I RECOVER THE PAJAMAS
Outside, swinging his club and kicking his heel in the macadam, I found
a fat policeman--from New York, I knew by his helmet.
He turned and I saw--O'Keefe!
"Oh, there you are, sir!" And with a careless duck and a wave, he ambled
forward and placed in my hands a parcel.
"It's them, all right!" he said with a fat wink. "The black silk
pajamas--we got 'em, you see!"
"Jove!" I ejaculated, staring. Then suddenly I got the jolly idea full
and strong, you know, and I was just so dashed relieved and delighted, I
shook hands with him--fact!
"Oh, I say, Jenkins," I remarked, twisting my glass at him, "by Jove,
you know--eh?"
"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins admitted calmly. "I knew in a minute soon as
he told me!"
And, by Jove, I believed him! Had to, you know; it was only just one
instance of the devilish clever, intuitive way Jenkins had of boring
into things!
"Yes, sir,"--O'Keefe thoughtfully transferred a big wad to the other
cheek--"the captain gave me a little lay off so's I could bring 'em
up,"--he studied with interest the top of one of the pillars of the
_porte-cochere_ and shrugged lightly--"of course it wasn't just because
of the reward, though of course five hundred bucks is five hundred
bucks, but we thought you might like to have 'em--_thank you_, sir!" For
out of my folder I peeled five crisp centuries and laid them in his
palm.
This done, Jenkins glanced at me and turned suggestively toward the
entrance, but O'Keefe didn't make a move to go and no more did I. Fact
was, I had a devilish keen notion that the old cat up-stairs would be
watching for the policeman's departure through the grounds, and it came
to me that to play him a little longer wouldn't do any harm, but might
seal her jolly mouth the tighter.
O'Keefe thanked me again. "You're sure solid with the force, sir," he
assured, nodding earnestly. "Just remember my number and the name of
Captain Clutchem if any time in town you get rounded up in any of our
little--er, _you_ know!"--he dropped a cheerful wink at me and glanced
again at the bills. "Expect maybe you're anxious to know if Tim gets a
divy outer this," he proceeded; and I murmured some jolly something. Of
course, I _wasn't_ anxious, you know; fact is, I didn't care a
dash--didn't even remember who Tim was. "Yes, siree, he'll get ten of
this!" he finished impressively.
Meantime, he had been hunching himself up until now he succeeded in
wrenching from somewhere behind, a ragged and shiny old wallet, bulging
with worn and greasy papers. Within this, with a flourish, he laid the
bills.
Then he faced us with an air of increased cheerfulness.
"So much all for the velvet!" he remarked with another wink.
Of course it was of no importance to set him right about the material;
as for that, I didn't care a jolly hang if he thought they were made of
linoleum! But it gave me the idea of just peeking into a corner of the
parcel to satisfy myself that its contents were of filmy black silk--and
they were! I went no further; not for all the gold of what's-its-name
would I have profaned the package with further investigation.
"Why, sir, I don't think you need be worrying but what they're all
right," and the big policeman nodded confidently; "in fact there don't
seem to be no damage at all." He added meditatively: "Which is some
wonder, considering how we had to roughhouse Foxy Grandpa before we
softened him down in his cell th' other night." Here his cheeks swelled
and he sent a long sheaf of brown liquid at a grasshopper on the freshly
whitened door-stones--and got it, too, neatly missing the polished toe
of Jenkins' boot. "No, sir!"--emphatically--"I don't think you'll be
hearing any holler from your lady friend when she goes to--_eh_,
what?"--he stared at Jenkins blankly, for Jenkins had coughed--"Oh,
excuse _me_!"--and his big hand lifted apologetically to his mouth,
while his eyes rolled upward--"What I just meant was that I know they're
all to the good; I went _all_ over 'em!"
"_Oh!_" I muttered, turning rather faint. I dropped the parcel and
Jenkins picked it up. By Jove, for a moment, he came jolly near having
to pick _me_ up, too, I was that shocked and prostrated!
"The _only_ thing--the only thing 'tall--" I had to wait through an
agonizing moment while his tongue gathered his wad and peremptorily
expelled it, this time enlivening the cold, dead monotony of the
silver-gray macadam--"was her--I mean, was the pants."
"Ah-h!" I put my hand to my side and looked at Jenkins appealingly, but
he was looking upward, his eyes kind of cast over like a bird's; the
lines of his mouth tightened to an arch--and I knew _he_ was suffering
too! But we _must_ try to stand it a little longer--just a little!
