The Haunted Pajamas

"Good night, sir," he said with a sickly, feeble smile, "I hope you'll sleep well; and – " he coughed faintly – "and – er – wake up – h'm – all right!"

"Frisky as a – " I bunched my head sleepily into the pillow – "as a jolly – " But the idea wouldn't come!

"Night!" I murmured; and let it go at that!

CHAPTER XXXI

THE DEMON RUM

I didn't feel frisky when I awoke!

No, dash it, I had a devilish headache and my mouth had that gummy, warm-varnish taste —you know! The sunlight lay across the floor, and outside I could hear the jolly birds twittering among their what's-its-names. Jenkins stood by the foot of the bed and somehow had a gloomy look. He cleared his throat, and I had a feeling that he had already done it several times. I raised to my elbow, mouthing at him heavily.

"Morning, sir!" He said it very gently – I thought solicitously. "How do you feel, sir?" This last in the kind of tone you use when the chap's going to die to-morrow, don't you know, and doesn't know it yet himself.

I mumbled reply, gulping down the glass of ice-water he tendered.

He rubbed his hands one over the other and stooped above me anxiously.

"I hope, sir, you're not in much pain – from last night, sir, I mean?"

"Pain?" I ejaculated crossly. "Why should I be in pain? Don't be a silly ass!"

"Yes, sir!" – very softly, and with a deep sigh as he dropped back. By Jove, he looked as cheerful as a jolly tombstone!

"What the deuce – " I began.

"Noth – nothing, sir!" – hastily – "I was just a-thinking of the – h'm – may I say scrimmage, sir?"

I waited till I had taken from his hand the second glass of ice-water and swallowed it, thinking maybe I would get hold of it – the dashed idea, I mean.

I batted at him perplexedly.

"What was that? Scrimmage? I don't remember hearing anything —what's that?"

And I reached for another glass.

"Pardon, sir – " Jenkins' eye shifted unhappily; "but may I ask, sir, what is the last thing you do remember?"

"Eh?"

I sat up a bit straighter, rubbing my head and devilish annoyed at being made to try to think at all. Then I remembered: We were in a jolly blue aëroplane drawn by golden humming-birds and she was just telling me —no, dash it, that was a dream – just a dashed dream! I groaned, dropping my head upon my knees. "Why, the last thing I remember was the punch – punch – "

"Punch – yes, sir!" And Jenkins sighed.

"Your punch to put out the light," I finished. Then I looked at him, startled. "Oh, I say, now, it wasn't burglars, was it?"

You see, I thought at once of Foxy Grandpa and my darling's pajamas.

"Not precisely, sir." Jenkins hesitated; then moved a little nearer. "I – I hope you'll pardon me, Mr. Lightnut, sir; but I can't help a feeling that you ought to know everything before – h'm – I was going to say, sir, before you see the family. I hope you'll pardon me, sir!" – he heaved desperately – "I mean about all that happened last night."

I stared. "Oh, I say, Jenkins," I said, with an anxious thought, "you didn't – er —you know – I mean you and Wilkes didn't drink the rest of the punch – after he took it away, you know – eh?"

"Me?" Jenkins' hand clutched the heavy brass curve at the foot of the bed. "No, sir!" – and he added sadly: "Besides, sir, there wasn't any rest of it! Mr. Wil – I mean Wilkes, was a-commenting on it. That was how I come to find I didn't have any more of the blank pledges. So I just walked across the park to get some extra ones I had given the gardener, and he said I could have 'em all, if I'd just let him get a little sleep; and he chucked 'em all out of his window. Seemed irritated like because I woke him up. And then, sir, I don't know whether it was because of the splashing of the fountains, but I had an idea."

"That's nothing," I said contemptuously, "I often do at night when I hear water splashing. I often get up and get something."

Jenkins' face sobered. "I know it, sir – pardon, sir, I mean I frequently know you have – h'm – know by the glasses —you understand, sir!" Then he went on: "The idea that came to me was a great liberty – I know that, sir, and I'm sorry – but I guess I was thinking that about the end justifies —you know it, sir?"

I didn't know, but I did wish he would make an end!

"The library windows was open on the loggia, sir, and when I looked in, I didn't see anybody and I thought – " Jenkins coughed and looked devilish rattled – "thought I would just slip in and lay a few of the temperance pledges between the papers the judge had been working on." Jenkins reddened, looking at me in an appealing way.

