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
am_fibby_ 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_--"
"Eh?" I said in alarm and stepping back, for, dash it, _I_ didn't know
what she wanted; and for a moment I had an awful thought she wanted me
to--_you_ know! 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 the
_porte-cochere_.
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! _You_ know, that night--h'm!"
"Oh!" I said faintly. And this time he _did_ catch my arm, and I was
devilish glad, by Jove!