Through one instant's respite, Mr. O'Keefe's thick tongue was occupied
in striving to glutenize the entire wrapper of a much crushed and
awfully yellow cigar. Then he separated a mouthful from the end and
proceeded:
"I did notice with the legs, that one of 'em was just a bit longer than
th' other, and down at the station we was a wondering if--" the brown
head of a crackling match drew a long, curving what-you-call-it on the
smooth, creamy masonry, and he paused to pump madly, striving to coax a
draft of smoke--"we wondered if 'twas--_intentional_." His eyes sought
mine inquiringly.
By Jove, I was so frozen with horror, I couldn't even look away; just
stood there, helpless, you know, and my jolly monocle hanging
limp--couldn't have lifted it to have saved my life! Felt my senses just
growing numb all the while with the tragedy of the thing, the thought of
this coarse monster's touch defiling the dainty, gossamer garment that
had shrouded her sacred what-you-call-'ems--Oh, it was _awful_!
I wondered if the housekeeper could be looking still from her tower,
like Sister Anne in the story of what's-his-name! Perhaps, if I could, I
would better hold out just--
"Um--_ah_, I see! It _was_, then!"--he was nodding with an air of
understanding, pausing in the struggle with the refractory cigar. His
strained and reddened face shaped sympathetically. "Just what _I_
thought and told 'em!" he bobbed with satisfaction. "_I_ understand! You
ain't got no need to make no explanations to _me_!" and he lifted his
fat hand to restrain them. "Why, my wife's own grandmother had a club
foot, and to her last day if she got outer bed on the wrong side, the
old lady went a header sure--oh, _I_ know!"
A moment before, I had thought that so far as the mere matter of jolly
misery was concerned, I had sounded the what-you-call-'ems; but now my
dashed brain was reeling before this new horror! To think that _she_
was--but oh, it _couldn't_ be! And yet I recalled ominously that most of
the time I had known her, I had only seen her sitting!
Mr. O'Keefe exerted another vain pull at his cigar and poised it
critically between his fingers. "I don't seem to make this piece of rope
go," he remarked superfluously, and I thought his eye cut me with a mild
reproach. There was nothing to do but take the hint and produce my
case--just refilled in my room with Paloma perfectos. Oh, I was glad to
do it, by Jove!--glad to be able to do it--devilish glad to find I
wasn't paralyzed, I mean!
"Why, thanks!" His fingers only removed three cigars, but I just made
him take them all! _Oh_, yes, for the case would _have_ to be refilled
now, anyhow, dash it!
"By-y-y the way, sir!" He closed one eye at me as he carved from the
brown beauty a half inch of its waxy bud, using for the maltreatment a
perfectly brutal knife. "That was a neat try-on you made to copper the
thief yourself--a _leetle_ irregular, you know," he shook his head at
me, "but, as the captain said, we ain't making no point about that with
a gent like _you_--sure not!"--another imperishable line of beauty upon
the receptive stone, and he puffed inhalations of joy. "But I knew you
never could get him to the station--I could have told you."
"Oh!" I remarked, puzzled. By Jove, I had a dashed awful thought for a
moment that I must be losing my intelligence! I looked at Jenkins again,
but he had not yet come back to the ground.
"Oh, I'm on, sir!" Another one of those awful winks as his club
scratched his helmet sideways. "You know I saw everything--I was right
there at the Kahoka, you know!"
"Oh, _that_!" I said, understanding. For I knew then that he was talking
about Foxy Grandpa in my rooms. I had almost forgotten the jolly old
vagabond, but it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to show some
interest as they must have recaptured him along with the pajamas. "I
say!" I chirped up, "did you have much trouble about it--getting him
again, you know?"
"Trouble?" O'Keefe's lip doubled contemptuously. "It was easy as
butter!" His hand spread, palm downward, in an expressive gesture. "Why,
he doubled right back to the Kahoka!"
"By Jove, you know!" I exclaimed, startled.
"Surest thing you know! I collared him right in front and with the
goods!" Mr. O'Keefe expectorated eloquently. "My, but he did put up an
awful holler--said the pajamas were his own and he had just had 'em
made. And bluff--_well_!"--he fanned the air for a moment in the effort
to find an appropriate gesture--"I'm used to these swell con men, but
that gun was the limit--pulled out a card case, mind you, and letters,
and wanted me to go with him to his club--his _club_--" the big fellow
doubled over in a spasm of mirth that all but choked him. "I told him
I'd _give_ him the club if he didn't go quietly--for you see I
recognized him in a minute; you can't lose them freak kind! Besides, he
give himself away: told me he'd overlook my conduct on this occasion
_and the other_, if I would release him. Well, that was enough! I
beckoned Jimmy Dwyer across and we run him down the line to the station.
