The Haunted Pajamas

"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, "but you may 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 finds you are in deadly earnest, why it – " His voice dropped off musingly: "Well, I believe that would 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 – so that counted for nothing. Fact was, it just seemed to me like there was something in the air – everybody seemed so queer – well, jolly muddled, I should call it! Idea had been gradually coming to me that I was the only one who appeared to have any clear understanding of things; and somehow the realization just made me devilish nervous – the responsibility, don't you know!

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 he ought to feel embarrassed, for the very rummest thing yet was this crazy infatuation for this infernal chauffeur. It was pitiful – oh, disgusting, if you ask me– and the more so because it was something she did not share. I knew she didn't, you know! No, it was plain enough, dash it, that between her father and this mucker of a chauffeur, my poor darling was being crowded to the what's-its-name. This was what she had meant – had hinted at – and, by Jove, I was ready to wager anything on it; eager to put up all I was worth, you know!

Didn't know, dash it, how much I was worth Went down in Wall Street one day and asked old Morley, my man of affairs, but forgot what he said. Never could remember afterward whether it was one million or ten and always hated to ask again.

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; this man just kept him supplied with money, and once in a while he scrawled his name on something – all he had to do. Devilish simple, you see, but then Pugsley is so ingenious, so – oh, 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 were really busy, so I might slip out without danger of offending him! But I was afraid to chance it – did so want to rub him right, don't you know, on account of Frances. Knew he was still feeling a bit plucked over his slip of the tongue – showed plainly he was bothered, you know; you could tell by his puckered brows and the way he kept clearing his throat. So meantime, knowing that the best thing was to appear unconscious – just give him time, you know – I fell carelessly to jingling some coins in my pocket and tapping my foot upon the hardwood, as I hummed a devilish neat little air from La Juive that I almost knew by heart:

"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, my dear Judge – I don't care a jolly hang, dash it!" And to show him, I smiled, got out a cigarette, and perched kind of sidewise on the edge of the table. "I'm not a bit sensitive, don't you know!"

He stared. "Indeed, no – I see you are not!" he said warmly.

I drew a light a bit airily. "Of course," I puffed, "what you are thinking of is your servant, but I" – I shot him a light wink – "I've got to think a little about my own affair, don't you – "

"Lightnut!" He caught me by the arms, his face reddened almost black. "My dear boy, 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 – "

"So that's it!" He relaxed with a deep breath. Then quietly: "My dear boy, you make me ashamed of myself – I was rude!" 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 – I know Scoggins would be!"

Scoggins again – always Scoggins! Dash Scoggins! 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, I preferred 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't she! By Jove, I wondered what he would think if he had heard our conversation in the hall! But it wasn't for me to 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, was she! Not if I knew anything about it, and I had seen three seasons in London. By Jove, I was so terribly shocked I could just feel it in my face!

He seemed surprised. "Don't you think so?" he insisted.

"Well, I rather don'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, do you mean to say you don't think Miss Kirkland a beautiful and winning girl?" – I guess he did see I meant it, for he slowly emitted an expressive whistle – "Well, you are hopeless 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, damn Fran – h'm – I mean Francis will keep!" He caught himself hastily before the stare of my glass, fumbling with the papers to cover his confusion. Then he clapped me on the shoulder, pressing me again toward the door. "You just go ahead and do whatever you can with Francis, yourself – you are my only hope! Or wait, and I'll prepare the way for you to-night – that's it; that's best!" – and he went to nodding. Then he halted my progress and eyed me intently. "There's another thing: " – his voice dropped – "I think it's just as well Jack shouldn't know of your intentions about Francis; he would never approve – oh, 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 know he feels you have already concerned yourself enough about Francis," he said deliberately. "The other night at your rooms – er, you know! 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 to scandal– well, I have yet to hear the slightest breath – "

A sharp knock cut in abruptly.

"Come in!" And he swung the door open.

CHAPTER XXVI

FLORA

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.

She wasn't pale! No, by Jove, she was fiery red, even to her hair; and red, too, the anvil sparks that were snapping from her eyes. She marched right in, followed by Wilkes, who carefully closed the door – then stood discreetly aloof. Pantingly, she faced the judge, who was staring at her in amazement.

"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.

"You tell 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.

"Are you 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 —you go! 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 they always do! "Such talk, sir! I never– " 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's nothing!" – he uttered a snort. "Why, hang it, madam, he's drunk! 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's it– 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, to my thinking, it ain't so much what he's said that's queer – leastwise, it wasn't at first – as what he did. First off, there was his stalling about taking his bath, which was on-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, lower man was what he said – the lower man being an – an" – Wilkes' brows contracted as he strained for it – "an am – h'm – funny I can't remember that word – a amfibby something – Well, anyhow, he said he never used water ex-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 – "

"Not slang, sir" – hastily – "his neck – outside, I mean – "

"Oh, stuff!" – incredulously – "mean to tell me – "

"He did, sir – I'll swear it!" The butler was respectful, but firm as the rock of what's-its-name. "Perkins tried to stop him and says: 'Wait a minute, Mr. Jack – you're making a mistake – it ain't 'round there; it's in front, you know!' And he turned on Perkins with a scowl something awful, and his langwige – well, it wasn't langwige at all! 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's all!" 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, "he was telling me something the other day about some silk pajamas."

And then I knew he knew!

"Yes, sir," continued Wilkes, "when I got back with your message, Mr. Lightnut, he seemed to get more excited about them – about pajamas, I mean. He talked to me and Perkins through the door crack and wanted one of us to put 'em on – 'in the interests of science,' he called it – and offered to pass 'em out."

"Poor fellow —poor fellow!" – 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.

"Go on, 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 some pins;' – 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 'wild Flora,' 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, I don't know it!" came in a blow-out. And, dash me, if I believe she did. 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 to press his '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 —you can't treat Flora that way!' And if you could have seen the way he flew to pieces! 'Why can't I?' he yelled at me. 'Do you think I haven't done it before?' Exactly what he said and I could hardly believe my ears; and then" – here she began to wabble and the handkerchief came up – "then he – he called me a wo-woman!"

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't you a woman?" – hands on hips he just howled it at her – "what do you think you are?"

For an instant she quailed before him like the stricken what-you-call-it – but only for an instant! Then her long neck coiled back and her eyes glittered beady and snake-like; I heard a sort of rattle in her throat, and then, of course, I knew she was going to strike – and she did!

"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 – "

"Me in 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.

"I do!" I said, boring her steadily. "Witness, you know! So is Wilkes – both of us – to whatever dashed thing it is the judge decides you've done —I don't know, you know!" – I shrugged carelessly. "But he knows – he's a lawyer – and of course he'll explain it to Wilkes and me as witnesses. That's what witnesses are for, don't you know! Better go to your room and await arrest quietly."

"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 —you know!"

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– "