Delphi complete works of.., p.277
Delphi Complete Works of Thorne Smith (Illustrated), page 277
“Down, Mist’ Henry, down!” Nokashima pushed the eager bloodhound away from the sizzling skillet and hastened to produce the bottle of brandy. It was old and mellow, and it had the look of belonging in an inn in Normandy on a cold midnight, when the innkeeper, maids, and attendants gathered round the kitchen.
“What’s Spray doing?” inquired Kippie eagerly. “I thought she liked brandy too.”
“She does, you young hound,” responded his uncle, “which is all the more reason for you to confine your thoughts to yourself. I’d hate to think of letting you loose with Spray Summers in her present state. As though I hadn’t enough troubles. Did you ever think, young man, that you ought to get married and settle down?”
“What brings that up?” asked Kippie. “You got married, but I never noticed that you settled down. The fact is, I suspect there’s been a lot more going on around here tonight than anyone knows.”
“We haven’t been around here much tonight,” Major Jaffey defended his host. “We’ve been out riding and all sorts of things.”
“Yeah,” said Hal, “you’d be surprised if you knew all the places we’ve been and the things we’ve done.”
Kippie preferred the main line of discourse. He accepted a brandy from Nokashima, who passed drinks to the others as well.
“Suppose, then,” the young man countered, “if you want me to settle down, that I ask you for Spray Summers’ hand?”
“That would be a hell of a note,” rejoined his uncle.
“Seems perfectly proper to me. She’s a lifelong acquaintance of yours, sort of a friend of the family, as it were. You could give her away.”
“How could she tell us apart?” parried the older man.
“There’re ways — we’re not twins.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I hope we’re not. You could just as well be your own nephew. That would make you completely backwards.”
“I am now, but what I want to know is, why should you think you’d like to marry Spray Summers?”
“Because she’s a nice girl.”
“I can see that everything’s different,” objected Rex. “That was certainly never the reason I was attracted to her.”
“Oh, well, she’s changed.”
“She couldn’t change that much. Besides, I have reason to believe differently.”
“Supposing I were to get older, could I marry her then?”
“Not without my consent.”
“But if you’re where you were twenty years ago, you don’t know whether I have your consent or not. You aren’t yourself. You’re what you used to be.”
Rex Pebble saw that it was time to put a stop to this harangue. “I can see that you’re where you be, and apparently always will be — standing beside a bottle. Don’t try confuse me any more than I am. That is, unless you can relieve my mind of that overdraft account.”
“That’s the great disadvantage, remarked Kippie sagely, “that you grow backwards in everything but difficulties. Maybe you can find a pool that turns bonds into gold.”
“Give Mr. Kippie some hot food, Nokashima,” instructed the young man’s uncle, “and let’s see if we can’t stop the flow of his thoughts. I’m going out for some air.”
Rex Pebble strode out onto the veranda. It was queer, he thought, that one’s necessities should be so insatiable. Here, by a gentle miracle of a prankish and beneficent stone figure, the one person dearest to him in the world was restored to her youth and the ripe physical beauty that had caught him up in passion in his younger years, and yet he wasn’t satisfied. First there was in his mind the vision of Sue Pebble, his wife, as she looked at the lovely Spray with jealous envy in her eyes. Sue had not been a bad wife to him, in spite of her frequent flirtations and her stormy temperament. Certainly Rex had lived for more than twenty years in the same house with Sue, and that was something he had not done with Spray, for all her charm. It worked both ways. Seeing Spray in the evenings, when women are able by artificial charms and the conspiracy of nature to appear most glamorous, had added to her attractions, kept them perennially stirring to the man. Seeing Sue in the daylight, with the white glaring atmosphere of practicality about her, had taken away from her feminine appeal and had added to her reassuring stability. He felt sorry for Sue that she should be so unfortunately placed in the all too penetrating spotlight of everyday life. She had been robbed of a part of her woman’s heritage. Rex Pebble felt on the point of tears. He felt sorry for himself too. For here, with Spray restored to him, and himself, too, young again, and with a new feeling toward Sue, the unhappy business of money had shown its ugly head.
