"George!" breathed Billings, breaking a curious, tense silence.
The professor suddenly faced us, holding up the pajamas with a gesture of inquiry.
"From a friend of Mr. Lightnut's in China," Billings explained.
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.
"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."
The professor looked perplexed.
"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. "Youunderstand!"
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.
"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!"
Out came glasses and lens again and he bent over the collar eagerly.
"H'm! TheHwuyi, 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?"
Billings nodded emphatically.
"Surest thing you know," he declared firmly, and whispered to me triumphantly. "Didn't I tell him it was idiotic?"
The professor's lips moved rapidly and his visage twisted into a horrible frown.
"Why, why—a—what!" With mouth open, and gripping the pajamas tightly, he glared at us each in turn.
"Oh, impossible!" he rasped harshly, seizing the lens and bending again. "Incredible—poof—absurd—tut, tut, what nonsense!"
The glass swept the lines rapidly. Suddenly, with a cry, the professor dropped the lens, a violent start almost lifting him from the floor.
"Papauhegopoulos!" he cried explosively, and whirled on us again.
Dash me, if I didn't fall back a step, his eyes rolled so wildly. But Billings stood his ground, by Jove!
"I didn't quite catch—" he began hesitatingly, angling his bristly red head forward and smiling pleasantly.
The professor seemed abashed of a sudden.
"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.
Billings' eyes yielded admiration.
"Great Scott, Dicky!" he whispered in my ear. "See what a thing education is! Think of being able to swearin Greek—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!"
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.
"Ridiculous, I say! Poof!" He snapped his fingers. "Necromancy and thaumaturgy transmitted in pajamas! Absurd!"
"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!"
"By Jove!" I remarked. "Perhaps Professor Huckleberry won't mind telling us—"
"What I think, gentlemen? WhatcouldI 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!"
He snorted indignantly.
"Ghosts!" faltered Billings.
"Oh, I say!" I rather gasped. Dash me if it didn't give me a turn, rather!
The professor shrugged his shoulders.
"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—"
He paused to polish his spectacles.
"Tell me," he said more cheerfully, "do our free translations of the ideographs so far agree in essentials—eh?"
"Like as two peas!" Billings declared with manifest enthusiasm.
The professor looked gratified and bowed.
"Of course, the rendition is entirely a free one," he remarked. "You must not expect too much."
"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."
"Forget it!" hissed Billings. "Didn't he just say it was free? He's no cheap skate, I tell you."
The professor resumed:
"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!"
The great man breathed heavily and batted at us over his glasses.
"Credat Judaeus apella—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, Ididknow I was getting devilish sleepy.
The professor waved his glasses. "Did you ever read such a childish, ridiculous, extravagant asseveration?" he demanded.
"Ass—eh? I should say so!" I worked this off indignantly.
"Tommyrot!" murmured Billings absently. He seemed thoughtful.
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.
"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.
"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?"
He ducked again over the letters and came up, looking chagrined.
"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!"
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 nowwasa laugh. I never would have known it. It was more like a shrieking squeak—rusty hinge, you know, that sort of thing.
"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!"
"Believe it?" said Billings drily, "I'd bet a purse on it." He whispered to me: "Don't need any affidavit; itshows. Sounds like a country wagon on a down grade, brake on, and shrieking like a banshee."
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.
"Eh? Why, no!" I whispered through the opening. "He's justlaughing. Don't be a jolly ass!" And I closed the door sharply.
The professor looked up from the pajamas, and folding his arms, eyed Billings with a cunning leer.
"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.Reductio ad absurdum—eh, gentlemen?"
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.
So at random I just nodded eagerly.
"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?"
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 thatIwas!
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.
"You've got it, Professor!" he said, grinning.
Then he whispered to me aside:
"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:
"'Night!"
Ten minutes later I was almost wide awake, for Billings was talking over long distance—and toher!
But I did not like the way he did it.
"Shut up, Francis!" he bellowed. "Now you listen to what I'm telling you—and dojustas I tell you to, too—if you don't, I'll mash your face when I come up there! You hear?"
And he swore at her—yes, by Jove,swore!
"Oh, here—I say now!" I remonstrated indignantly.
"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.
And dash it, Iwasimpressed—I was delighted.
"By Jove!" I cried. "Fine!" For I knew by that that she had forgiven me.
"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."
"Oh, look here!" I growled protestingly, "I don't like to hear you talking about—er—Frances that way."
Billings grunted and bit a cigar savagely without stopping to clip it. He pulled fiercely at it a moment.
