"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.
"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—"
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!
I strained for another bar.
"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—youlookdisturbed." And, dash it, he insisted upon closing the door. "You mustn't letthembother you while you are here," he urged pleasantly; "you must just go ahead and do the thing youwantto do."
By Jove, there seemed little opportunity for it!
"Thanks awfully," I murmured feebly.
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."
"Charmed, I'm sure," I chirped up. Jolly lie, though, for I wasn't impressed; didn't knowwhothe other fellow was, but I hadseenIrving in London—scores of times. Not a patch on John Drew tomythinking!
The judge was murmuring something apologetic:
"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?"
"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 wouldhaveto let me see her at luncheon! I just caught back in time to get the end of a sentence:
"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 thepact conventa?"
"Where?" I shrugged, and I let it go at that, pretending to be busied with a match; for dash me ifIknew! Never had seen it even—in fact, didn't care a jolly hang if I never did, don't you know.
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!"
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.
"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—
"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 witheverybodyin politics—"humor 'em gently, just like children," were his exact words; "you know it reallydon'tmatter!"
"And now, let's see," resumed the judge, brightening. "I wonder who wecanget to take you!" His fingers drummed together thoughtfully. "Um, of course, there is Francis—" my heart took a jolly leap—"but Francis is impossible—quiteimpossible!"
"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."
He smiled grimly. "Naturalyoushould say that, but—" He expectorated with deliberation, glowering at me as he did it. "No, sir!" His head shook with decision. "Wouldn't do—I wouldn't think of trusting you with Francis," he finished shortly.
"O!" Just a gasp, you know; and my jolly cheeks stung as from a dash of fiery what's-its-name sauce. Soheknew about the pajamas, too!
I half rose from my chair.
"I—I assure you, sir—" I began stiffly.
His fussy shrug checked me. "No, no, we'll just have to wait till Jack gets up. The only thingI'manxious about is the scenery and the view points; and I just know if Francis went with you, you would never see any of it."
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 seethem, if they could seeher? I was just going to suggest this, when he went on:
"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."
"By Jove, did she though?" I hitched to the front of the chair. "How dev—I mean how—"
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—"Francis won't do!" And he looked at me steadily.
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.
"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."
"Oh!" I felt myself shrink together, my knees slanting away from him. My dashed monocle hung limp.
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—whew!"
"Fast—Frances?" It faltered tremulously from my lips; my cigar dropped with a soft thud.
His eyes widened. "Oh, 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—"
"Poker?" I moistened my lips. Then I brightened, for perhaps he meant bridge—andthatwas 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.
"Bridge!" he exploded. "Why, Francis doesn't know bridge from casino!Poker, 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, youknowthe place, then?"
For I had gasped audibly. "Only—only by reputation," I responded hastily.
"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 howIknow about the place." And, discriminatingly, he selected a fresh cigar and lighted it.
"You—you don't mean they were really arrested?" I faltered.
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!"
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.Hesaid they were "prunes."
ButFrances—and "Spot" McGinty's! Surely I had not heard aright.
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 meanyourFrances—surely you are not!"
"I just am!" His jaw set with a snap. "Just who I'm talking about and nobody else, young man! I mean,myFrancis—Francis Leslie Billings—who else could I mean?" He almost groaned. "Oh, you don'tknowFrancis!"
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 foralways, don't you know. Knew, of course, that it was just pureluckthat Frances cared for me—realized jolly well I wasn't particularly clever and all that, you know; butshedidn'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 giveher, that she didn't seem to have already from somebody, was—well justtrust.
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!
Meantime, her father was studying me a little oddly and smiling.
"I see you don't quite like what I say about Francis," he remarked, puffing complacently.
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!"
"Wh—what's that?—Lightnut!" He turned a beet color and grasped the arms of his chair.
"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!"
"Well, I'll be—" He swallowed it, neck forward, and stood panting a bit. "Harsh, 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!
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.
And then—
I wondered if Jenkins had a time-table!
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.
"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."
"Oh, Judge, I am sure of it," I urged feelingly.
"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 amdelighted." 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."
And, by Jove, he smiled at me—a devilish pleasant smile!
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.
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. Heexpectedit—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 justcouldn'tunderstand this, don't you know, and to have him suspect the truth—oh, it would have been too mortifying—toohumiliating, dash it!
