"Jolly well never," insisted the waster; "not for anything a dentist-fellow could manage. Come now!"
Bean was listless once more, deaf, unseeing.
"Righto," said the waster. "Bachelor dinner last night ... yes?"
The situation had become intelligible to him. He found the bathroom, and from it came the sound of running water. He had the air of a Master of Revels.
"Into it—only thing to do!"
He led Bean to the brink of the icy pool and skilfully flayed him of the flowered gown. He was thorough, the waster. He'd known chaps to pretend to get in by making a great splashing with one hand, after they were left alone. He overcame a few of the earlier exercises in jiu-jitsu and committed Bean's form to the deep.
"Righto!" he exclaimed. "Does it every time. Shiver all you like. Good for you! Now then—clothes! Clothes and things, Man! Oh, here they are to be sure! How stupid of me! Feel better already, yes? Knew it. Studs in shirt. My word! Studs! Studs! There! Let me tie it. Here! Look alive man! She would have it. She must have known you. There!"
He had finished by clamping Bean's hat tightly about his head. Bean was thinking that the waster possessed more executive talent than Grandma had given him credit for; also that he would find an excuse to break away once they were outside; also that Balthasar was keenly witty. Balthasar had said it would disintegrate if handled.
He would leave Nap with Cassidy. He would return for him that night, then flee. He would go back to Wellsville, which he should never have left.
The waster had him in the car outside, a firm grasp on one of his arms.