Oh, we got him there, but it wasn't easy--for _him_! And there he'll
stay a while!"
He had to pause and pump air, he was so winded.
"Jove!" I said absently. Fact is, I was getting jolly tired standing so
long--never had stood so long that I could remember. Wondered if the
housekeeper wasn't getting tired, too, wherever she was watching from!
Better give her a few minutes more, though; so I shifted to the other
leg, but yawned comfortably and openly. As for Jenkins, he had just
frozen up like a jolly image, his eyes getting filmier and duller as
O'Keefe proceeded, his chin gradually working higher and his mouth
corners lower, until now they almost pointed to the ground. He was
impressive and devilish correct, but somehow the whole dashed thing
seemed lost on O'Keefe.
He even asked Jenkins for a match--but of course received no attention.
"Gone off in a trance!" he said to me, with a vulgar jerk of his fat
thumb. And then he touched Jenkins with his stick--fact; touched
him!--and winked!
"But it _woulder_ tickled you," he resumed, using one of the vestas I
extended and puffing the cigar until it almost flamed, "if you coulder
seen the grand-stand play this guy put up before the sergeant! But the
old man just let him blow it all off; just sat there calm behind the
desk, chewing away and jabbing a pen through the blotter, while this
stiff fumed and spouted--oh, something scandalous--bringing in the names
of mighty near all the important people in New York; his _friends_, he
said! Oh, yes, he mentioned _you_ in particular, sir!"--and his face
expanded in a relishing grin.
"Dashed impudence!" I murmured feebly.
"_Oh_, yes," carelessly, "but the sarge quieted him--just purty near
soothed him to sleep before he got _through_, you know--it's one of his
ways!"--his glance lifted solemnly.
"Fine, you know!" I murmured admiringly. I reflected approvingly upon
what a dashed good thing it was to have a man in that position--whatever
it was--who was of such a devilish mild and gentle temperament: the
quiet word--the soft answer--the kindly remonstrance--all that sort of
thing, you know.
"We're a leetle crowded now," the big cop pursued, reflectively gouging
into the mortar with the long blade of his knife, "and we had to put him
in the cell with a gorilla what's always wandering back to the jungle
for too much strong-arm work--maybe you read about him? He scragged a
whole family th' other night and threw 'em down the fire-escape."
"Oh!" I said uneasily. "But isn't he--er--rather dangerous?"
"_Naw!_" A careless but vigorous head shake. "_Only_ in his sleep, you
know--it's his dreams leads him off--_or_ unless some one touches or
crowds him; then he gets peevish and--oh, well he _might_, of course--"
Mr. O'Keefe's expressive shrug finished out the idea. But I wouldn't
have heard it anyhow, I was in such a yawn.
By Jove, I was sure the housekeeper would have chucked it by now, or
else worked herself up into a swoon! Why, _my_ jolly foot was asleep! It
was safe to let him go. I looked at my watch and coughed, and Jenkins
came to and backed up to the door, sidling for me to pass within. The
policeman straightened his helmet and murmured words of adieu.
"But, if no offense, there's just one question I'd like to ask you,
sir." He swung his club with a smiling, genial air.
"Oh, dash it, no!" I responded absently.
My eye had been suddenly attracted by a feathery gleam of white through
the trees. It was slowly moving up the slope to a pavilion overlooking
the Tappan Zee.
He drew nearer with a confidential air. "Just a little argument I had
with the old woman, you know, about them pajamas. Would you mind telling
me--_as_ man to man, y'understand--if them garments is"--his voice
dropped--"is like her real shape--figger, I mean--h'm?" And he tapped
the parcel lightly with his stick.
Jenkins cleared his throat loudly and shifted the pajamas to his other
side. As for myself, I just winced as under the stroke of a
what-you-call-it, but one end of my dashed brain was being pulled by the
flashing play of the dappling sunlight there upon--
"By Jove, her figure exactly!" I ejaculated, staring.
For it _was_ her--no, dash it, _she_, I mean! I had a perfectly clear
view of her now as she paused on a little point and hung there looking
out over the Hudson. In her hand was a full-blown, ripened rose, and her
lips were shaping in ravishing little pouts as musingly she blew the
petals from her. But go they would not, but hugged back in the arms of
the light breeze, circling and fluttering about her glorious sunny head
like a swarm of rosy butterflies. It made a pretty picture!
