“My boy!” he exclaimed, “you're MORE than Van Warden! You're a genius!” He rose and made a peremptory gesture. “Sorry,” he said, “but this isn't safe for either of us. Follow me, and I'll dress you up and send you where you want to go.” He turned and whispered over his shoulder: “Some day let me hear from you. A man with your nerve—”
In alarm the naked one with a gesture commanded silence.
The library led to the front hall. In this was the coat-room. First making sure the library and hall were free of servants, Fred tiptoed to the coat-room and, opening the door, switched: on the electric light. The naked man, leaving in his wake a trail of damp footprints, followed at his heels.
Fred pointed at golf-capes, sweaters, greatcoats hanging from hooks, and on the floor at boots and overshoes.
“Put on that motor-coat and the galoshes,” he commanded. “They'll cover you in case you have to run for it. I'm going to leave you here while I get you some clothes. If any of the servants butt in, don't lose your head. Just say you're waiting to see me—Mr. Keep. I won't be long. Wait.”
“Wait!” snorted the stranger. “You BET I'll wait!”
As Fred closed the door upon him, the naked one was rubbing himself violently with Mrs. Keep's yellow golf-jacket.
In his own room Fred collected a suit of blue serge, a tennis shirt, boots, even a tie. Underclothes he found ready laid out for him, and he snatched them from the bed. From a roll of money in his bureau drawer he counted out a hundred dollars. Tactfully he slipped the money in the trousers pocket of the serge suit and with the bundle of clothes in his arms raced downstairs and shoved them into the coat-room.
“Don't come out until I knock,” he commanded. “And,” he added in a vehement whisper, “don't come out at all unless you have clothes on!”
The stranger grunted.