r every night at nine on the fearful consequences of the
drink habit, and passes around blank pledges to be signed. I'm going to
get one first chance; and if you will accept it, sir--meaning no
offense--I would be proud to get you one, too."

I stared at him aghast.

"Oh, I say, now," I murmured faintly, "you don't think it was that, do
you?"

Jenkins' face was eloquent enough.

"I'm through, sir," he said sadly. "When it comes to seeing things like
that--" He lifted his eyes. "No more for me, sir; my belief is, it's a
warning--yes, sir, that's what, a warning."

I collapsed into a chair.

"By Jove!" I gasped uneasily.

I was awfully put out--annoyed, you know. It was the first time anything
of the kind had ever happened to me. If I started in with tarantulas,
what would I be seeing next?

Jenkins gulped nervously. "Why, sir," he whispered, leaning toward me,
"these pajamas--you see for yourself how red they are--they actually
seemed to lose color when that bug was in 'em."

"Oh, pshaw!" I said contemptuously. "I saw that, too." And I explained
to him about the shadow of the table. He nodded.

"But that only makes it worse, sir," he commented dubiously. "It shows
the 'mental condition,' as they say. You know, we were talking about the
black art--remember, sir?"

I did remember; and also I remembered then we saw the spider. I recalled
that spiders and tarantulas belonged to the same family. Of course
Jenkins' suspicions hit the nail--it must be that--there was no getting
around it--but still--

"By Jove, Jenkins!" I said, trying to go a feeble smile. "I never felt
so fit for a corking stiff highball in my life--never!"

I took a screw on my glass and studied him curiously.

"And I say, you know--better take one yourself!" I added.

CHAPTER III

I DON THE PAJAMAS

"By Jove, Jenkins, they fit like a dream!"

I twisted before the glass and surveyed the pajamas with much
satisfaction. They looked jolly right from every point. Moreover, with
all their easy looseness, there was not an inch too much. They had a
comfortable, personal feel.

"Lucky thing they weren't made originally for some whale like Jack
Billings--eh, Jenkins?" I commented musingly.

Behind his hand Jenkins indulged in what is vulgarly known as a snicker.

"Mr. Billings, sir, he couldn't get one shoulder in 'em, much less
a--h'm--leg," he chuckled. "They'd be in ribbons, sir!"

I yawned sleepily, and Jenkins instantly sober