"Jove!" I ejaculated, staring. "Oh, I say, now!"

"Yes, sir," – faintly – "I knew how you would feel – I ain't excusing myself, sir; and when I heard your voice I tried to get out, but there wasn't time, so I – " Jenkins touched his hands in front, then behind him, and shifted distressfully, "I – I hid behind the alcove curtains – h'm – and just then – "

"Here!" I broke in, "Wait, dash it! Whose voice did you hear?"

Jenkins' eyes ducked.

"Yours, sir," he said faintly. "And then you came in."

I stared, trying to take it in. Couldn't chirp a word, don't you know, for to think I had taken to sleep-walking – and here!

Jenkins proceeded rapidly: "You was cording a dressing-robe about you as you came in and I see a glimpse of one of your dark suits underneath. And following right behind you was that young Mr. Bi – h'm – pardon, sir, I remember you said I wasn't to mention any one connected with that ni – h'm! You know who I mean, sir?" – he paused anxiously – "Young man, sir – freckled face – and the big lot of" – his spreading fingers curved above his head – "awfully yellow hair – um, you know, sir?"

"Oh, that!" I said with contempt, for I knew he meant that mucker, Scoggins. Then incredulously: "Oh, I say, you don't mean I was talking to him? And asleep?"

Jenkins eyed me reproachfully. "Not asleep, sir," he remonstrated gently.

"But I tell you – "

"Mr. Lightnut, sir, it was the punch!" He shook his head. "If you'll excuse me for mentioning – "

"Oh!" I remarked weakly, falling back upon my pillow. "Jove, Jenkins!" And I just looked at him stupidly – fact!

Jenkins stroked his chin, his eyes fixed somberly above my head. "The demon rum, sir," he said slowly, and using the deep, heavy chest tones like the high-up politicians and expensive lecturers, "is rampant in our fair land – that's what I heard Doctor Splasher remark – and the insid'jus monster is slowly – "

And he went on, but I didn't hear. I was trying to think. So I hadn't been sleep-walking, but had been just plain drunk – and in her home! – so jolly well corked, in fact, I hadn't even a dashed glimmer of memory of it. Had been making a spectacle of myself, going all about the house in the wee what-you-call-'em hours of the night and probably – oh, good heavens, probably singing!

I dropped my head back upon the pillow.

"Go on," I said. "Tell me all!"

"Yes, sir," resumed Jenkins, "as I was saying, you came in with —you know – er – the young fellow. He kinder slouched in, looking a bit sulky.

"'I've been watching for you to get back from the dog-fight,' you says to him; 'sit down, I want to talk to you.' But the young fellow just stood square in the middle of the floor and just kinder scowled black.

"Then you says, pleasant-like: 'I've been talking with a friend of yours, my son, who thinks I haven't treated you quite fair.'

"'O!' says this young fellow, and seems kinder surprised. Then he got red.

"'And so, my boy,' you went on, tightening your glass as you looked at him, 'if I've been harsh I'm sorry – suppose we start all over again – what do you say? I don't want to cross you in anything if I can help it – I want to help you.'"

My abrupt ejaculation halted Jenkins an instant, then he proceeded:

"'I say, do you mean that?' asks young Mr. Bi – I mean, this young fellow" – Jenkins stirred nervously – "and you says, kinder laughing: 'there's my hand on it!' and then you both shook.

"'One minute,' says the boy, still looking kinder puzzled and uncertain, 'I want to know what about Frances. How do we stand about that?'

"You just laughed sorter and went up and clapped him right on the shoulder and you says: 'Why, if you can, my son, just go in and win her. I don't care!' – and you said it hearty-like. You went on: 'I haven't a word to say – in fact, I'd be only too glad to see you succeed.'"

Here I straightened with almost a screech:

"What? I said that? Oh, now, Jenkins, you – oh, you're mistaken!"

Jenkins eyed me sorrowfully.

"Your words, sir, exactly, and then you went on, kinder persuadingly: 'Why, I haven't meant to stand in your way at all!'"

I groaned.

"Go on!" I breathed through my teeth. Then I straightened forward. "What did the judge call that punch – what kind?"

"Heidelberg punch, sir," – a sympathetic pause as I swept my hand through my hair. "Yes, sir, it certainly must be something high – oh, awful, sir!"