"Kind of you, old chap," he exclaimed, "but you don't know our family asIdo. If Francis has got a headachenow, I know that by morning—"
"Headache?" I cried in dismay.
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?"
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, shewantedto come! Shemust!
"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."
"Of course," he said absently. "She's going to drive the car down."
"Eh—what say?" I was sure I had not heard aright.
"I say she's going to bring the car down—my chauffeur's sick, it seems."
I didn't wonder at that, but Ididwonder at his sudden change.
"Then you're not afraid—"
"Afraid? I should say not! She can drive better than I can—better than anybody in Westchester County!"
"I see—I see!" I said in a low voice. And Ididsee, poor fellow! By Jove, my spirits sank to zero.
"Yes,there'ssomebody you can always rely on!" he enthused under his changing mood. "Good thing in this blankety world there'ssomebodyyou 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."
"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.
"Of course, you never have met my sister, have you?" he puffed. "I mean the one that's been up at Radcliffe."
"Oh,never!" I said promptly.
"You will in the morning," said Billings, flicking his ash. "Not much to look at—I mean not what you would call handsome—"
I interrupted. "Oh, but I say," I exclaimed unguardedly, "how can you say that? I think she's just beautiful."
"Eh?" He stared so hard I was afraid I had got his mind off again. "Thought you said you had never met her."
"No, no, I never did," I stammered. "Mistake, you know."
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."
Dashed if I could see how she could be, for, by Jove, I had seen her myself. It was the frump! Peach? She was afright!
Here Billings' eyes hung on the ceiling as though he would bore through it.
"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."
"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."
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 boywillhave any visitors to-night?"
I yawned. I knew it wasn't likely—not withhim!
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?"
By Jove, I got red—could just feel it, you know!
"Ever see a suit of black silk pajamas?" Billings chuckled.
Now for it! "I—I—never did," I managed to get out.
"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."
By Jove, what a relief! I felt myself breathing again.
"Wish you would stay," I said, for I felt uneasy about him.
"Oh, no," carelessly; "all my traps are over there, you know." He smiled. "To say nothing of the new pajamas."
Standing in the door, he looked upward again, twirling his cane. His head shook dubiously.
"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."
I murmured some reply as I followed him without. Then I stood a moment looking down the shaft after he had descended.
"Hope he'll be all right in the morning," I mused. "And hope his infernal mood won't shift round again as to Frances!"
"Are yousure, Mr. Lightnut?"
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.
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.
"Haven't we met before, Mr. Lightnut?" she had asked.
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!
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, whensheremembered! 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!
"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!"
The cat! Nice sort of host!
But the dear girl just laughed—how I remembered that laugh!
"Poor Francis!" she said lightly. "Do you know," she added, "I believe I can forgive a Harvard man almost anything, Mr. Lightnut."
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.
She flushed a little shyly and addressed the frump.
"Are we going to keep Mr. Lightnut standing like this all day?" she asked.
"Half on earth and half in heaven—like what's-his-name's coffin," I suggested. Devilish good, that, don't you think?Shethought 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?
And it was just then that Jenkins bolted wildly from the building.
"Mr. Lightnut—quick, sir! Mr. Billings, sir!"
I thought of the telephone right off, but he just caught my arm. First time ever knew Jenkins to take a liberty.
"Come quick, sir!" he exclaimed. "He's up-stairs and, oh, off his nut, sir—awful!"
"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.
"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."
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.
The janitor's pale face met us at the landing.
"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."
"Good idea," I agreed. "We'll just rush him to the car—but, h'm!"
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.Hemight 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.
I stood there in the corridor, puzzling.
"We must get his clothes," I said to Jenkins. "No, wait,wait—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?"
Jenkins shook his head distractedly.
"Thought of that, sir—no use—nothing anywhere around here would half-way meet on Mr. Billings."
Here the professor's man interposed.
"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.
Billings was standing by the window looking at a glass thermometer that he had just withdrawn from his mouth.
"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.
"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."
"Never mind," I said anxiously, for I knew he was talking about the rubies; "wedon't care." I smiled brightly. "Let's go down and see the car—nicecar!" And I tried to get hold of his fat side, but missed it.
"Car?" Billings looked puzzled. Then his face broke into a smile. "Carpe diem—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.
The professor's man protested: "Professor Doozenberry don't like—"
"Oh, dash it, let him have them!" I exclaimed, for Billings was already chuckling happily and writing in the little blank book.
"Come on," I pleaded, catching a fold of the pajamas. "Wouldn't you like to come get some clothes on?"
