The Haunted Pajamas Part 33

But a devilish queer look had come into Billings' face. He nodded, gathered the pajamas into the professor's arms and patted him on the shoulder in a way I thought offensively familiar.

"You've got it, Professor!" he said, grinning.

Then he whispered to me aside:

"Not a word, d.i.c.ky--great Scott!" But he needn't have said that, even if I had been mind-reader enough to guess what word he meant. It was about all I could do to get out a last word to the professor as he went out the door:

"'Night!"

CHAPTER XX

BILLINGS RAMBLES

Ten minutes later I was almost wide awake, for Billings was talking over long distance--and to _her_!

But I did not like the way he did it.

"Shut up, Francis!" he bellowed. "Now you listen to what I'm telling you--and do _just_ as I tell you to, too--if you don't, I'll mash your face when I come up there! You hear?"

And he swore at her--yes, by Jove, _swore_!

"Oh, here--I say now!" I remonstrated indignantly.

"It's all right, d.i.c.ky," and he waved his fat hand indifferently as he hung up the receiver. "Francis wants to drive that car down for us in the morning--Francis, now!" And his hands went out impressively.

And dash it, I _was_ impressed--I was delighted.

"By Jove!" I cried. "Fine!" For I knew by that that she had forgiven me.

"Fine!" snorted Billings. "You don't know what you're talking about!

Francis hasn't got sense enough to get a road engine ten feet without smas.h.i.+ng it, much less a car twenty-five miles."

"Oh, look here!" I growled protestingly, "I don't like to hear you talking about--er--Frances that way."

Billings grunted and bit a cigar savagely without stopping to clip it.

He pulled fiercely at it a moment.

"Kind of you, old chap," he exclaimed, "but you don't know our family as _I_ do. If Francis has got a headache _now_, I know that by morning--"

"Headache?" I cried in dismay.

He nodded. "So I understood over the 'phone--been getting at the governor's private stock, I'd bet all I've got." He shook his head gloomily. "No, sir; that car cost five thousand, and when you can't trust people sober, how are you going to trust them drunk?"

I sighed as I remembered the half pint of whisky she had taken--but, dash it, I didn't care! It somehow didn't seem to make any difference in my loving her. The only thing important, really, in the matter of the car was that she might hurt herself. Billings didn't seem to think of that. And yet, by Jove, she _wanted_ to come! She _must_!

"See here," I said coaxingly, for Billings seemed to have gone off in a moody, brown study, "you must remember, old chap, your sister has been cooped up there in Radcliffe for months. Why not let her have the run down to the city and back? It will do her good, you know."

"Of course," he said absently. "She's going to drive the car down."

"Eh--what say?" I was sure I had not heard aright.

"I say she's going to bring the car down--my chauffeur's sick, it seems."

I didn't wonder at that, but I _did_ wonder at his sudden change.

"Then you're not afraid--"

"Afraid? I should say not! She can drive better than I can--better than anybody in Westchester County!"

"I see--I see!" I said in a low voice. And I _did_ see, poor fellow! By Jove, my spirits sank to zero.

"Yes, _there's_ somebody you can always rely on!" he enthused under his changing mood. "Good thing in this blankety world there's _somebody_ you can rely on--among women, I mean. There's a girl with a purpose in life--yes, sir! Never dances, plays bridge, nor uses slang--no, sir! And what's more, in this cursed age, she's one woman who can go through life and say she never touched a cigarette or a c.o.c.ktail."

"Of course--of course!" I agreed soothingly. By Jove, it was a devilish sight better to have him talk this way about her. I wouldn't antagonize anything he might say now. And I had turned his mind just by a simple hint--the power of suggestion, you know. Just as I had myself forgotten I was sleepy.

"Of course, you never have met my sister, have you?" he puffed. "I mean the one that's been up at Radcliffe."

"Oh, _never_!" I said promptly.

"You will in the morning," said Billings, flicking his ash. "Not much to look at--I mean not what you would call handsome--"

I interrupted. "Oh, but I say," I exclaimed unguardedly, "how can you say that? I think she's just beautiful."

"Eh?" He stared so hard I was afraid I had got his mind off again.

"Thought you said you had never met her."

"No, no, I never did," I stammered. "Mistake, you know."

He went on musingly: "But I understand that her room-mate--who has come home with her, by the way--is a peach. English girl, you know. They tell me Francis is crazy about her beauty."

Dashed if I could see how she could be, for, by Jove, I had seen her myself. It was the frump! Peach? She was a _fright_!

Here Billings' eyes hung on the ceiling as though he would bore through it.

"Say, do you know"--he dropped his voice, still looking up--"I hope the old gazabe up there won't get wise to those rubies. Awfully careless of us--forgot all about them. By George, I've half a mind to go up there and get the pajamas back."

"Oh, dash it, no!" I protested, for I was getting sleepy again. "It's the silk the old fellow was interested in; he wants to examine it--try some experiments--something. He'll never think of the jolly rubies, you know."

Billings looked at me oddly. "That's so," he agreed. "Still, I know I won't sleep, thinking about those rubies." Then he looked up at the ceiling again and muttered: "Wonder if the old boy _will_ have any visitors to-night?"

I yawned. I knew it wasn't likely--not with _him_!

Billings rose. "Well, I'll get along over to the club, old chap. Now mind, the car will call for you about nine. Then you are to pick me up--that is, unless I should come over here. And, oh, say, d.i.c.ky!" He turned back from the door where Jenkins waited with his hat and cane.

"Speaking of pajamas--er--what do you think of black ones--eh?"