"I'm not, sir!" And the butler's hand came down, revealing a sobered countenance. "I was just a-wondering if he would try to get you to put on the pajamas—he did all the rest of us, even—" His eye angled cautiously at the housekeeper, then batted at us significantly as her red head wriggled deeper. "Fact is, I think he's kinder gone off about pajamas—just as I told you, sir." His glance appealed to me. "Yes, sir, when I took you his message—you know—and brought back yours, it was even more so then."
I felt myself get devilish red, then pale, for the judge's eyes were on me.
"Yes," he muttered, still looking at me, "he was telling me something the other day about some silk pajamas."
And then I knew he knew!
"Yes, sir," continued Wilkes, "when I got back with your message, Mr. Lightnut, he seemed to get more excited about them—about pajamas, I mean. He talked to me and Perkins through the door crack and wanted one of us to put 'em on—'in the interests of science,' he called it—and offered to pass 'em out."
"Poor fellow—poor fellow!"—and the judge looked pitiful—"well, why didn't you humor him?"
"I—I don't know, sir!" The butler looked embarrassed. "And, anyhow, it was just then Mrs. Warfield came, and he tried to get—"
"Oo-o-o-o!" from the black bundle.
"And then—" Wilkes hesitated, looking uneasy.
"Go on, man!"