So I just leaned forward and made a go:
"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—youknow?"
"You speak to Francis?"—he just leaped toward me—"Why, myboy!" And he was wringing my arm with one hand while the other clasped my shoulder. "Myde-e-earboy—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—self-sacrificingis the word! Are you quite sure you don't mind?"
"Mind?" By Jove, I think I looked what I felt at such a dashed silly question.
"Well! well!well!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—forIshould 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!
"By Jove!" I thought, as I nodded and smiled back, "I wonder what he would say if he knew that Frances and I arealreadyengaged!"
Presently I got in a word:
"Then, Judge, I have your permission to speak to Frances?"
"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, sogratefulto you!"
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 thinkherfather 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!
"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 elseeverwould!"
"Judge!" I ejaculated, shocked.
"Who would want to?" And he grimaced horribly.
"Oh, I say now!" I protested warmly.
"My boy, I tell you I know—youdon't!" 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."
"Oh!" I commented. Wondered if one of these was the other chap she was engaged to.
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.Well, sir," he stiffened dramatically, leveling one finger at me, "do you think that Francis would even listen to him?"
Did I? Well, dash it,didI?
But I tried to mumble something polite.
"And then—" he puffed as he relighted his cigar, "there's Jack's chauffeur, you know."
"Eh, Jack's—what'sthat?" I gripped the arms of my chair.
"Yes," he nodded, "Jack's chauffeur. Oh, I wassodisappointed at the result of his effort!" The old gentleman slipped back in his chair with a sigh. "Francis just swore at him, you know!"
"By Jove!" I managed to get out—and yet, somehow, I was devilish pleased about it.
"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."
I caught my breath. "In—intimate!" I stammered. "You don't mean Frances and this chauffeur?"
"Oh, 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."
"Wha-at—what's that—notcamping?" I looked at him aghast. "Oh, come now, Judge—really you don't meanthat, do you—not camping together?"
I spoke excitedly, but he just stared at me with an expression of blank surprise.
"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?Idon'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!"
"Oh!" I uttered, seeing a light.
Sothatwas 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.
"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."
"Oh, dash it,yes!" And I think this must have been when I broke the corner out of a filling.
"That was why I was so sorry he failed with Francis," he continued regretfully, "butyoumay succeed better—oh, I don't know but what it will do just as well!"
"Thanks—er—awfully!" I murmured weakly.
"Oh, I think so—oh, yes!" He bobbed his head as though he were quite resigned to it—then went on thoughtfully:
"And anyhow, if Francis findsyouare in deadly earnest, why it—" His voice dropped off musingly: "Well, I believethatwould make it easier—oh, lots easier for Scoggins."
I blinked a little with my free eye.
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—sothatcounted 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!
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.
And, by Jove, it seemed to me heoughttofeelembarrassed, for the very rummest thing yet was this crazy infatuation for this infernal chauffeur. It was pitiful—oh, disgusting, if you askme—and the more so because it was something she did not share. Iknewshe 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.Thiswas 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!
Didn't know, dash it, how much Iwasworth 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.
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;thisman 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,clever, you know.
"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 werereallybusy, 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 fromLa Juivethat I almost knew by heart:
"Qu'il, l'apprenne de vous?Hélas, je vous implore, bénissez mon époux—"
"Qu'il, l'apprenne de vous?Hélas, je vous implore, bénissez mon époux—"
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.
"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—"
But I stopped him—couldn't let him go on, of course: "Oh, I say, you know! Not another word, mydearJudge—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!"
He stared. "Indeed, no—I see you are not!" he said warmly.
I drew a light a bit airily. "Of course," I puffed, "whatyouare 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—"
"Lightnut!" He caught me by the arms, his face reddened almost black. "Mydearboy, ten thousand pardons! I assure you—"
"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—"
"Sothat'sit!" He relaxed with a deep breath. Then quietly: "My dear boy, you make me ashamed of myself—Iwasrude!" And he shook my hand. "Yes, indeed—you just go right ahead; almost anything is preferable to the vicious life Francis is leading—anything!" 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—IknowScoggins would be!"
Scoggins again—always Scoggins!DashScoggins! Of course he would be discouraged, but I should not. Devilish simple reason, you know—wouldn't believe it, by Jove!
"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."
Miss Kirkland! I recalled now that that was the name of the girl from China. By Jove,Ipreferred to think of her as the frump!
