For a moment I had a thought of Foxy Grandpa, but the janitor had said he did not belong in the building. Besides, Billings' next words removed that clue to the lost pajamas. By Jove, how I did long to ask his advice about them! Once I was on the point of doing so--had devilish narrow escape, in fact--but pulled up on the brink. So deuced hard to remember that anything so delicate and sweet and fetching could be Billings' sister, you know. I had been wondering for an hour whether I had better say anything about my adventure up at Tarrytown--wondered if she would like me to. "Here, you moon calf, wake up!" Billings' coarse voice brought me back to the present, and I had to blink and pretend I was listening. "I'm telling you about Doozenberry! I say you surely must have seen him--you couldn't miss him in a black cave. Queer-looking old skate, tall as a street lamp and as thin; looks like a long cylinder of black broadcloth. So dignified it hurts him." I reflected. "Awfully large head," continued Billings, elevating his hands some two feet apart, "pear-shaped affair--big end up--bumps on it like halves of grape fruit, porcupine eyebrows, and--" "Oh, I know," I said, nodding eagerly; "and a little, shriveled--well, kind of mashed sort of face, eyes beadlike and jolly small. I've got him now! I've gone down with him in the elevator." Billings nodded. "You've got him painted," he said drily. "That's the professor; only, his eyes are anything but 'jolly.' I've ridden in the elevator with him myself. Always manages to look like he was traveling with a bad smell!" "Devilish sensitive, I dare say." Billings looked at me suspiciously, but I had got hold of the thing I was trying to recollect and I went on quickly: "By Jove, you know, I believe Jenkins knows his man--fellow who butlers, and, I believe, cooks, for him. He and Jenkins belong to the same--how do they call it?--same club of gentlemen's gentlemen." Billings brought his fist down. "Let's have Jenkins in," he suggested. And we did. "I say, Jenkins," I began, "this Professor Doodle bug above us--" "Doozenberry!" Billings sharply corrected. "Well, some jolly rum thing about him, don't you know, Jenkins--something you said his man told you--remember, eh?" Jenkins' eyes batted a little. He cleared his throat. "Why, yes, sir; he told me a lot of funny things one night, sir. Don't suppose he would have done it, only him and me had an evening off and we--we--" Jenkins seemed to hesitate. "And you went on a bat together," suggested Billings, rubbing his hands pleasantly. "It was, sir," Jenkins admitted, looking at me sadly. "Leastways, he sort o' loosened up as he got--got--" "Pickled," Billings helped smoothly. "Quite so, sir; there's some is that way always: some is taken other ways." Jenkins considered Billings moodily. "The power of the demon rum, sir." "Ah, true!" sighed Billings, lifting his eyes.