His eye roved eloquently between Jenkins and myself. He continued soberly:
"He's locked me and Perkins out of his rooms again, and wouldn't open the door only wide enough to stick this through. And his message"—hesitatingly—"he said just tell you you had better get these pajamas back where they came from just as quickly as you could—you would if you were wise, he said."
"Oh!" I uttered, dazed by this new blow. So it was her pajamas.
But there was more of the message—I could see it in Wilkes' eye.
"Yes, sir," he went on as I gave him a nod. "Mr. Billings called through the door-crack—and his voice was particularly shrill—screechy-like—very unnatural, sir—and he said: 'You tell him I say he'll find it very dangerous to keep them by him a moment; tell him my advice is to return them immediately!'"
Here the butler hesitated an instant and added: "And he said for me to try to remember three letters I was to mention—said you would understand."
"Three letters?" I repeated dully.
"Yes, sir, three letters—I did remember 'em, too, because they happened to be the initials of a young woman I—h'm! Q. E. D., sir."
"Q. E. D.?" I said, puzzled and miserable. "What's Q. E. D.?" And then an idea startled me.
"Oh I say, you mean—er—P. D. Q.—eh, Wilkes?" It sounded like Jack!