It was at moments like this, when the world seemed pitch black and without point, that Nokashima seldom failed to appear to comfort his boss. The Japanese appeared now.
“Mist’ Kippie and Mist’ Henry fed and bottled,” he announced. “Good idea catch breath of air on lawn. Just hear noise in upper story also — feel safer outdoors.”
“You’re right,” agreed Rex Pebble, “I was afraid of that. It’s much safer outdoors. What are they doing?” Rex glanced toward the upper floors of his mistress’s home. Something very queer was going on. Lights were flashing here and there, as though someone were running from room to room, switching them on and off. “Is somebody playing tag?” asked Rex.
“Sounds as of great whoopee. Loud manly answered screams. Have idea Miss Baggage on loose,” answered the wise little man. “Also Miss Spray and honorable wife up to old tricks.”
“You mean they’re having an argument over, me?”
“Cannot tell subject, but quite plenty redhot, boss. It appear much hair- pulling.”
“Well, I think I’ll just take a little pull at that bottle you so thoughtfully brought along, my good fellow,” said Rex, relieving Nokashima of his pet. “This is good stuff, indoors or out, with wife or mistress, at home or abroad.” Rex, who had not indulged deeply during the entire adventurous evening, took a long drag and smacked his lips. “We ought to think of a nice game ourselves,” he suggested. “You and I ought to get together and play something. We never have.”
“What shall it be, boss?” asked Nokashima, whose chief charm, perhaps, was the complete readiness with which he embraced any new suggestion of adventure or diversion. “Leapfrog?”
“I’m afraid I might hurt you,” said Rex, “and then again you might hurt me. I don’t trust that jujitsu.”
“Me no jujitsu artist,” Nokashima declared, “just humble Japanese fellow anxious to play. Suppose call Mist’ Henry. He always ready to play, too.”
“O.K.!” said Rex Pebble, “get the hound. One bloodhound more or less can’t hurt.” Rex chased his first brandy with another quick one. The tempo and warmth of his s blood was pleasantly speedy. “Here, Nocka, let’s see you toss one off. That’s the first requirement for a really good game of any kind.”
“Here goes!” Nocka held up the brandy bottle. A shiver raced over his small, sturdy frame. “Hot stuff that. Make plenty warm belly. Very comforting. Hi, Mist’ Henry,” the man called in his peculiar way, ending in a low, tempting whistle that could not have been duplicated by another human being. His mouth was large and usually fixed in an irrepressible grin that produced in the whistle a quality of escaping steam, which wound up in a surprisingly sharp note of command. A racing figure hesitated uncertainly just outside the door to the veranda, while a screen door slammed shut.
“Mist’ Henry very smart dog, even when honorable battery recharged. Not silly. Very sensible bloodhound with new acquired smell.”
“Let’s hide from him,” proposed Rex boyishly. “I think I can get behind that tree.”
Let it be said for Rex that he tried to get behind the tree. The trouble was’ that the tree would not get in front of Rex. It wobbled and wavered and behaved in a fashion totally unprecedented in Rex’s memory. Mr. Henry, entering gayly into the spirit of the chase, was dangerously near, seeming to prefer the scent of Rex to Nokashima’s more obvious smell, lurking beside the stone veranda steps. Rex Pebble helped himself to a short choke of brandy before attempting again to cope with the tree. Hoping to appease the thing and make an ally of it, he offered the tree a swallow of brandy in a low tone. The tree continued to dance but refused to accept the man’s hospitality. Wherewith Rex dashed a small slosh of brandy against its trunk and silently christened it the Sally Rand. “Stop it, Sally,” whispered the husky male voice, “you make me dizzy, and how can you expect me to find coverage in a game of hide-and-seek behind such a whirling dervish?”
The tree was utterly obstinate. It would not hold still. Rex grew quickly disgusted, as Mr. Henry appeared to get hotter and hotter on the scent. The man lunged from behind the tree and sought the protection of some near-by bushes. These two were addicted to the dance, but in a much smoother, more classic sort of way. They held hands gracefully and loped about like the figures of a Greek frieze. It was not so hard to conceal oneself behind them or in them. The bushes, however, did have very sticky fingers, and they kept pricking Rex here and there most irritatingly. “Behave,” growled the man fiercely, “or I’ll not give you a drop of brandy, not a single little drop. I won’t even baptize you, and how you’d like to go all your life unbaptized? Just imagine, no name, no nothing. By the way, are you all sisters, or am I seeing more of one family than there really is? To think that I’ve been in and out of here all these years and never knew what charming neighbors we had.”