He drew back in alarm. "No, no—not yet—not until I complete my notes," was his crazy answer. "You know:sublata causa, tollitur effectus!" And he looked as though he thought this would finish me.
"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?"
I looked at him miserably as we entered the car to go down.
"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 knowyouare Billings? Can't yousee?"
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.
"Better and better," he muttered. "Now, if we could only go tohim!" 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?"
"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."
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!
She gave a little scream and fell on Billings' neck, almost bearing him to the ground.
"Oh, Jacky, Jacky!" she sobbed.
By Jove, I almost fell myself! Sothatwas the way the wind lay! And I had never even so much as suspected.Thatwas 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—
Worse? Why, dash it, shekissedhim!
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!
No wonder he was crazy! Why, dash it, he wouldhaveto be crazy!
He was muttering to himself.
"Remarkable!" I heard. "Singularly sensate and exhilarating! Now, I never would have thought—um!"
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—youknow!
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—"
"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.
"Jacky, dear," gushed the Chinese freak, "wouldn't you like for me to sit by you and hold your poor hand?"
It looked as if he would.
The frump turned to me. "Can you drive the car, Mr. Lightnut?"
CouldI? Well, I would show her! Especially as Frances had changed to the front as she saw us bringing out Billings.
"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!"
Jenkins hesitated. "I think there's a heavy fine, sir," he hinted.
I snapped my fingers at him and he jumped to obey.
"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.
And just in time!
Around the corner whirled a policeman—and, by Jove, no less than that fat Irishman, O'Keefe! With him was the professor's man.
"Don't tell me," panted the officer; "I know my—"
And then he gave a shout and sprang for the car.
"It's that fellow that was prowling around the station house!" he yelled. "Here, stop there!"
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.
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.
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.
"Oh, I think American men are great—arewonderful!" she cried, striking her little hands together. "Especially Harvard men—and especially—" She stopped with the faintest catch.
"By Jove!" I cried. "Do youmeanit?"
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!
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.
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!
"Hello!" I called to him, just after we clipped Yonkers.
He looked up at me, smiling and nodding.
"Feel all right now, old man?" I inquired cheerily.
Billings looked at me hard, and then, dash it, hewinked! And I began to wonder, by Jove, if it was just plain drunk.
Three miles south of Irvington, Billings jumped wildly in the air and yelled for me to stop.
"Acoleopteran!" he shrieked excitedly as I throttled down. "Acoleopteranstruck me in the eye—one of thehydrophilidaefamily!"
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!
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.
Billings got in and then I helped her. "Awfully jolly good of you to humor his crazy whims," I whispered gratefully.
"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 theantennae—" And she flopped eagerly by him and together they bent over the glass.
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 theporte-cochère.
The frump whispered to the man who opened the door.
"As quietly as possible, Wilkes," she said, "and without his father seeing him."
"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—"
"Be quick, then," jerked the frump. "You know what to do."
"I guess I do, miss," answered the butler gloomily. "I'vehadto do it often enough—Perkins and me. A good cold souse—that's the thing—and then bed.Iknow!"
Billings waved his hand to the frump as he mounted the stairway inside. And then, dash it, he kissed his fingers.
"Vale!" he chirped, leaning over the marble balustrade. "Vale, sed spero non semper!I will resume the discussionin propria persona."
And, by Jove, if she didn't come back at him quick as lightning, and with his own gibberish, too:
"Confido et conquiesco!" she cooed, waving her handkerchief.
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.
The frump kind of glared down the deserted vista of the fine old hall and shrugged her shoulders.
"Everybody loafing, as usual," she muttered sourly, and she hurled her coat at the carven back of a great cathedral chair—and missed it.
It was clear that her type scorned conventionalities and knew how to make themselves thoroughly at home.
"I hope you'll be made comfortable here, Mr. Lightnut," she said, peeling a glove with a jerk, "but I have my doubts."
And she gave a kind of hollow laugh.
I shifted distressfully. "Oh, really now," I began protestingly, but she marched right over me:
"I can assure you that a guesthereearns a martyr's crown," she said, lifting her eyebrows. Then she shook her head, her lips compressed.
I coughed.Couldn'tsay the thing Iwantedto 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.
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 myfinesse.
"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."
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.
"It's Francis that's to blame for that sort of thing," she rasped, nodding down the hall.
"Frances?" I ejaculated in protest. "Oh, here, Isay, now—"
"You don'tknowFrancis, 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.
I coughed again.
The cat! Andthiswas my darling's friend!
