ow! I saw one once on
a bunch of bananas down in South Street. If they jump on you and bite,
you might as well just walk around to the undertaker. A dago told me
so."

I backed nervously from the crumpled crimson pile on the floor.

_Crimson?_

Of course, I knew it was crimson; it must be the shadow of the table
there that made the things so dark--_black_, in fact. But my mind was on
the tarantula; and I was thinking that it must have been wrapped with
the pajamas. Yet I could not understand how this could be, considering
how tightly the things had been rolled.

Anyhow, it was there; and Jenkins pointed excitedly.

"Look, sir! You can see it moving under the silk!"

By Jove, so you could! And the thing seemed nearly as big as a rat. It
was making for the end of the leg. I climbed upon a chair.

"Get a club," I exclaimed, "and smash the thing as it comes out!"

Jenkins rushed out and returned with a brassie.

"Careful now," I warned from the chair. "Don't go and hit the dashed
thing before it gets out, and make a devil of a mess on the silk! There
it is--it's out! No, no--not yet! Wait, until it gets its whole body
out! There now; he's drawing out his last beastly leg. Now--_now_ let
drive!"

And he did, and seemed to hit the thing squarely.

I knelt on the chair and craned over, while Jenkins still held the stick
tightly at the point where the thing had struck.

"Get him?" I queried. "Where is it?"

"That's it, sir," said Jenkins in an odd voice. "It ain't here."

"Why, dash it, I saw you strike the beast, right where you're holding
that club."

"Mr. Lightnut, sir"--Jenkins spoke a little huskily and glanced around
at me queerly--"will you look under the end of this stick and see if you
see what I see?"

I climbed down and examined cautiously.

"Why, by Jove, it's the little spider!" I exclaimed, surprised.

"Exactly, sir; what's left." Jenkins took a deep breath.

"Thank you, sir--it's a great relief," he sighed.

"Eh?"

"I mean, sir, I'm glad I ain't the only one who thought he saw that
other. It's _some_ comfort."

Jenkins spoke gloomily.

"_Thought_ you saw?" I repeated.

But Jenkins only shook his head as he gathered up the remains of the
spider and consigned them to a cuspidor.

"You mean--say, what the devil _do_ you mean?" I asked sharply.

Jenkins straightened with air respectful but solemn.

"Mr. Lightnut, sir," he began gravely, "there's a party lectures on the
street corne