The Haunted Pajamas

I stared, polished my glass and nodded. I even chirped up a smile, but I didn't utter a word. Dash it, what was there to say? But you mustn't let them know that, you know. So I just waited, and he squirmed a little and went on:

"It was too late after he told me about the mistake; and I was – well, I was afraid to mention it to you, sir."

"Mistake! What mistake?"

He gulped; dashed if I didn't think he was going to choke.

"I – I'm sure, sir, I wouldn't have had such a thing happen for – "

I could stand it no longer.

"Oh, I say! I haven't any idea what you're talking about!"

Jenkins cleared his throat with an effort, his eyes rolling at me apologetically. When he spoke there was a tremble in his utterance, and it was rather husky:

"Why, sir," he began in a low tone, "you told me to have your dealer ship this gentleman, this Mr. Mastermann, a dozen boxes of Paloma perfectos – your favorite brand, you know, sir – ninety dollars the hundred."

He paused, his fingers resting tremblingly on the edge of the table.

"I dare say," I yawned presently. "Well, what of it?" I was getting impatient. By Jove, he was making me downright nervous, don't you know! Besides, I was so devilish anxious to get on with Mastermann's letter. I wanted to find out, if possible, what it was the fellow had sent me.

Jenkins breathed hard and leaned toward me. Then he seemed to flunk again and dropped back. Dashed if I didn't think I heard him groan! But I stared at him through my glass, and he swallowed hard and went on:

"An error, sir, of the shipping clerk. He – "

With a murmured apology, Jenkins paused to wipe his forehead. I saw that the perspiration had gathered in great drops. Then he seemed to gather himself for a resolute effort, his eyes fixing themselves upon me with the most extraordinary expression – kind of half-frightened, half-desperate glare – that sort of thing, don't you know. I began to feel devilish uncomfortable and edged away.

And he made another plunge: "They sent him – "

And, dash me if he didn't stick again! It just looked like he couldn't get past. But I encouraged him – just like you have to do a horse, you know – and this time he got over:

"They sent him a dozen boxes of 'Hickey's Pride,' sir, instead!"

He spoke in a low, choking voice and looked me full in the eye – the kind of look you get when a chap's boxing with you, you know – that sort of thing.

CHAPTER II

AN OMINOUS DISCOVERY

I was puzzled.

"'Hickey's Pride?'" I repeated thoughtfully. "I don't seem to recall that one. Do I smoke it often?"

Jenkins seemed to gasp.

"You? Certainly not, sir! Never!"

And, by Jove, he turned pale! Anyhow, he looked devilish queer as he put his hands down on the table and bent to whisper:

"Mr. Lightnut, sir – " And the way he dropped his voice and turned his head to peer around into the corners was just creepy! That's what, creepy! This, with the glow from the green lampshade on his pale face as he leaned across the table – oh, it was something ghastly – awful, you know! It got on my nerves, and I could feel the hair slowly rising on each side of my part. He bent close, whispering behind his hand, and I knew he had been eating radishes for dinner:

"It's what's known in the trade, sir, as a 'twofer.'"

"A 'twofer!'" I repeated, puzzled.

"Two for five, sir." Jenkins spoke faintly. "I'm sure I'm ashamed to mention to a perfect gen – "

"By Jove, I know!" I lifted my finger suddenly. "I know now the kind you mean – big, fat, greasy-looking ones – the sort Vanderdecker and Colonel Boylston smoke over at the club." I shook my head. "Too jolly thick and heavy for me. So they're two for a 'V' – eh? Oh, I see– 'twofers!' By Jove!"

A brand new one, this – a ripper! I made up my mind to spring it on the fellows first chance – that is, if I could remember the jolly thing. I just looked at Jenkins' solemn face and laughed.

"Oh, I say, Jenkins – hang the expense, you know!" I remonstrated in some disgust. For this London chap had given me no end of a good time, you know; and it's such devilish bad form – rotten, I say – haggling about expense when you want to make a come-back and do the handsome. I was jolly glad the mistake had happened.

Just here I remembered the letter and went at it again, for I was keen to find out, if possible, if it was a muffler under the string. So I fixed my glass and read on:

"Realizing what these cigars are, I have given them, from time to time, to friends of mine – and others. Really, I don't think I ever had such unselfish, unalloyed pleasure from anything in my life. Gave one to a bus driver out Earl's Court way – chap who had never been known to speak to man, woman or child in years, and, after he lighted it – well, my word! He opened up and grew so bally loquacious I had to get off."

"By Jove!" I exclaimed.

I felt real pleased – that kind of fizzy glow – sort of bubbling-champagney-feeling you get, you know, whenever a friend does some clever, unexpected thing – like repaying a loan, for instance. Know about that, because I had it happen to me once. Fact!

"See that, Jenkins?" I said with a little triumph.

I wanted to reassure him, for I could see with half an eye that the poor fellow was devilish plucked about the expense. And Jenkins certainly looked regularly bowled over.

I read on:

"Had been trying to get Jorgins, my chief, to send me out here again to China, but he was ever finding some cold, beastly evasion. But when your package came to the office, the first thing I did after I had tried the cigars was to hand the old iceberg a box with my compliments.

"Five minutes after, he came back, completely thawed out. Fact is, never saw him so warm toward any one. Asked me if the other boxes were to be given away outside. Said no; that his was the only box I could spare; was going to keep 'em all there at the office and smoke 'em myself. Never saw a man so moved – so worked up over a little thing. Next day he sent me out here to China."

"Coals of fire!" I ejaculated admiringly. "Regular out-and-out coals of fire, by Jove!"

"And so I have been looking about since I have been out here, trying to find something as rare, unique and full of surprises for your friends as your cigars have been for mine. I have found it."

"And devilish handsome of him, Jenkins, eh?" I commented gratefully; and I looked with renewed interest at the little roll in my hand. Jove, how I wished, though, he would come to the point and say what it was!

"You know what a curiously upside-down people the Chinese are. Example, they begin dinner with desert and end with soup; they drink hot, acid beverages in summer instead of iced ones; they write from right to left, vertically, while we write from left to right, horizontally; they mourn in white instead of black, and they are awfully honest and pay their debts.

"But there is one other point of difference still queerer: they wear pajamas all day, while we wear them only at night."

Here I yawned. Always hate that heavy, historical, instructive stuff, you know. If you have to hear it, gives you headache, unless you can slip off to sleep first.

So I reached the letter up to Jenkins.

"Just run over the rest of it yourself, and see if he says anything about his present," I said, settling comfortably. Clever idea of mine, don't you think?

And I was just dropping my head to have a snug little nap – just a little forty, you know – when, dash me, if I didn't have another idea! Awfully annoying, time like that.