"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."
Oh,wasn'tshe! By Jove, I wondered what he would think if he had heard our conversation in the hall! But it wasn't formeto tell him he was warming a what's-its-name to his bosom, so I just mumbled a reply.
"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."
Oh,wasshe! 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!
He seemed surprised. "Don't you think so?" he insisted.
"Well, I ratherdon't, 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.
He stared, jammed his hands deep in his pockets and bent toward me. "Now, look here, my boy,doyou 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, youarehopeless then—utterly hopeless!" and dash it, he just groaned!
"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."
"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."
"Oh,damnFran—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,never!"
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.
"I knowhefeels you have already concerned yourself enough about Francis," he said deliberately. "The other night at your rooms—er,youknow! Jack is so particular in those little things. Ah, there's a model for you!"
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!
"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 toscandal—well, I have yet to hear the slightest breath—"
A sharp knock cut in abruptly.
"Come in!" And he swung the door open.
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.
Shewasn'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.
"Why, Miss Warfield," he began, "what—"
"Judge Billings!" she exploded. And, by Jove, it was like the blast from a mighty bellows! "It's about Mr. Jack!"
The judge's face flushed apprehensively.
"Jack—about Jack?" he repeated. "Is he—er—worse?"
"Worse?" 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.
"Youtell him!" she snapped sharply.
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.
"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!"
"Yes, sir." Wilkes coughed acquiescence, but shot a glance, half-reproachful, half-apprehensive, at the housekeeper.
She straightened, bristlingly.
"Areyou going to tell him or not—and you a man?—or will you put it on me?" And she began to inflate again.
The poor devil took the plunge:
"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!"
"Wh-a-a-t?"
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.
"It's Flora, sir," he uttered faintly.
"Flora?"
"Yes, sir." And Wilkes quailed before the judge's brows.
Miss Warfield sniffed.
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.
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!"
"All right," said the judge with a sort of bland ugliness, "then that's settled—yougo! That is, unless you can get right down to brass tacks this instant and say what you've got to say."
And, black as thunder, the old boy laid his hand upon the knob. By Jove, it did me good to see her crinkle up!
"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 theyalwaysdo! "Such talk, sir! Inever—" 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.
The judge, with head down, glared at her through his glasses.
"Talk?That'snothing!"—he uttered a snort. "Why, hang it, madam, he'sdrunk! Can't you have a little Christian charity and put yourself in his place? The poor boy doesn't know what he's saying!"
She looked up with a head jerk. "That'sit—that's just what makes it so awful," she sniveled; "the revelations, you know!"
"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?"
Wilkes rubbed his neck. "Well, sir, tomythinking, it ain't so much what he's said that's queer—leastwise, it wasn't at first—as what hedid. First off, there was his stalling about taking his bath, which wason-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;no, 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,lowerman 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 amfibbysomething—Well, anyhow, he said he never used waterex-ternally."
A penetrating moan from the handkerchief startled us.
"Then—then he never uses it at—at all!" came in a muffled wail.
The judge's teeth glittered at her in one united row; then he jerked a nod to Wilkes. "Go on!" he commanded shortly.
But the butler was glooming sullenly at the fiery head that topped the bundle of black.
"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."
"His own way—um—well?"
"And when Perkins brought it, he poured it down his neck—yes, sir, every drop—"
The master cut in irritably: "His neck—confound it, man, tell your story without slang—or leave off! You know I detest—"
"Notslang, sir"—hastily—"his neck—outside, I mean—"
"Oh, stuff!"—incredulously—"mean to tell me—"
"Hedid, 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 infront, you know!' And he turned on Perkins with a scowl something awful, and his langwige—well, it wasn't langwige atall! Perkins thought—" He paused.
"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?"
"Oh, dash it, yes—that'sall!" I said offhand—just took a chance, don't you know!
"Um!" He blinked at me; then faced square about. "I guess I'd better go up; perhaps when he sees me—"
He halted, leveling a stern glance at Wilkes.
"What the dev—what are you grinning about?" he rasped.
"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."
I felt myself get devilish red, then pale, for the judge's eyes were on me.
"Yes," he muttered, still looking at me, "hewastelling me something the other day about some silk pajamas."
And then I knew heknew!
"Yes, sir," continued Wilkes, "when I got back withyourmessage, 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,'hecalled it—and offered to pass 'em out."
