And then the door closed behind our "good nights."

Jenkins was studying me somberly.

"Yes, sir," he said presently, when I had made comment about the bully punch. And that was about all I could get out of him, until he was ready to push out the light.

Then he addressed me gloomily:

"Good night, sir," he said with a sickly, feeble smile, "I hope you'll sleep well; and--" he coughed faintly--"and--er--wake up--h'm--all right!"

"Frisky as a--" I bunched my head sleepily into the pillow--"as a jolly--" But the idea wouldn't come!

"Night!" I murmured; and let it go at that!

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE DEMON RUM

I _didn't_ feel frisky when I awoke!

No, dash it, I had a devilish headache and my mouth had that gummy, warm-varnish taste--_you_ know! The sunlight lay across the floor, and outside I could hear the jolly birds twittering among their what's-its-names. Jenkins stood by the foot of the bed and somehow had a gloomy look. He cleared his throat, and I had a feeling that he had already done it several times. I raised to my elbow, mouthing at him heavily.

"Morning, sir!" He said it very gently--I thought solicitously. "_How_ do you feel, sir?" This last in the kind of tone you use when the chap's going to die to-morrow, don't you know, and doesn't know it yet himself.

I mumbled reply, gulping down the gla.s.s of ice-water he tendered.

He rubbed his hands one over the other and stooped above me anxiously.

"I _hope_, sir, you're not in much pain--from last night, sir, I mean?"

"Pain?" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed crossly. "Why should I be in pain? Don't be a silly a.s.s!"

"Yes, sir!"--very softly, and with a deep sigh as he dropped back. By Jove, he looked as cheerful as a jolly tombstone!

"What the deuce--" I began.

"Noth--nothing, sir!"--hastily--"I was just a-thinking of the--h'm--may I say scrimmage, sir?"

I waited till I had taken from his hand the second gla.s.s of ice-water and swallowed it, thinking maybe I would get hold of it--the dashed idea, I mean.

I batted at him perplexedly.

"What was that? _Scrimmage?_ I don't remember hearing anything--_what's_ that?"

And I reached for another gla.s.s.

"Pardon, sir--" Jenkins' eye shifted unhappily; "but may I ask, sir, what _is_ the last thing you do remember?"

"Eh?"

I sat up a bit straighter, rubbing my head and devilish annoyed at being made to try to think at all. Then I remembered: We were in a jolly blue aeroplane drawn by golden humming-birds and she was just telling me--_no_, dash it, that was a dream--just a dashed dream! I groaned, dropping my head upon my knees. "Why, the last thing I remember was the punch--punch--"

"Punch--yes, sir!" And Jenkins sighed.

"_Your_ punch to put out the light," I finished. Then I looked at him, startled. "Oh, I say, now, it wasn't burglars, was it?"

You see, I thought at once of Foxy Grandpa and my darling's pajamas.

"_Not_ precisely, sir." Jenkins hesitated; then moved a little nearer.

"I--I hope you'll pardon me, Mr. Lightnut, sir; but I can't help a feeling that you ought to know everything before--h'm--I was going to say, sir, before you see the family. I _hope_ you'll pardon me, sir!"--he heaved desperately--"I mean about all that happened last night."

I stared. "Oh, I say, Jenkins," I said, with an anxious thought, "_you_ didn't--er--_you_ know--I mean you and Wilkes didn't drink the rest of the punch--after he took it away, you know--eh?"

"_Me?_" Jenkins' hand clutched the heavy bra.s.s curve at the foot of the bed. "No, _sir_!"--and he added sadly: "Besides, sir, there _wasn't_ any rest of it! Mr. Wil--I mean Wilkes, was a-commenting on it. That was how I come to find I didn't have any more of the blank pledges. So I just walked across the park to get some extra ones I had given the gardener, and he said I could have 'em _all_, if I'd just let him get a little sleep; and he chucked 'em all out of his window. Seemed irritated like because I woke him up. And then, sir, I don't know whether it was because of the splashing of the fountains, but I had an idea."

"_That's_ nothing," I said contemptuously, "I often do at night when I hear water splashing. I _often_ get up and get something."

Jenkins' face sobered. "I _know_ it, sir--pardon, sir, I mean I frequently know you have--h'm--know by the gla.s.ses--_you_ understand, sir!" Then he went on: "The idea that came to me was a great liberty--I know that, sir, and I'm sorry--but I guess I was thinking that about the end justifies--_you_ know it, sir?"

I didn't know, but I did wish _he_ would make an end!

"The library windows was open on the loggia, sir, and when I looked in, I didn't see anybody and I thought--" Jenkins coughed and looked devilish rattled--"thought I would just slip in and lay a few of the temperance pledges between the papers the judge had been working on."

Jenkins reddened, looking at me in an appealing way.

"Jove!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, staring. "Oh, I say, now!"

"Yes, sir,"--faintly--"I knew how you would feel--I ain't excusing myself, sir; and when I heard your voice I tried to get out, but there wasn't time, so I--" Jenkins touched his hands in front, then behind him, and shifted distressfully, "I--I hid behind the alcove curtains--h'm--and just then--"

"Here!" I broke in, "_Wait_, dash it! _Whose_ voice did you hear?"

Jenkins' eyes ducked.

"Yours, sir," he said faintly. "And then you came in."

I stared, trying to take it in. Couldn't chirp a word, don't you know, for to _think_ I had taken to sleep-walking--and _here_!

Jenkins proceeded rapidly: "You was cording a dressing-robe about you as you came in and I see a glimpse of one of your dark suits underneath.

And following right behind you was that young Mr. Bi--h'm--pardon, sir, I remember you said I wasn't to mention any one connected with that ni--h'm! _You_ know who I mean, sir?"--he paused anxiously--"Young man, sir--freckled face--and the big lot of"--his spreading fingers curved above his head--"_awfully_ yellow hair--um, _you_ know, sir?"

"Oh, _that_!" I said with contempt, for I knew he meant that mucker, Scoggins. Then incredulously: "Oh, I say, you don't mean I was talking to _him_? And asleep?"

Jenkins eyed me reproachfully. "Not asleep, sir," he remonstrated gently.

"But I tell you--"