He went on as I dipped my head at him. "Then this young chap catches you by the hand and he says, 'Why, you're a brick, after all!' And you says: 'Yes, we'll get along better now, my boy, and you want to be mighty grateful to Dicky Lightnut for it.' And this young fellow says, kinder smiling: 'Indeed, I am!' And then him and you just shook hands again all over."

Jenkins stopped for breath, but I didn't say a word. By Jove, it all made me a bit sick, don't you know. Oh, I must have been maudlin, that's what —maudlin. I managed to wag my head to start him off again; couldn't speak, you know!

"Yes, sir. Then you says: 'That's all right, now, my boy; so you run along, because I'm awfully busy. To-morrow we'll talk some more.'

"'Bully!' says the chap. 'Good night, old man!' Then he turns back, kinder smiling sidewise. 'It's sure on the level, is it, that you're going to let me have a clear road with Frances?'

"'Oh, bother Frances!' you says laughing. 'Yes, yes, and when you win her, she'll be to me as my own girl. And I know I'll have her love, too.'

"'What's that?' says the young fellow, kinder frowning. And you says, easy-like, 'Why, we'll just be one happy family.' Then you chuckled like you was mighty pleased and says: 'And I think she is learning to like me pretty well already. Why, do you know what she did to-night? She came right up to me and in the sweetest way kissed me good night.'"

"Oh!" I said, digging my fingers into the bedclothes, "Oh!"

"Yes, sir!" said Jenkins chokily. He went on: "This young fellow just marches right close up to you and says, speaking kinder quiet and his eyes shining, 'You say Frances kissed you?' And you sorter gave a laugh and dug him in the side and you says, 'I do believe the boy is jealous! Why, yes, you rascal, she certainly did – she kissed me!'

"'Well, it's a lie!' he says back, pointing at you with his finger. 'Because it ain't like her.' And he got closer.

"'See here,' he says, 'have you just been trying to get gay with me to-night? Huh! – well, I'm just going to box your jaws for luck!'

"'What?' you gasps – 'what's that?' – and you storms up to him – 'Why, you young puppy, do you know who you're talking to?' you says.

"'Bah!' he says, and he just goes up and snaps his fingers in your face. You chokes kinder, and then you yells at him: 'Why, you young ruffian, I've spanked you before, and I can do it again – '

"'Yah!' he says, making faces at you. 'You spanked! You hit me when I wasn't looking. My foot slipped.'

"'Foot slipped, you blanked fool!' you shouts at him, and then – " Jenkins wiped his forehead – "Then the next thing I see, you mixed."

"Ah!" I breathed with relief. "That's better!"

I chuckled. Then suddenly I felt remorseful.

"Where did I hit him this time, Jenkins – did you notice? Was he hurt much?"

Jenkins looked down, avoiding my eyes. "Um, not exactly, sir," he said; "in fact, it was – er – kinder the other way."

I stared, aghast.

"You don't mean, Jenkins – "

Jenkins evidently did! His eyes expressed both pity and embarrassment.

"What he did to you," – he rolled his glance upward, trying to shape the idea – "I believe, sir, it's what you might call" – his voice dropped – "I believe it's what they do call wiping up the floor with."

I closed my eyes an instant.

"Finish!" I whispered, feebly flipping my hand at him.

"He left then, sir, but the noise brought Wilkes and we helped you up-stairs. You wouldn't go any farther than the door of the judge's bedroom – wanted to tell him, we supposed. When we got that far, I noticed Mr. Jack Billings' door – it's right opposite, you remember, sir – was standing just a little open. He called out very anxious and shrill: 'Oh, do be very careful of the pajamas! My! my! I hope the pajamas are not hurt!'

"And at that, you just bangs inside the judge's room and in about two minutes, he stuck his head out, looking kinder towsled and mad like he'd been waked from a sound sleep, and he fires a wrapped-up parcel at the door opposite and yells:

"'There are your pajamas, you unnatural, heartless prodigal! Pajamas, indeed, at such a time!' And then I see Mr. Jack's arm come out and fish the package inside.

"Then the judge turns on me and Wilkes and ordered us to clear out and to go to bed. And Wilkes said we'd best do it because the judge would take care of you and get you to your room quietly. And the last thing I heard before he slammed inside his room was:

"'There's one thing; I've got a daughter!'"

I looked at Jenkins miserably. He was right; he did have a daughter, and I wanted her. But just now, I wished with all heart that she was somebody's – anybody else's daughter – than that of the man who had witnessed my humiliation.

