"That's it, sir," said Jenkins in an odd voice. "It ain't here." "Why, dash it, I saw you strike the beast, right where you're holding that club." "Mr. Lightnut, sir"--Jenkins spoke a little huskily and glanced around at me queerly--"will you look under the end of this stick and see if you see what I see?" I climbed down and examined cautiously. "Why, by Jove, it's the little spider!" I exclaimed, surprised. "Exactly, sir; what's left." Jenkins took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir--it's a great relief," he sighed. "Eh?" "I mean, sir, I'm glad I ain't the only one who thought he saw that other. It's _some_ comfort." Jenkins spoke gloomily. "_Thought_ you saw?" I repeated. But Jenkins only shook his head as he gathered up the remains of the spider and consigned them to a cuspidor. "You mean--say, what the devil _do_ you mean?" I asked sharply. Jenkins straightened with air respectful but solemn. "Mr. Lightnut, sir," he began gravely, "there's a party lectures on the street corner every night at nine on the fearful consequences of the drink habit, and passes around blank pledges to be signed. I'm going to get one first chance; and if you will accept it, sir--meaning no offense--I would be proud to get you one, too." I stared at him aghast. "Oh, I say, now," I murmured faintly, "you don't think it was that, do you?" Jenkins' face was eloquent enough. "I'm through, sir," he said sadly. "When it comes to seeing things like that--" He lifted his eyes. "No more for me, sir; my belief is, it's a warning--yes, sir, that's what, a warning." I collapsed into a chair. "By Jove!" I gasped uneasily. I was awfully put out--annoyed, you know. It was the first time anything of the kind had ever happened to me. If I started in with tarantulas, what would I be seeing next? Jenkins gulped nervously. "Why, sir," he whispered, leaning toward me, "these pajamas--you see for yourself how red they are--they actually seemed to lose color when that bug was in 'em." "Oh, pshaw!" I said contemptuously. "I saw that, too." And I explained to him about the shadow of the table. He nodded. "But that only makes it worse, sir," he commented dubiously. "It shows the 'mental condition,' as they say. You know, we were talking about the black art--remember, sir?" I did remember; and also I remembered then we saw the spider. I recalled that spiders and tarantulas belonged to the same family. Of course Jenkins' suspicions hit the nail--it must be that--there was no getting around it--but still-- "By Jove, Jenkins!" I said, trying to go a feeble smile. "I never felt so fit for a corking stiff highball in my life--never!" I took a screw on my glass and studied him curiously. "And I say, you know--better take one yourself!" I added. CHAPTER III I DON THE PAJAMAS "By Jove, Jenkins, they fit like a dream!"