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Updated: June 29, 2025
"And I'm no hand at guessing riddles," I groaned half aloud. Mrs. Klopton came over promptly and put a cold cloth on my forehead. "Euphemia," she said to some one outside the door, "telephone the doctor that he is still rambling, but that he has switched from green ribbons to riddles." "There's nothing the matter with me, Mrs. Klopton," I rebelled. "I was only thinking out loud.
Klopton, a very worthy woman, so labeled and libeled because of a ferocious pair of eyes and what McKnight called a bucaneering nose. I quietly closed the door into the hall. "Keep your voice down, Richey," I said. "She is looking for the evening paper to see if it is going to rain. She has my raincoat and an umbrella waiting in the hall."
Confound that cloth: it's trickling all over me!" I gave it a fling, and heard it land with a soggy thud on the floor. "Thinking out loud is delirium," Mrs. Klopton said imperturbably. "A fresh cloth, Euphemia." This time she held it on with a firm pressure that I was too weak to resist.
I was pretty far gone when I stumbled out of a cab almost into the scandalized arms of Mrs. Klopton. In fifteen minutes I was in bed, with that good woman piling on blankets and blistering me in unprotected places with hot-water bottles. And in an hour I had a whiff of chloroform and Doctor Williams had set the broken bone.
Klopton brewing strange drinks that came in paper packets from the pharmacy, and that smelled to heaven, I remember staggering to the door and closing it, and then going back to bed and howling out the absurdity and the madness of the whole thing.
Klopton, who sat, fully attired, by the night light, reading Science and Health. "Does that book say anything about opening the windows on a hot night?" I suggested, when I had got my bearings. She put it down immediately and came over to me. If there is one time when Mrs. Klopton is chastened and it is the only time it is when she reads Science and Health. "I don't like to open the shutters, Mr.
Klopton in the lower hall, holding out an armful of such traveling impedimenta as she deemed essential, while beside her, Euphemia, the colored housemaid, grinned over a white-wrapped box. "Awfully sorry-no time-back Sunday," I panted over my shoulder. Then the door closed and the car was moving away. McKnight bent forward and stared at the facade of the empty house next door as we passed.
The roof of the empty house adjoined mine along the back wing, but investigation showed that the trap-door across the low dividing wall was bolted underneath. There was nothing out of the ordinary anywhere, and so I assured Mrs. Klopton. Needless to say, I did not tell her that I had left the trap-door open, to see if it would improve the temperature of the house.
Klopton came in just as the clock struck one, and made preparation for the night by putting a large gaudy comfortable into an arm-chair in the dressing-room, with a smaller, stiff-backed chair for her feet.
"The notes are gone, Rich," I said, as quietly as I could. In spite of himself his face fell. "I of course I expected it," he said. "But Mrs. Klopton said over the telephone that you had brought home a grip and I hoped well, Lord knows we ought not to complain. You're here, damaged, but here." He lifted his glass. "Happy days, old man!"
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