"I say, you know!" I said, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g 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 gla.s.s.

"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 a.s.sault 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 sc.r.a.pe 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 gla.s.s, "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!

CHAPTER XXVII

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 e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, 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 gla.s.s 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 a.s.sured, 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 gra.s.shopper 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.