Mr. Henry, dashing up and enthusiastically licking Mr. Pebble’s hands and face, cut short this monologue, while Nokashima stepped forth rather unsteadily from hiding and suggested that another game would not be amiss.
“You it,” he told Rex.
“Don’t be cryptic,” replied his playmate. “I it — what do you mean?”
“Just that — you it.”
“Haven’t you any verbs?” Rex interrogated sharply. “Can’t explain,” said Nokashima thickly. “You tell him, Mist’ Henry. Tell him he it.”
“Stop it!” commanded Mr. Pebble. “This is the worst language I have ever heard. I’m surprised at you. You could curse me out with words like that, and I wouldn’t know the difference. What are your antecedents?”
“Got no ant’cedents, however, nevertheless,” said Nocka. “Very simple. We play game now.”
“Not till I get it straight. Explain it this way: Suppose there were four of us playing?”
“Me tell him tell them tell you you it.”
“Impossible!” exploded Rex. “You’re either a genius or rapidly descending into the moronic stage. Do you always go after the pronouns when you have drinks, Nocka?”
“If good-looking,” admitted Nokashima, “especially fond just plain she. No it. Lady them best of all.”
Rex sighed heavily. More and more it seemed useless to try to understand; yet the man evidently had something in his mind. “Well, supposing I consent, what do we do next?”
“Absorb small drink,” said Nokashima quickly, his eyes gleaming. “Very intoxicating evening. Stimulating to all concerned. Most enjoyable part of evening now in progress for unspeakable Japanese man. Great fun at games.” Nokashima interrupted his flow of bouquets long enough to take a good firm hold on the brandy and pour a fiery trickle down his throat. “Hot dog, let’s go!” he cried.
“What shall we play now, you insatiable Oriental athlete?” asked Rex Pebble of the diminutive man, who danced round him in glee, rubbing his stomach happily with both hands.
“Now we skip steps,” said Nocka.
“Yes, Nocka, I know,” answered Rex sympathetically, “I’ve skipped steps too, but I never tried it as a pastime. However, nothing ventured, nothing learned.” He followed Nokashima to the steps.
“Oh, infinite more humor, boss, to skip steps. I begin,” and with a pleased expression in his tiny eyes Nokashima flew up and down the steps on nimble feet, skipping to the tune of a very weird chant that only Nocka, and maybe God, knew.
To Rex Pebble this demonstration of the crazy little fellow was the last straw. He felt himself slipping, his poise seemed to have vanished, and with a last effort he pulled himself together to call for a drink. As always, the magic word brought Nokashima to his senses and his shaker, in this case a brandy bottle.
“Watch me,” said Rex, standing on the top step of four, “with a running start I bet I can stop before I get to the water. Wait, though,” the man added, “suppose you go get a watch and we’ll time each other. We’ll have races. Mr. Henry can hold the watch.”
“O.K.,” said Nocka agreeably. I go get timepiece.” Nokashima hurried on unsteady legs into the house. Left alone, Rex Pebble felt the gayety of the games slipping away from him. His forehead was warm and moist. Instead of four steps there seemed to be eight, instead of one tree there seemed to be two. It was nice, anyway, he calculated, that things worked out so evenly. Just double of everything. That was fine. He wondered if there were two bottles of brandy instead of one, and indeed there were. Not only two bottles, but just twice the amount of brandy as in the one bottle. Rex began to speculate as to how this other bottle of brandy might taste. Would it be different, or would it taste the same, and if he drank out of the one, would it reduce the amount in the other? It waa a charming speculation that left room for a great many discoveries. If there were one Spray Summers now, that would mean two — only the disadvantage would be that his wife, Sue Pebble, also would be multiplied by two. Which would mean that the fight between the two women would be twice as fierce and, also, alas, if Rex’s overdraft were now $25,000, under the present system of computation, that would mean a deficit of $50,000.