"Poor fellow—poorfellow!"—and the judge looked pitiful—"well, why didn't you humor him?"
"I—I don't know, sir!" The butler looked embarrassed. "And, anyhow, it was just then Mrs. Warfield came, and he tried to get—"
"Oo-o-o-o!" from the black bundle.
"And then—" Wilkes hesitated, looking uneasy.
"Goon, man!"
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 somepins;'—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.
The bundle erected itself. "His 'wildFlora,' was what he said," Miss Warfield corrected sharply; "he said he wanted to embrace—"
"Press," Wilkes corrected in turn.
She inflated with one drive of the piston. "If there's any difference,Idon't know it!" came in a blow-out. And, dash me, if I believe shedid. She looked it, by Jove!
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!
This seemed to brighten her. "Wanted topresshis 'wild Flora'—his very words!" her voice rasped.
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.
"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—youcan'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!"
And, by Jove, she was off the road!
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:
"A woman?" His cheeks blew out like little red balloons. "Well, dammit, madam, what are you—aren'tyou a woman?"—hands on hips he just howled it at her—"what do youthinkyou are?"
For an instant she quailed before him like the stricken what-you-call-it—butonlyfor 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!
"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!"
The butler's sullen eye-droop admitted it.
"Huh!" And she tossed her head back with a nasty smile.
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!
"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.
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.
"I say, you know!" I said, screwing my monocle down on her. "Too devilish bad you've got yourself in such a pickle—"
"Mein a pickle?" she snorted. "Huh!"—and her ropy neck went up again, but I struck first:
"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!"
"Who says so?" she tried to bridle.
"Ido!" 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—Idon't know, you know!"—I shrugged carelessly. "Butheknows—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."
"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.
"Pardon, sir," he said, looking at me oddly, "but there's a caller waiting, and he was so urgent and particular, I came—"
"Card!" I suggested, extending a couple of fingers.
Jenkins looked shocked and his arms remained rigidly down.
"Oh," I said, polishing my glass, "the gentleman—is he one of my—"
"It ain't a gentleman, sir,"—Jenkins got it out with difficulty; "it's only just—er—a person!"
"Eh? Oh, I say, now, Jenkins!" I protested.
"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—youknow!"
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.
"Oh, sir!" she tremuloed, "Please—please—"
"Eh?" I said in alarm and stepping back, for, dash it,Ididn't know what she wanted; and for a moment I had an awful thought she wanted me to—youknow! But the next second, I had her right.
"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!"
And, by Jove, I got past just in time to keep her from catching my hand and wringing herself over it.
"What the deuce—" I began outside, as Jenkins steered me toward theporte-cochère.
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!
Then, behind his hand: "It's about the pajamas, sir!"
"Eh?" I gasped, falling back.
He stooped after me and his breath tickled my ear:
"Hers, sir!Youknow, that night—h'm!"
"Oh!" I said faintly. And this time hedidcatch my arm, and I was devilish glad, by Jove!
Outside, swinging his club and kicking his heel in the macadam, I found a fat policeman—from New York, I knew by his helmet.
He turned and I saw—O'Keefe!
"Oh, there you are, sir!" And with a careless duck and a wave, he ambled forward and placed in my hands a parcel.
"It's them, all right!" he said with a fat wink. "The black silk pajamas—we got 'em, you see!"
"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!
"Oh, I say, Jenkins," I remarked, twisting my glass at him, "by Jove, you know—eh?"
"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins admitted calmly. "I knew in a minute soon as he told me!"
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!
"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 theporte-cochèreand 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—thank you, sir!" For out of my folder I peeled five crisp centuries and laid them in his palm.
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.
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,youknow!"—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, Iwasn'tanxious, 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.
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.
Then he faced us with an air of increased cheerfulness.
"So much all for the velvet!" he remarked with another wink.
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.
"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—eh, what?"—he stared at Jenkins blankly, for Jenkins had coughed—"Oh, excuseme!"—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 wentallover 'em!"
"Oh!" 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 pickmeup, too, I was that shocked and prostrated!
"Theonlything—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."
"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 knewhewas suffering too! But wemusttry to stand it a little longer—just a little!
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:
"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—intentional." His eyes sought mine inquiringly.
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 wasawful!
