"We'll have a talk about it some time," I said pleasantly. "Just now, don't you think we'd better each get to bed? So devilish late, you know." He slapped me on the shoulder with a blow that almost brought me to the floor. Felt like he struck me with a ham, don't you know! "Right, old chap," he said; "very delicately put; won't keep you up another minute. Believe I'd like a drink first, though, if you don't mind." Devilish bored as I was, I decided the easiest escape was to humor him. "All right," I said, leaving the door open and stepping into the room; "I'll get you a glass of water." "Water!" he exclaimed, following me right in. "Say, don't get funny; it's not becoming to you." He leered at me hideously. He went right to the corner where stood my cellarette. By Jove, give you my word I was so devilish stupefied I couldn't bring out a word. I wasn't sure what was coming, and as I didn't want Billings' rest disturbed, I quietly closed the door of his room. The old cock in the black pajamas had uncorked a bottle and was smelling its contents. He grimaced over his shoulder. "That's infernally rotten Scotch, I say!" he exclaimed with a sort of snort. "Regular sell, by George!" I was glad Billings didn't hear him, for it had been a present from him only the week before. "Suppose I'll have to go the rye," he grumbled; and, grinning at me familiarly, he poured himself a drink. He tossed it off, neat. I reflected that perhaps he would go quietly now. "Well," I said, advancing, "I expect you're anxious to get to your quarters, so I'll say good night." I extended my hand. "That ought to fetch him," I thought, "if he's a gentleman, no matter how jolly corked he may be." In my grasp his hand felt like a small boxing glove, but when I glanced at it I saw that it was not unusual. The old duck pumped my arm solemnly and cast his eyes to the ceiling. "Fa-are-we-e-ll, old f-friend!" he murmured in a husky tremolo, deflecting the corners of his mouth and wagging his bald pate. "If I don't see you again I'll have the river dragged!" And then, instead of going, dash me if the old fool didn't flop down into Billings' favorite chair and reach for Billings' cigarettes that he had left on the tabouret. He waved his hand at me. "Oh, you go on to bed, Lightnut," he said, puffing away with iron nerve. "All the sleep's out of me, dammit! I'll just sit here and read and smoke as long as I like, then I'll go in there and turn in." A jerk of his doddering head indicated Billings' room. By Jove, I hardly knew what to do! I was regularly bowled over, don't you know. I was up against a crisis--that's what--a crisis. "Oh, I say, you know--" I started remonstrating, and just then I gasped with relief at the welcome sight of Jenkins, peeking round the door-frame behind my visitor's back. His finger was on his lips and he beckoned me earnestly.