And afterwards —

How had he managed to get me to my room? And had she seen or heard me? Oh, she must have!

Well, nothing mattered now – nothing could ever matter any more. It was some miserable comfort to feel, and know, that nothing worse could ever happen!

Why, there was nothing worse left in all the world. By Jove, I was sure of that much!

And just then a knock sounded.

CHAPTER XXXII

I TOUCH BOTTOM

"Pardon, sir, for not waiting till you came down," the butler was saying, "but Mr. Billings was just so set on me bringing this to you, I had to."

He had entered, responding to Jenkins' invitation, bearing in his hand a gray paper parcel.

"For me?" I questioned, as he laid it on the table, and I eyed it ominously. Yet it could not be the same I had sent Billings myself – I could see that – for it was smaller, more compact, and in a different wrapper. But I was afraid to examine it.

"Yes, sir – he's very bad this morning, sir; the – er – that is, something last night seems to have excited him."

His eye roved eloquently between Jenkins and myself. He continued soberly:

"He's locked me and Perkins out of his rooms again, and wouldn't open the door only wide enough to stick this through. And his message" – hesitatingly – "he said just tell you you had better get these pajamas back where they came from just as quickly as you could – you would if you were wise, he said."

"Oh!" I uttered, dazed by this new blow. So it was her pajamas.

But there was more of the message – I could see it in Wilkes' eye.

"Yes, sir," he went on as I gave him a nod. "Mr. Billings called through the door-crack – and his voice was particularly shrill – screechy-like – very unnatural, sir – and he said: 'You tell him I say he'll find it very dangerous to keep them by him a moment; tell him my advice is to return them immediately!'"

Here the butler hesitated an instant and added: "And he said for me to try to remember three letters I was to mention – said you would understand."

"Three letters?" I repeated dully.

"Yes, sir, three letters – I did remember 'em, too, because they happened to be the initials of a young woman I – h'm! Q. E. D., sir."

"Q. E. D.?" I said, puzzled and miserable. "What's Q. E. D.?" And then an idea startled me.

"Oh I say, you mean – er – P. D. Q. – eh, Wilkes?" It sounded like Jack!

But he seemed sure he didn't; insisted on Q. E. D. When he had withdrawn, I sat there a moment, swallowing hard. By Jove, when a chap has had the hardest blow of his life, and that, too, from his best friend, it's devilish hard to come up smiling. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. I knew, of course, it was all over – everything; it was all over, just as everything was beginning with me. For I knew my life never had been worth a whoop before. Why, by Jove, I never even noticed how beautiful were the trees and the sunshine through the leaves until the last two days! But I had seen it, because she had seen it! And now – now it was all dull and flat and dead again, and all the world was gray! Ever been there – eh?

I climbed heavily to my feet, for I knew, after all, he was acting devilish considerately as he saw things, and I must just have the decency to do as he said – and then go. I couldn't explain, of course. Mustn't try to do that – so dashed clumsy, I would only complicate it for her. No, I – By Jove, I suddenly felt sick. Sat there, doubled forward, my head between my hands, as the butler retired, softly closing the door behind him.

Presently I pulled myself together. Jenkins, as he helped me dress, eyed me in a frightened way, his face kind of pale and greenish. Neither of us said a word, but I knew I had his sympathy, poor fellow – and it helped! Then, with the parcel in my hand, I marched slowly down the stairs, forgetting even some instructions I should have given Jenkins.

She was there in the living-room – she and the frump. And when I saw her dear face and realized what disaster had come between us, I felt things whirling around me like a jolly what's-its-name and dropped my hand on a chair-back hard, until I could stiffen and smile up. But, by Jove, she was on!

"Is anything the matter, Mr. Lightnut?" she asked, coming toward me – and how kindly, almost tenderly, her sweet face softened!

"Is it anything about Jacky?" snapped the frump.

I shook my head and just gently placed the little wrapped parcel in Frances' hands. My hand shook so I almost dropped it.

"Some – something of yours that was lost," I said, and I knew my voice shook a little, too. "I was fortunate in recovering it." I looked at her – for the last time, I knew – and it was just my devilish luck that she got misty and dim. I whispered hoarsely: "Open when you are alone."

And then I walked straight out of the house!

