"He's there!" I whispered, in an awed voice to the others.
"Courage, Miss Case! Try not to faint."
Jones turned and looked at her with that same odd expression; then he
went over to where she stood and coolly passed one arm around her waist.
"Try not to faint, Mildred," he said. "It might muss your hair."
It was a strange thing to say, but I had no time then to analyze it, for
I had seized the fat foot which partly protruded from under the sofa,
clad in a low-cut congress gaiter and a white sock.
And then _I_ nearly fainted, for instead of the dreadful, inert
resistance of lifeless clay, the foot wriggled and tried to kick at me.
"Help!" came a thin but muffled voice. "Help! Help, in the name of
Heaven!"
"Boomly!" I cried, scarcely believing my ears.
"Take that man away, Smith!" whimpered Boomly. "He's a devil! He'll
murder me! He made my nose bleed all over everything!"
"Boomly! You're _not_ dead!"
"Yes, I am!" he whined. "I'm dead enough to suit me. Keep that little
lunatic off--that's all I ask. He can have his Carnegie medal for all
I care, only tie him up somewhere--"
"Professor Boomly!" cried Mildred excitedly.
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