"And what's more, they're just her color, too!" I murmured tenderly,
forgetful of everything but her, unmindful that I was not alone. For
under my hand I could feel my jolly heart quivering like a champagne
cork, freshly unfettered and thrilling eagerly under the impulse of the
mad, dancing, joyous spirit within.
"The one lovely woman in all the world!" I breathed aloud, and I felt my
eyes grow oddly moist.
And for a minute I went off in a jolly trance.
"Good-by, sir!"
It was O'Keefe's voice--oddly constrained.
"Eh?" I ejaculated, blinking at him as I came back. Then I
remembered--but what was it he had been asking? Something--
"Just, good-by!" he repeated with elaborated gentleness. Then,
straightening: "_No_ offense, I hope, if we let it go at that--I mean, I
guess you won't miss it if we _don't_ shake hands?"
I glanced at the gloves he was drawing on.
"Oh, dash it, no!" I responded absently, and my eyes coasted up the
slope again--then dropped back disappointedly, for she had disappeared
within the pavilion.
"Of course, rich people has got privileges," Mr. O'Keefe was ruminating
somberly; "and I ain't saying a word, not a word, mind you!"--the glove
that lightly emphasized this displayed all fingers widely and generously
spread. "The captain'll tell you he ain't having to tell me, like some
of 'em, to be careful about keeping off the grass"--he shrugged--"oh,
well, perhaps enough said!"--and he turned away.
Then he turned back. "Of course, that other part of it"--it would seem
that his club, extended pistol-like, was not leveled at Jenkins so much
as at the pajamas--"of course, nobody can't _help_ that--that's
Nature--I'm some that way myself, though nothing like _so_ much, and
nothing like so heavy as I was. We'll leave that part out of it--_I'm_
willing--but, _gentlemen_"--Jenkins paled, and swayed so horribly, I was
almost sure he would go--"when it comes to--comes to--" With a helpless
head-shake, he gave it up and contented himself with expectorating
violently upon the ground. Then he moved slowly away.
His helmet tossed as he looked back. "I guess we _all_'ve got our little
prejudices," he remarked sententiously; "I know _I_ have! I'm from the
South!"
And without another word, Mr. O'Keefe presented his broad back to us,
and swinging his stick carelessly, sauntered down the drive.
"What the deuce!" I exclaimed, looking after him. "I say, Jenkins, what
did he mean?"
Jenkins' face expressed mild reproach and surprise.
"Can it possibly matter, sir?" he questioned wearily. "Persons
of--er--that sort, you know, sir?"
"Jove!" I uttered, relieved.
Jenkins' coldly elevated brows dismissed the matter from further
consideration. He lifted the parcel with a slight gesture of inquiry.
I had already come to a decision about it: I would send it to Billings!
Perhaps the retrieving of the pajamas would have a soothing effect upon
his poor mind!
I gave Jenkins instructions. "H'm! Of course, manage to speak with him
alone," I cautioned, having thought of Judge Billings; "and don't forget
the message."
"Certainly, sir," said Jenkins attentively. "I'm just to say: 'Mr.
Lightnut's compliments, sir, and he says _you'll_ know what to do with
these.'"
I nodded. "Exactly, and I'll wait here--but, oh, hurry, dash it!" And I
looked longingly at the pavilion and tried to feel if my part was right.
He _did_ hurry! By Jove, he was back almost immediately and looking a
bit rattled.
"Yes, sir!"--he coughed as I screwed my glass inquiringly--"I got there
just as the judge went into his room across the corridor, and Mr.
Billings opened the door the minute I said I was from you. I gave him
the package and the message and he took it over in a corner; and then in
about a minute I heard him chuck it somewhere and say some long word. He
came back to me, looking kinder irritated and with his eyes snapping."
"Oh!" I uttered nervously. "Er, what did he say, Jenkins?"
Jenkins sighed. "Oh, well, sir, nothing as you might say was anything,
_really_; he jerks out kinder crossly: 'Tell Mr. Lightnut, I say one
thing at a time, and give him this!'"
On the scrap of paper I clutched out of Jenkins' hand was a crazy scrawl
of just a half-dozen words:
_I'm a biped, not a centipede!_
I squinted through the dashed thing twice, but could make nothing of
it--I even tried it backward!
"Jove!" I muttered perplexedly. "It's rum, Jenkins!"
Jenkins' mouth tightened and relaxed. "H'm, what _I_ thought, sir," he
responded soberly. "The demon rum, sir!"