“I was awakened by feeling a hand moving about under my pillow,” explained the fat man. “I thought a robber was after my pocketbook and watch. I called an alarm. Then I felt a pain in my arm and I thought I had been shot, but, as I heard no report, I judged a silencer had been used on the robber’s gun. But if it was only a bug——”
“It was my black beetle,” explained Professor Snodgrass patiently. “I am very sorry, sir, but I could not let it get away. I saw it crawl up into your berth and I thought I could get it back without awakening you. I am sorry. By the way, the bite of this insect is harmless.”
“Um! Well, it isn’t painless, at all events,” said the fat man, rubbing his arm.
“I regret it exceedingly, sir,” went on the scientist. “If you will allow me——”
He took from his pocket a small tin box which contained some soothing ointment and smeared the red spots on the fat man’s arm, for the beetle had pinched in two places.
“That will relieve the pain,” said Uriah Snodgrass. “I use it myself, and I have been bitten by hundreds of beetles.” He said this with an air of pride, as one might boast of battle wounds.
“Um,” murmured the fat man, his feelings a little mollified as the pain eased after the application of the ointment. “Well, I’m glad you have your bug back. I don’t want to sleep with it.”
He ducked back into his berth and Jerry returned to his, looking out to say:
“Better turn in, Professor,” for the little scientist had not yet undressed.