It was all very distressing. Rex began to feel that he couldn’t stand it. If under normal conditions it would take Nokashima two minutes to find a watch, this would mean four minutes before he could return and the happy games be resumed. Rex began greatly to feel the need of water on his forehead. He decided to take a chance on reducing the amount of brandy, which was now double, and lifting the two bottles with both hands, drank with both mouths.
Well, at least it was consoling to think that he had four legs to walk on. This happy thought produced a decision. Rex looked toward the inviting waters of the pool. A little dip would do him good, he thought. On all four legs he began to gallop to the edge. His forefeet were over the side and touching the water before he remembered that there was something strange and magic about this small body of water, something that had brought him new youth and vigor and that might very likely handle him roughly if indulged in too liberally. It was too late, however, to stop. He plunged into the gratefully cooling waters and waited curiously to see what might happen.
What did happen was most shocking. A contracting sensation overtook the man, shook his frame with short spasms as though he were being pushed bodily into a hot-water bottle that was too tight for him. He underwent a brief siege of choking, his eyes blurred as though with fever.
With rapidly diminishing strength Rex beat back the water. He tried breast and crawl strokes and then a general sort of floundering, but it was easy to perceive that something very unusual was taking place within him. Either he was losing his strength altogether to some unknown inner tax of power, or else, perhaps, the magic pool was busy doing its stuff again. Rex Pebble began to grow alarmed. With the greatest difficulty he managed to keep his head above the surface of the water. He raised his voice to call Nokashima, but nothing happened. Rex had yelled, and he had heard nothing. He cleared his throat and took a fresh start.
“Nokashima,” he screamed, and as though from afar, strange and unfamiliar as the voice of a babe, he caught a minute sound: Nokashima! Rex was very quiet. This was terrible. He couldn’t make a sound. Suppose he should drown? But the water couldn’t be that deep; no one could possibly drown in Spray Summers’ handsomely landscaped garden pool. A man would have to be an utter fool, holding his head under, to do that. Rex looked down at the glistening surface.
What he observed, floating like jelly beneath the silver surface, was something to startle a city editor. This time Rex could not believe his eyes. The brandy was no good. Too bad to spoil a nice evening this way; it had started out so glamorously, so memorably, and now here he was, whisky and highballs and gin and brandy, imagining the oddest things about his own silly body reflected in a garden pool. Rex summoned his courage and endeavored to take a realistic view of the whole matter. He glanced down into the water, and what he saw this time made him start in amazement and chagrin. Eyes may be bad reporters the first time you send them out, but the second, they have to tell the truth; and the truth was cruel. Rex Pebble put all the lung command into one mighty screech for Nokashima. Across the lawn came the piercing cry of an infant. There was no doubt of the horrifying truth; Rex Pebble ducked his head under water. It popped up again in shame and mortification. Where only a few moments before had been the whipcord, vigorous, handsome form of a young man was now the sprawling body of a baby. “Oh, my God!” murmured the strange infant, then howled aloud again for its faithful Japanese follower.
Nokashima, hastening on nimble but uncertain feet into the garden with a watch for the impending races, was bewildered at the disappearance of his employer. There was not a sign of the man in sight. No bottle, no coat, no trace of him anywhere. Even Mr. Henry had vanished. Nocka unsteadily beat around the bushes, and then, remembering Rex’s penchant for hiding behind trees, began to startle imaginary playmates by dodging around and crying hi! wherever he went. Anyone watching the fellow would have thought him utterly stark, raving mad. Liquor has its novel effects, but the game which Nokashima seemed to be playing with himself was gone about in a spirit of absolutely logical insanity.
Nevertheless, no tree yielded Rex Pebble. Nocka grew uneasy. What could boss have done with self? He cogitated. Nocka felt sure the master had been having a very fine time when he had left only a few minutes before, and it was totally out of keeping with his character for him entirely to abandon an object while in his cups. Nocka counted off on his fingers various improbabilities: Rex had not run away; he had not hidden playfully anywhere on the lawn; he certainly had not gone indoors, for Nocka had just come from the house through the only door that opened onto the veranda. The Japanese was genuinely disturbed and puzzled.
