The Haunted Pajamas Part 34

By Jove, I got red--could just feel it, you know!

"Ever see a suit of black silk pajamas?" Billings chuckled.

Now for it! "I--I--never did," I managed to get out.

"Never heard of any myself before," Billings gurgled. "But great idea, don't you think? Good thing, traveling--Pullmans, hotels--that sort of thing--eh? Just got them to-day--ordered two weeks ago."

By Jove, what a relief! I felt myself breathing again.

"Wish you would stay," I said, for I felt uneasy about him.

"Oh, no," carelessly; "all my traps are over there, you know." He smiled. "To say nothing of the new pajamas."

Standing in the door, he looked upward again, twirling his cane. His head shook dubiously.

"Could kick myself about those rubies," he grumbled. "Just half a mind to go up there--" He shrugged. "Oh, well, good night, old chap; see you in the morning."

I murmured some reply as I followed him without. Then I stood a moment looking down the shaft after he had descended.

"Hope he'll be all right in the morning," I mused. "And hope his infernal mood won't s.h.i.+ft round again as to Frances!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE COLLAPSE OF BILLINGS

"Are you _sure_, Mr. Lightnut?"

I stood, cap in hand, one foot on the sidewalk before the Kahoka, the other on the running-board of the car--a big double-tonneau red whale sort of affair. This was as far as I had been admitted to the vehicle.

For the frump was sitting there behind the steering wheel, looking down at me in a nasty, sidewise fas.h.i.+on. Ever have them do you that way?

Besides, I somehow felt that she had a feeling toward me as a man, an unvoiced protest against my existence at all. It found expression in her suspicious, sniffy manner. Dash it, I just hated that woman from the start! I felt it was bad enough, her English clumsiness in getting the introductions twisted as I advanced to meet the car, but now I was of half a mind that she had done it purposely. Could see with half an eye that she was determined to make trouble about yesterday.

"Haven't we met before, Mr. Lightnut?" she had asked.

But it struck me that Frances glanced at me with a kind of wistful light in her lovely eyes, and I saw that the game was to lie like a gentleman--that sort of thing, you know. And, by Jove, I was getting kind of used to it now, anyhow--I mean since I had broken the ice last night. Not hard at all, though, after a few goes--really!

So I stood out that I had never had the pleasure, you know--all that sort of polite rot. And all the time felt like a jolly cad, too, meeting a girl with that, when _she_ remembered! But, by Jove, it was worth sacrificing the frump fifty times over just to see Frances' face brighten and note her faint flush and smile as she looked at me. For, dash it, I knew then I had done the right thing!

"Um!" grunted the frump, compressing her lips and looking at my darling.

"There's one good thing: the experience with Mr. Smith will teach Francis a lesson!"

The cat! Nice sort of host!

But the dear girl just laughed--how I remembered that laugh!

"Poor Francis!" she said lightly. "Do you know," she added, "I believe I can forgive a Harvard man almost anything, Mr. Lightnut."

By Jove! The angel! And before I knew what I was doing or thought about the frump, I had stretched out a hand to her, looking her straight in the eye and smiling. She hesitated an instant only, then laughed, and I felt her little fingers just brush my palm--but it was enough.

She flushed a little shyly and addressed the frump.

"Are we going to keep Mr. Lightnut standing like this all day?" she asked.

"Half on earth and half in heaven--like what's-his-name's coffin," I suggested. Devilish good, that, don't you think? _She_ thought so, for she opened the door herself as the frump turned, murmuring some silly thing about China and the open door to America. What did China have to do with it?

And it was just then that Jenkins bolted wildly from the building.

"Mr. Lightnut--quick, sir! Mr. Billings, sir!"

I thought of the telephone right off, but he just caught my arm. First time ever knew Jenkins to take a liberty.

"Come quick, sir!" he exclaimed. "He's up-stairs and, oh, off his nut, sir--_awful_!"

"By Jove!" I gasped. "Excuse me--will see--come right back and tell you--I feared this last night." And I rushed to the elevator with Jenkins.

"He's in them black pajamas he was talking about," said Jenkins gloomily, "and he's run the perfesser off. Leastwise, he ain't there, and his man can't get Mr. Billings to go. He came down for me, but I couldn't do a thing with him, either."

I knew--I understood. It was the dwelling of his mind upon the rubies!

He had gone back in the night for them--in his sleep, for all I knew.

But I thought most likely awake, for recent experience with him showed me that he didn't think anything of wandering around the neighborhood in his pajamas.

The janitor's pale face met us at the landing.

"I've sent for the police, sir, and it would be a good idea, don't you think, if you could get him away before they come. I don't want to get Mr. Billings into no trouble."

"Good idea," I agreed. "We'll just rush him to the car--but, h'm!"

I suddenly remembered he was in pajamas. It might be all right to Billings to wander around in public streets and vehicles in his night things, but it certainly wouldn't do under the present circ.u.mstances.

_He_ might not care, but then, there were the feelings of the girls to consider. And besides, dash it, I had some sort of idea it was against the law.

I stood there in the corridor, puzzling.

"We must get his clothes," I said to Jenkins. "No, wait, _wait_--not time! I want to get him away before the police get here.

Um--dressing-robe--bathrobe--can't you get something of that sort--quick?"

Jenkins shook his head distractedly.

"Thought of that, sir--no use--nothing anywhere around here would half-way meet on Mr. Billings."

Here the professor's man interposed.

"Please hurry, sir; he's going through the professor's papers and things!" I dashed for the apartment, shouting to Jenkins to get a bundle of rugs and blankets to the car.

Billings was standing by the window looking at a gla.s.s thermometer that he had just withdrawn from his mouth.