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: "Youknow 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—nopride!"
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,groundthem. 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.
But I was counting forty-four!
Ever try that when you were angry and wanted to insult somebody? Preacher told us about it once at the old Harvard Union, andIthought 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 youmighthave said.
So, by the twenty-eighth count, I had her; and jamming my hands almost through my pockets, I faced her with a withering frown.
"By Jove, if I were you, Miss—er—" Dash me if I hadn't forgotten her name! "If you feel that way,Idon't see why the de—H'm! I mean why do you stay on here and—er—sacrificeyourself?" I drawled this in the most devilish sarcastic way! "I'd pack my jolly trunk and get as far away as I could."
I added earnestly—coaxingly: "Andstayaway, you know!"
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.
Not she! She just twisted a sour smile at me.
"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."
It did not surprise me—not at all, by Jove! Whatdidsurprise 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.
The frump wasthissort! Poor Frances! Poor Frances!
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.
So I coughed significantly in lieu of using her dashed name, and lifted my monocle so I could bore her sidewise through narrowed eyes.
"Dare say you've put up with Frances though forJack'ssake!" I let her have it coldly, deliberately. "Brother Jack has been a sort of compensation—that'sit, eh?"
And I shot her a foxy wink!
That is, Ialmostdid—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 herthat—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—youknow!
But dashed if this imported freak didn't suddenly nod with a sort of chokey snuffle and reach out her hand for mine.
"How youdounderstand!" 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! "Idotry 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 ahead!" 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 haveneverknown what it was to have ahome—think of it!"
I didn't want to think of it—besides, I didn't believe it. I knew peoplehaveto 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.
By Jove, I wondered if Icouldpink her!
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.
Idea seized me that perhaps, though, something more brutally direct would—
"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 askyouto take charge here!"
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.
"Yes," she said slowly. "Jacky says it'll have to come to that some day—somearrangement. Neither of us ever want to marry."
"Oh!"
And my monocle dropped!
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 cultherswas. 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 shewasn't. 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.
"Thom-as!" the frump exploded.
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.
"Some specimens that Mr. Billings gathered—plants and foliage; he left them in the car," jerked the frump. "See they are cared for."
The man nodded indifferently and slouched away.
Her frown gloomed after him and her voice snapped at his laggard heels:
"And Flora—send Flora to me. Is she asleep somewhere?"
She faced me with an acid grimace and shrug.
"You see how it is here, Mr. Lightnut," she grumbled querulously; "butyouunderstand!"
Understand! By Jove, yes—I thought Idid! 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!
But I murmured some jolly rubbish, hoping every instant that Wilkes would come and lead me away.
"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?"
I felt my face tingling.
"See here—Oh, dash it all!" I protested. "That's notfair, you know!"
"Fair?" She bit the word out of the air and just glared at me. "Why, they know she's afool!"
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,sosorry!
And now, dash it, the day had come and I knew that she was right! For Iwassorry, by Jove!
"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—"
He shook his head gloomily, then turned to me.
"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."
"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?"
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."
My monocle dropped, and I almost did myself.
"By Jove!" I gasped feebly.
"Yes, sir." Wilkes looked up at the paneled ceiling and stroked his chin. "He mentioned that they found them—orthoughtthey found them in the bag he had with him."
"But he's got themon, and they are his own," I managed to get out.
Wilkes' face lightened understandingly. "Oh-h, Isee, sir," he said, nodding with his jolly chin hanging; "sothat'show 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—veryneat, 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,Isee!"
Dash me, ifIdid! The only thing I saw was that it must have been Jenkins that had telephoned and the message had been twisted. What hehad said, of course, was that Billings hadalmostbeen arrested. But the police finding the pajamas in his bag—I did not like that. Could it be that, after all, Billingshadfound 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,hadrun down and recoveredher pajamas. It was a relief that they were out of his hands, anyhow—Icould get them again, buthecouldn't. By Jove!
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.
"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."
"Message?" I repeated, sobering.
"Yes, sir—something about some pajamas—"
"Pajamas?" I faltered, and I dropped into a chair. "Oh!"
Wilkes looked grave. "Pajamas seem to be the thing with him this time, sir—it's the queerest go! That's anewone,thatis!" 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'reusedto; 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—"
"But themessage?" I suggested nervously.
"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—at once—and tell him I'm on the trail of the mystery of those pajamas, and I'll soon know as much about 'em ashedoes. Just tell him that—he'llknow what I mean.'"
"Oh!" I gasped shortly.
"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?"
I had not—I had only groaned!
