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Updated: May 8, 2025
He found the bathroom on his floor locked, with sounds of leisurely splashing within. "Damn Mrs. J. F. Smith," he said. He was about to descend to the storey below, bashfully conscious of bare feet and pyjamaed shins, but looking over the banisters he saw Mrs. Schiller and the treasure-dog engaged in some household manoeuvres. The pug caught sight of his pyjama legs and began to yap.
He was wearing a white cotton nightgown of the type that has now been so extensively superseded by pyjama sleeping suits, and his legs and feet were bare and much scratched and torn and very muddy. Mr.
"Jane all right?" he asked, quickly. "Yes. How do you feel?" He reached out a hand whence her voice came. She met the hand with hers, and that seemed to be all he wanted just then. "You'd better get your bathrobe, Mr. Cleigh," she suggested. Cleigh became conscious for the first time of the condition of his pyjama jacket. It hung upon his torso in mere ribbons.
Pyjama trousers of cotton composed his entire workaday costume; dungaree trousers and a musty coat his Court dress. Yet he was clean and glowing with health and cheerfulness; self-reliant, splendidly independent. Had he allowed his mind to dwell on clothing his independence would have been less.
'Tapena Tom harry my, said the spokesman, pointing. And the three beachcombers, following his indication, saw the figure of a man in pyjama trousers and a white jumper approaching briskly from the town. 'Captain Tom is coming. 'That's Tapena Tom, is it? said the captain, pausing in his music. 'I don't seem to place the brute. 'We'd better cut, said the clerk. ''E's no good.
My theory of a round-headed knife is based on the circumstance of a portion of the deceased's pyjama jacket having been carried into the wound. A sharp-pointed knife would have made a clean cut through the jacket." "I see," said Superintendent Galloway, with a sharp nod.
"And then again this evening, sir," continued Marigold, slipping me into my pyjama jacket, "as I was starting the Major's car, who should be waiting there for him but Mr. Gedge." "Gedge?" I cried. "Yes, sir. Waiting by the side of the car. 'Can I have a word with you, Major Boyce? says he. 'No, you can't, says the Major. 'I think it's advisable, says he.
The Surgeon, pyjama clad, a crimson streak running diagonally across the lather on his cheek, suddenly appeared crawling on all-fours through the doorway of his shattered cabin. "I always said those safety-razors were rotten things," he observed ruefully. "I've just carved my initials on my face. And my ankle's broken. Have we been torpedoed, or what, at all?
Macintyre was the first of the trio to appear on deck, for, his business being in the interior of the boat, he had no special dress to don; the pyjama suit in which he had been sleeping would serve as well as any other, and he accordingly wore it.
There were a few spots of blood on the left breast, and immediately beneath, almost on the left side, just visible in the stripe of the pyjama jacket, was the blow which had caused death a small orifice like a knife cut, just over the heart. "It is a very small wound to have killed so strong a man," said Mr. Cromering. "There is hardly any blood." Sir Henry examined the wound closely.
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