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withdrawn, I sat there a moment, swallowing hard.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."
"Your brother?" I questioned, astonished, and I guess my face must have
showed it, for Billings' eyes, first opening wide, narrowed, and his
countenance began to gather an angry red. He stopped short.
"_Didn't_ he stay with you?" he snapped.
I stared blankly. "Why, Billings--I didn't know--I didn't remember you
had a brother. I never have seen him."
Billings' face swelled redder, and he struck his fist down with an oath.
He looked angrily toward the house. Then he stepped hurriedly in advance
of me.
"Excuse me, old chap, will you?" he said, his voice hardened. "Will see
you at luncheon--make yourself at home, won't you?"