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.'"
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:
"'And what's more, you tell him I say—'"
The butler hesitated and seemed embarrassed—his heavy jowls reddened a little. He looked beyond me and coughed.
"Of courseyouknow, sir," he said, shifting uneasily, "Mr. Billings ain't exactly himself, so to speak, so you mustn't mind. Fact is—if Imaysay so—he's got the most considerable case of jimmies I ever see him with, so—"
"Oh,goon!" I breathed miserably.
"Yes, sir—h'm!" Wilkes heaved distressfully, then drove doggedly ahead: "Oh, well, sir, what hesayswas 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.
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!
Wilkes coughed again. I winced—there was evidently more!
"Yes, sir," he murmured, as I cut a quick glance upward. "Hedidsay further that if you weren't satisfied, though, and would prefer another trial—"
"Eh?" I bounded out of the chair. "What's that? Oh, dash it,yes—I would, by Jove!"
"Very good, sir." Wilkes looked relieved, himself. "In that case, he said he was willing to experiment again—that was his word—experiment. He said he wouldn't detain you here onhisaccount, but he wouldhaveto ask you to stay another day or two while he made his observations."
It was a devilish cold shoulder, but I had no choice. Fact was, by Jove, I was so jolly glad forthatchance, 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 forher! I was as happy as a bird, and life was again one grand, sweet what's-its-name.
"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, takethat; take them both—thankyou, Wilkes!—and there's a five, too. Oh, yes, youmusttake it all—I have no use for it, you know—neverwoulduse those particular ones!"
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 canalwaysmanage them. He sympathized with me—you could see that—dashed if the fellow wasn't almost weeping as he closed the door.
And then I just flopped down upon a divan and lay there panting like a what's-its-name—reaction, you know. So hehadknown! 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 wasawful! 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.
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—youknow! I even got to wondering if she really loved me—fact! And then came the disquieting thought of how devilish disappointing and awful itwouldbe if Jenkins should forget a stock of my Egyptian Koroskos. Whatwasit 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 aboutourfuture until she had dumped the other fellow in the road—that was it.
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 aboutthat. What the deuce was it?
And luckily, just then Jenkins came!
And when he had laid out my things, and I found I was to wear a scarf of Harvard crimson—the colorsheadmired—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.
"I say, Jenkins," I began carelessly, "there's some jolly saying or proverb—eh,youknow?"
"Certainly, sir," responded Jenkins absently, for he was intensely concentrated on the selection of a scarf-pin.
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,youknow!" And I wondered if it would be the sardonyx or the ruby, and hoped it would be the ruby.
"Mm-m-m," murmured Jenkins, blinking thoughtfully. "Let's see, sir—it ain't that one about the hair of the dog, is it?"
"Hair of the—Certainlynot!" I exclaimed with indignation. "No, it's some jolly saw about being off with the old and on with—" I stalled.
"Off and on," came quickly from Jenkins; then he went back to his jolly pins.
"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, offwhat? You catch the idea, don't you?"
"Certainly, sir." He tried the ruby and sardonyx in turn against the silk and rejected both—hetook a garnet. It wouldn't have beenmytaste, 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—andthenI knew he had it!
"I don't seem to remember it, sir—notprecisely—h'm—but could it be this: ''Tis well to be off—'" He paused with finger on chin, rolling his eyes upward.
"Oh, dash it, yes!" I said disgustedly. "Why,Itold you—"
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,hereit is, sir—I'vegot it now! See if this ain't it:"
And he laid it off with his fingers the way a woman counts the words in a telegram to keep from going over ten:
"'Tis-well-to-be-off-and-on-with-the-old-love, but-don't-let-on-to-the-new'—there you are, sir!"
"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.
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. Andthen, 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.
"Off and on with the old love!" It kept whispering itself in my ear till I hardly knew what I was doing.Couldit be that she would—but, oh, dash it,no! I knew she wouldn't! And yet another chap might come along and she might find she would rather be engaged tohim! Oh, but I was sureshewas 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!
What the deuce was the best thing to do?
"Pardon, sir," came in Jenkins' voice, and in the glass I saw his head piking anxiously over my shoulder; "butIthink with them changeable kind, the best thing to try for is a sudden, firm knot!"
"Eh?" I said, staring. And then I whirled upon him, seizing both his hands.
"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!"
"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins batted a little—always does when I notice these little things—so modest, don't you know.
But I had the idea now, and I gripped it tight along with my monocle, as, ten minutes later, I sauntered down the stairs.
I would speak to her father at once!