"By Jove!" I gasped feebly.
"Yes, sir." Wilkes looked up at the paneled ceiling and stroked his chin. "He mentioned that they found them—or thought they found them in the bag he had with him."
"But he's got them on, and they are his own," I managed to get out.
Wilkes' face lightened understandingly. "Oh-h, I see, sir," he said, nodding with his jolly chin hanging; "so that's how you got him off—I was a-wondering!" He looked at me, his fishy old eyes twinkling admiration. "Very neat, if I may say, sir—making, as it were, a sort of alibi—very neat, indeed! Of course, when they puts 'em on him, they see for themselves they are his'n, and not any lady's what had been stolen—Oh, I see!"
Dash me, if I did! The only thing I saw was that it must have been Jenkins that had telephoned and the message had been twisted. What he had said, of course, was that Billings had almost been arrested. But the police finding the pajamas in his bag—I did not like that. Could it be that, after all, Billings had found his sister's pajamas in the guest-room and had quietly confiscated them? It looked devilishly, ominously like it! Or perhaps he, himself, had recovered them from Foxy Grandpa, and with more delicacy than I thought him capable of, had kept the whole matter to himself. One thing only was certain: the sleuth hounds of the law, stimulated by the extravagant reward I had offered over the telephone, had run down and recovered her pajamas. It was a relief that they were out of his hands, anyhow—I could get them again, but he couldn't. By Jove!
Alone in my room, I stood before the mirror, hands in pockets and rocking on my toes—kind of smiling, you know—and thinking what a daredevil, reckless thing it had been—clever, too, dash it—in getting them away from old Jack, and right under his nose. By Jove, I felt a bit proud about it—sort of exultation, don't you know—and I had just got off a wink at myself, when Wilkes appeared again.
"Pardon, sir, for disturbing you, but Mr. Billings is acting so queer, we are afraid to cross him; and he just insisted I take his message to you at once."
"Message?" I repeated, sobering.
"Yes, sir—something about some pajamas—"
"Pajamas?" I faltered, and I dropped into a chair. "Oh!"