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—
"Um—ah, I see! Itwas, 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 whatIthought and told 'em!" he bobbed with satisfaction. "Iunderstand! You ain't got no need to make no explanations tome!" 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,Iknow!"
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 thatshewas—but oh, itcouldn'tbe! And yet I recalled ominously that most of the time I had known her, I had only seen her sitting!
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!
"Why, thanks!" His fingers only removed three cigars, but I just made him take them all!Oh, yes, for the case wouldhaveto be refilled now, anyhow, dash it!
"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—aleetleirregular, you know," he shook his head at me, "but, as the captain said, we ain't making no point about that with a gent likeyou—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."
"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.
"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!"
"Oh,that!" 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?"
"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!"
"By Jove, you know!" I exclaimed, startled.
"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—well!"—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—hisclub—" the big fellow doubled over in a spasm of mirth that all but choked him. "I told him I'dgivehim 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 occasionand the other, 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—forhim! And there he'll stay a while!"
He had to pause and pump air, he was so winded.
"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.
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!
"But itwouldertickled 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; hisfriends, he said! Oh, yes, he mentionedyouin particular, sir!"—and his face expanded in a relishing grin.
"Dashed impudence!" I murmured feebly.
"Oh, yes," carelessly, "but the sarge quieted him—just purty near soothed him to sleep before he gotthrough, you know—it's one of his ways!"—his glance lifted solemnly.
"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.
"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."
"Oh!" I said uneasily. "But isn't he—er—rather dangerous?"
"Naw!" A careless but vigorous head shake. "Onlyin his sleep, you know—it's his dreams leads him off—orunless some one touches or crowds him; then he gets peevish and—oh, well hemight, 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.
By Jove, I was sure the housekeeper would have chucked it by now, or else worked herself up into a swoon! Why,myjolly 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.
"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.
"Oh, dash it, no!" I responded absently.
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.
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—asman 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.
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—
"By Jove, her figure exactly!" I ejaculated, staring.
For itwasher—no, dash it,she, 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!
"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.
"The one lovely woman in all the world!" I breathed aloud, and I felt my eyes grow oddly moist.
And for a minute I went off in a jolly trance.
"Good-by, sir!"
It was O'Keefe's voice—oddly constrained.
"Eh?" I ejaculated, blinking at him as I came back. Then I remembered—but what was it he had been asking? Something—
"Just, good-by!" he repeated with elaborated gentleness. Then, straightening: "Nooffense, I hope, if we let it go at that—I mean, I guess you won't miss it if wedon'tshake hands?"
I glanced at the gloves he was drawing on.
"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.
"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.
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'thelpthat—that's Nature—I'm some that way myself, though nothing likesomuch, and nothing like so heavy as I was. We'll leave that part out of it—I'mwilling—but,gentlemen"—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.
His helmet tossed as he looked back. "I guess weall've got our little prejudices," he remarked sententiously; "I knowIhave! I'm from the South!"
And without another word, Mr. O'Keefe presented his broad back to us, and swinging his stick carelessly, sauntered down the drive.
"What the deuce!" I exclaimed, looking after him. "I say, Jenkins, what did he mean?"
Jenkins' face expressed mild reproach and surprise.
"Can it possibly matter, sir?" he questioned wearily. "Persons of—er—that sort, you know, sir?"
"Jove!" I uttered, relieved.
Jenkins' coldly elevated brows dismissed the matter from further consideration. He lifted the parcel with a slight gesture of inquiry.
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!
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."
"Certainly, sir," said Jenkins attentively. "I'm just to say: 'Mr. Lightnut's compliments, sir, and he saysyou'llknow what to do with these.'"
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.
Hedidhurry! By Jove, he was back almost immediately and looking a bit rattled.
"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."
"Oh!" I uttered nervously. "Er, what did he say, Jenkins?"
Jenkins sighed. "Oh, well, sir, nothing as you might say was anything,really; he jerks out kinder crossly: 'Tell Mr. Lightnut, I say one thing at a time, and give him this!'"
On the scrap of paper I clutched out of Jenkins' hand was a crazy scrawl of just a half-dozen words:
I'm a biped, not a centipede!
I squinted through the dashed thing twice, but could make nothing of it—I even tried it backward!
"Jove!" I muttered perplexedly. "It's rum, Jenkins!"
Jenkins' mouth tightened and relaxed. "H'm, whatIthought, sir," he responded soberly. "The demon rum, sir!"