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.