jove! Shall we—eh?"</p> + +<p>And then the jolly rubies rolled unheeded to the floor. And nothing +stirred but the ashes of the haunted pajamas!</p> + +<p>And then—Oh, but Frances says that's <i>all</i>!</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TITLES_SELECTED_FROM_GROSSET_DUNLAPS_LIST" id="TITLES_SELECTED_FROM_GROSSET_DUNLAPS_LIST"></a>TITLES SELECTED FROM GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST</h2> + + +<h3><i>A CERTAIN RICH MAN.</i><br /> By William Allen White.</h3> + +<p>A vivid, startling portrayal of one man's financial greed, its +wide-spreading power, its action in Wall Street, and its effect on the +three women most intimately in his life. A splendid, entertaining +American novel.</p> + + +<h3><i>IN OUR TOWN.</i><br /> By William Allen White.<br /> Illustrated by F. R. Gruger and +W. Glackens.</h3> + +<p>Made up of the observations of a keen newspaper editor, involving the +town millionaire, the smart set, the literary set, the bohemian set, and +many others. All humorously related and sure to hold the attention.</p> + + +<h3><i>NATHAN BURKE.</i><br /> By Mary S. Watts.</h3> + +<p>The story of an ambitious, backwoods Ohio boy who rose to prominence. +Everyday humor of American rustic life permeates the book.</p> + + +<h3><i>THE HIGH HAND.</i><br /> By Jacques Futrelle.<br /> Illustrated by Will Grete.</h3> + +<p>A splendid story of the political game, with a son of the soil on the +one side, and a "kid glove" politician on the other. A pretty girl, +interested in both men, is the chief figure.</p> + + +<h3><i>THE BACKWOODSMEN.</i><br /> By Charles G. D. Roberts.<br /> Illustrated.</h3> + +<p>Realistic stories of men and women living midst the savage beauty of the +wilderness. Human nature at its best and worst is well portrayed.</p> + + +<h3><i>YELLOWSTONE NIGHTS.</i><br /> By Herbert Quick.</h3> + +<p>A jolly company of six artists, writers and other clever folks take a +trip through the National Park, and tell stories around camp fire at +night. Brilliantly clever and original.</p> + + +<h3><i>THE PROFESSOR'S MYSTERY.</i><br /> By Wells Hastings and Brian Hooker.<br /> +Illustrated by Hanson Booth.</h3> + +<p>A young college professor, missing his steamer for Europe, has a +romantic meeting with a pretty girl, escorts her home, and is enveloped +in a big mystery.</p> + + +<h3><i>THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS.</i><br /> By Meredith Nicholson.<br /> Illustrated by +C. Coles Phillips and Reginald Birch.</h3> + +<p>Seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and +she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer +amusement.</p> + + + +<h3><i>THE MAGNET.</i><br /> By Henry C. Rowland.<br /> Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.</h3> + +<p>The story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a +yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls.</p> + + +<h3><i>THE TURN OF THE ROAD.</i><br /> By Eugenia Brooks Frothingham.</h3> + +<p>A beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of +love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is +stronger than worldly success.</p> + + +<h3><i>SCOTTIE AND HIS LADY.</i><br /> By Margaret Morse.<br /> Illustrated by Harold M. +Brett.</h3> + +<p>A young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a +Scotch Collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet +lead the young mistress into another romance.</p> + + +<h3><i>SHEILA VEDDER.</i><br /> By Amelia E. Barr.<br /> Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher.</h3> + +<p>A very beautiful romance of the Shetland Islands, with a handsome, +strong willed hero and a lovely girl of Gaelic blood as heroine. A +sequel to "Jan Vedder's Wife."</p> + + +<h3><i>JOHN WARD, PREACHER.</i><br /> By Margaret Deland.</h3> + +<p>The first big success of this much loved American novelist. It is a +powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful +wife to his own narrow creed.</p> + + +<h3><i>THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT.</i><br /> By Robert W. Service.<br /> Illustrated by +Maynard Dixon.</h3> + +<p>One of the best stories of "Vagabondia" ever written, and one of the +most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the +Yukon. The love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Haunted Pajamas, by Francis Perry Elliott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAUNTED PAJAMAS *** + +***** This file should be named 33780-h.htm or 33780-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/8/33780/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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