Evening Star Newspaper, October 4, 1936, Page 84

4 climax when Wash decided he was warm, and stripped down to the waist, so all his great muscles rippled, vanished, and leaped out again under the light. Volney didn’t notice that Wash, thus revealed, managed to take a position at the window, whence he was just visible from the kitchen, where Mrs. Knight was holding the household conference with Martha. - After Wash left, Volney tackled his lessons, counted his marbles, practiced strokes, and looked at pictures in the tennis guide. Shortly before ten, he heard Wash go out, and some time later, heard his father come in. Voices floated up to him, and they didn’t have a nice sound. He remembered his offense at dinner, and grew uneasy. He went to the head of the They weren't talking about him at all. They were talking about Wash. His father’s voice had a hard, angry rasp in it Volney had never heard before, and his mother’s was quiet, tense, and bitter. “. .. So you heard this at the club. May I ask, Jack, why you have to go to the club to hear things about me?” 5 “I didn’t go to the club to hear things about you. I went there to attend a committee meet- ing, on this theft business, as you very well know. ! heard it just the same. Overheard it, rather. In the bar. That'’s a swell place to hear your wife talked about, isn't it?" “He made a bet, is that it?” “That the whole place kncws about.” “That he would add me to his string before the week’s out?” “Yeah, and 1 want to know what you've got to say about it.” “I say if he made a bet, that’s flattering, but he’s never made the slightest advance to- ward me since you first brought him here.” “Oh yes he has. He hardly opens his mouth that it isn’t something about your youth, or it all the time. You know what I mean.” “In your presence. In mine, alone — noth- mg‘ll “And you? What do you do?"”’ “Nothing.” ““You've done something to put this idea in “I've done nothing whatever.” ““All right, never mind what you did. What are you going to do now?” “Again g mhing." ..Ww” “Jack, I didn’t invite this man here. You did. If you hadn’t been so bedazzled by his celebrity as a tennis player you’d have seen what any woman can see with one look at him. He’s nothing but a cheap, smirking fool who'’s an amateur athlete but a professional Don Juan, and he makes the latter pay. That’s where I come in. He heard I was unapproach- able, so he made his bet. And then he began putting his arm around your shoulder, and your good looks, — he’s skirting the edge of THIS WEEK buying you drinks. And you had no more sense than to fall for it, and bring him over here. “Then he found out he couldn’t collect his bet. He couldn’t even get a suit of pajamas, or whatever they usually show to win such a bet. And that was when he began all this flirty business in front of yow, because the only chance left to him was to make you beat him up, or try to. Then, of course, he could collect, and brag, and smirk, because what other reason would you have for beating him up? That would be all the evidence anybody would need. Do you hear what I'm telling you?” There was no answer. “And now, if you're willing to talk sense, maybe I'll change my mind. Maybe I wisll do something about it after all.” *“. .. What are you going todo?” “I'm going to meet him over there for cock- tails, tomorrow afternoon. By that time I’ll know all about his bet. I'll take the trouble to find out. And then, in front of forty people, I'm going to thank him for the wonderful compliment it implies. And then I'm going to complain that he never did one thing toward winning it. Oh —I'll be very gay, don’t worry. I'll get plenty of laughs. But when I get through he’ll be red in the face, and he won’t make any more bets about me.”’ Volney crept back to his room and bed. He felt sick and frightened. The main tenor of what had been said made little impression on him. All he could think of was this revelation that his mother was young, beautiful, and desirable.’He had always thought of her as an old woman. Now he knew she was something else, and it was a shaking discovery. She slipped in, presently, to tuck him in. He pretended to be asleer. He felt her kiss him, softly; felt her lips against his. They weren't dry and old. They were damp and young. He felt her leave him, opened his eyes and peeped. She was just going out the door, and her slender figure was silhouetted against the hall light. As she slipped out, a breath of her delicate perfume blew against his face. Volney lay staring into the darkness, and it was some time before he thought of Wash, and the part he played in these disclosures. He knew all about Wash and his love affairs. He had the run of the clubhouse, and he had often come on Wash, whispering with some woman in a dark corner, or out in some glen on the golf links; indeed, sitting with Wash in his room, he had sometimes been permitted to amswer Wash's phone, and tell a lie to the lady at the other end of the line. On these occa- sions, Wash did a deal of winking, grimacing, and mumbling about how they were “enough to set a man crazy” and similar remarks. The precise concerns of these various fe- males, the reason for their troubled voices, the nature of Wash’s attitude toward them, Vol- ney didn't understand; but they seemed to stand for something bad, dangerous, and ex- citing, and therefore wholly delightful. Now, with a jolt, he realized that squarely in the center of this mystery stood his mother. And then came a freezing recollection: that queer look on Wash’s face as he had stood there, beside the bed. What was it his mother had said about “a suit of pajamas,” that had to be exhibited, to win such a bet? Volney knew now why Wash had looked that way. Maybe he had taken his mother’s pajamas, that always were folded back of her pillow, shoved them under his coat, and presently would be exhibiting them to win the bet. Then Volney remembered that his mother wore red silk pajamas, and that her suits were mono- grammed. He snapped on the light, looked at the clock. It was nearly two o’clock. He snapped off the light again, got up, dressed. His shoes in his hand, he crept downstairs and out into the kitchen. Softly he let himself out the kitchen door, sat down on the back porch to put on his shoes. Then he trotted across the lawn and up the street toward the club. He had to get those pajamas back, and get them back before Wash could make any use of them. The clubhouse was a sprawling, one-story affair, and Wash'’s room was on the far side of the east wing. Volney made his way back there, flitting from one bush to the other so as not to be seen. The light was on, and he peeped in the window. Wash was seated on the bed, peeling off his shirt. Volney looked to see if he could spy a splash of red somewhere ‘‘YOU CAN TAKE THAT KID OF YOURS HOME,"' WASH SNARLED. “AND IF HE EVER GOES NEAR MY ROOM AGAIN, I'LL GIVE THE LITTLE THIEF WHAT HE HAS COMING TO HIM! I'LL—" Magazine Section in the room, where, Wash might have thrown the pajamas aside while he was undressing. He tould see nothing. The next problem was to get Wash out of there, so he could goin and search. He left the window, walked around, entered the clubhouse the front way. The lobby was deserted, and except for the light over the desk, dark. Mr. Gregory, the night porter, blinked at him in surprise. “Volney? What are you doing here this hour of night?” “I want to see Mr. Lewis. Tell him — some- body wants to see him. They're waiting out there — by the No. 5 green.” The small woods by the No. 5 green was where Wash frequently kept some of his evening ap- pointments. “Oh.” Mr. Gregory picked up a cord, plugged into the phone board. Volney ran out, and around to the window again. Wash was at the tele- phone. In a moment he hung up and began scrambling into his clothes. Then he went out. Volney waited until he appeared outside, and headed for the golf course. Then he lifted the screen and climbed into the room. The bureau yielded nothing but shirts, - underwear, socks, neckties, handkerchiefs. The closet was stuffed with tennis dunnage; sweaters, trousers, shoes, rackets, presses, a net, shoes, and still more shoes. Volney knew all about it; it didn’t take him long to paw through it. Still no pajamas. He came out of the closet, looked about the room, then remembered Wash's trunk, always neatly stowed under the bed. He dragged it out. It was locked. He looked around for something to open it with, then remembered the staple that was attached to the strap of the tennis net. It drove down to the ground | (Continved on poge 11) !