A gardener directed me to the park gates, but there were so many dashed curves and terraces I got hopelessly twisted, and pretty soon didn't know whether I was leaving or coming, don't you know. I sat down on an iron bench to think it over, and, by Jove, I must have dozed off, for the first thing I knew some one yelled my name, and I looked up to see – Billings!

He was looking a bit soiled and disheveled, and his eyes had a hunted look.

"What the devil are you doing, sitting here?" he demanded.

"I – I'm going," I said, hurriedly getting to my feet. "Just resting – I – "

"They told me I would find you here," he said. "Here you are, sitting out here in the hot sun without any hat! Good thing, Dicky, you haven't got any – h'm!" Then he panted at me: "Say, nice way you and my sister treated me – I don't think! But I'll forgive you this time." Here he linked his arm in mine. "I'll forgive you, if you never say anything at the club about those damned black pajamas – nor in the family, either. Great Scott! I wouldn't have this get out!"

"I wouldn't think of such a thing!" I exclaimed, immeasurably relieved, but indignant, as well. He led me across the turf.

"Oh, I've had an awful time, Dicky! Awful!" – he lifted his hands – "Oh, I don't want to tell you about it – I don't want even to think about it myself!"

I murmured something sympathetic, for I felt sympathetic with anything; besides, there still lingered a bit of headache from the Heidelberg punch and I could imagine from that what his feelings must have been.

"By George, Dicky," he burst out again, "the way I've been shut up and treated just seems like some infernal conspiracy. Good thing Jack Ellsworth's dad had a pull with the mayor – tell you all the whole rotten business when I can talk about it quietly."

"That's right! that's right!" I said soothingly, "wouldn't think about it at all now, old chap!" No use reminding him, you know, that he had shut himself up. Besides, the wandering of the mind to Jack Ellsworth and his father showed me that even yet he was not quite himself.

Billings mopped his forehead. "My, but it was hot in that hole!" he exclaimed. "And that reminds me – have you seen the governor this morning? No? Well, talk about hot! George, but the old man was hot under the collar when I saw him just now! And he looks like he had been dropped from a shot tower! It's this case he's working on, I guess, or else it's about Francis. He's found out what I knew."

"Do – do you think so?" I questioned nervously.

"Pretty sure," said Billings carelessly. "Fact is, he's already fixing up to send Francis to some kind of reformatory – heard him making the arrangements over the 'phone" – I was glad he didn't look at me as he rattled on – "and, by the way, the governor told me to tell you not to say a word to Francis – I suppose you'll understand."

Understand? Oh, yes, I understood!

"And he said he wanted to see you."

"Is – is he here?" I stammered, pulling back.

"Thank goodness, no. Gone to meet Colonel Francis Kirkland – say, don't say anything about it – wants to surprise his daughter, you know. On his way to London via San Francisco – arrived at Washington a few days ago."

Oh, the frump's father! Much I cared! But knowing how interested he was in her, I tried to show an interest.

"Colonel Francis – er – isn't his daughter named after him?" And I felt myself grow jolly red, for I remembered that she had told me that about her friend as she sat on the arm of the Morris chair and in the black pajamas.

"Hanged if I know," said Billings carelessly. "I don't know what her name is – don't remember that I ever heard." He whistled. "Say, but did you ever see anything as stunningly pretty in your life?"

I balked. By Jove, I had been doing some mild lying within the past twenty-four hours, but this was asking too much! Dash me if I just could go it, that's all. But he didn't seem to notice.

He slapped me on the back. "By George, Dicky, there's just the girl cut out for you, old chap – take my tip. I think she likes you, too – could see it just now when I was talking about you."

So that was it, I reflected gloomily. The frump now was to be worked off on me, and I was expected to stand for it. I was to be a sort of what-you-call-it offering on the altar of friendship. That was the condition upon which he was patching up things!

Billings laughed suddenly. "But, oh, I tell you it would be hard on Francis – a regular knockout, by George!"

Devilish brutal for him to say so, I thought.

"Do you think so?" I questioned dismally. "Would Frances really care?"

"Oh, yes," he said lightly. "Soon get over it, though – puppy love, you know."

Puppy love, indeed! By Jove, how I hated Billings!

He went on: "Suppose you never heard anything of the professor and the pajamas?"

I had not, and I was devilish sick of pajamas, anyway.

"And say, Dicky, I don't remember that I ever thanked you properly, old man, for putting up my kid brother the other night. He says you treated him like a brick and that you and he got to be great pals. So much obliged, old chap, because he wanted to go running around, you know."