thick-set man of repellent aspect and stealthy movements, who sneaked
up on you when you were not looking and did unpleasant things to you,
selecting as the time for his attacks those nights when you had allowed
your attention to wander while saying your prayers.
On such occasions it was Bill's practice to fool him by repeating his
prayers to himself in bed after the official ceremony. Some times, to
make certain, he would do this so often that he fell asleep in
mid-prayer.
He was always glad of the night-light. A germ hates light, preferring
to do his scoundrelly work when it is so black that you can't see your
hand in front of your face and the darkness presses down on you like a
blanket. Occasionally a fear would cross his mind that the night-light
might go out; but it never did, being one of Mr. Edison's best electric
efforts neatly draped with black veiling.
Apart from this he had few worries, certainly none serious enough to
keep him awake.
He was sleeping now, his head on his right arm, a sterilized Teddy-bear
clutched firmly in his other hand, with the concentration of one
engaged upon a feat at which he is an expert.
* * * * *
The door opened slowly. A head insinuated itself into the room,
furtively, as if uncertain of its welcome. The door continued to open
and Steve slipped in.
He closed the door as gently as he had opened it, and stood there
glancing about him. A slow grin appeared upon his face, to be succeeded
by an expression of serious resolve. For Steve was anxious.
It was still Steve's intention to remove, steal, purloin, and kidnap
William Bannister that night, but now that the moment had come for
doing it he was nervous.
He was not used to this sort of thing. He was an honest ex-middleweight,
not a burglar; and just now he felt particularly burglarious. The
stillness of the house oppressed him. He had not relished the long wait
between the moment of his apparent departure and that of his entry into
the nursery.
He had acted with simple cunning. He had remained talking pugilism with
Keggs in the pantry till a prodigious yawn from his host had told him
that the time was come for the breaking up of the party. Then, begging
Keggs not to move, as he could find his way out, he had hurried to the
back door, opened and shut it, and darted into hiding. Presently Keggs,
yawning loudly, had toddled along the passage, bolted the door, and
made his way upstairs to bed, leaving Steve to his vigil.
Steve's reflections during this period had not been of the pleasantest.
Exactly what his explanation was to be, if by any mischance he should
make a noise and be detected, he had been unable to decide. Finally he
had dismissed the problem as insoluble, and had concentrated his mind
on taking precautions to omit any such noise.
So far he had succeeded. He had found his way to the nursery easily
enough, having marked the location earnestly on his previous visits.
During the whole of his conversation with Keggs in the pantry he had
been repeating to himself the magic formula which began: "First
staircase to the left, turn to the right......-" and here he was now at
his goal and ready to begin.
But it was just this question of beginning which exercised him so
grievously. How was he to begin? Should he go straight to the cot and
wake the kid? Suppose the kid was scared and let out a howl?
A warm, prickly sensation about the forehead was Steve's silent comment
on this reflection. He took a step forward and stopped again. He was
conscious of tremors about the region of the spine. The thought crossed
his mind at that moment that burglars earned their money.
As he stood, hesitating, his problem was solved for him. There came a
heavy sigh from the direction of the cot which made him start as if a
pistol had exploded in his ear; and then he was aware of two large eyes
staring at him.
There was a tense pause. A drop of perspiration rolled down his
cheek-bone and anchored itself stickily on the angle of his jaw. It
tickled abominably, but he did not dare to move for fear of unleashing
the scream which brooded over the situation like a cloud.
At any moment now a howl of terror might rip the silence and bring the
household on the run. And then, the explanations! A second drop of
perspiration started out in the wake of the first.
The large eyes continued to inspect him. They were clouded with sleep.
Suddenly a frightened look came into them, and, as he saw it, Steve
braced his muscles for the shock.
"Here it comes!" he said miserably to himself. "Oh, Lord! We're off!"
He searched in his brain for speech, desperately, as the best man at a
wedding searches for that ring while the universe stands still, waiting
expectantly.
He found no speech.
The child's mouth opened. Steve eyed him, fascinated. No bird,
encountering a snake, was ever so incapable of movement as he.
"Are you a germ?" inquired William Bannister.
Steve tottered to the cot and sat down on it. The relief was too much
for him.
"Gee, kid!" he said, "you had my goat then. I've got to hand it to
you."
His sudden approach had confirmed William Bannister's worst suspicions.
This was precisely how he had expected the germ to behave. He shrank
back on the pillow, gulping.
"Why, for the love of Mike," said Steve, "don't you know me, kid? I'm
not a porch-climber. Don't you remember Steve who used to raise Hades
with you at the studio? Darn it, I'm your godfather! I'm Steve!"
William Bannister sat up, partially reassured.
"What's Steve?" he inquired.
"I'm Steve."
"Why?"
"How do you mean, why?"
The large eyes inspected him gravely.
"I remember," he said finally.
"Well, don't go forgetting, kid. I couldn't stand a second session like
that. I got a weak heart."
"You're Steve."
"That's right. Stick to that and we'll get along fine."
"I thought you were a germ."
"A what?"
"They get at you and hurt you."
"Who said so?"
"Mamie."
"Are you scared of germs?"
The White Hope nodded gravely.
"I have to be sterilized because of them. Are you sterilized?"
"Nobody ever told me so. But, say, kid, you don't want to be frightened
of germs or microbes or bacilli or any of the rest of the circus. You
don't want to be frightened of nothing. You're the White Hope, the
bear-cat that ain't scared of anything on earth. What's this germ thing
like, anyway?"
"It's a......I've never seen one, but Mamie says they get at you and hurt
you. I think it's a kind of big sort of ugly man that creeps in when
you're asleep."
"So that's why you thought I was one?"
The White Hope nodded.
"Forget it!" said Steve. "Mamie is a queen, all right, believe me, but
she's got the wrong dope on this microbe proposition. You don't need to
be scared of them any more. Why, some of me best pals are germs."
"What's pals?"
"Why, friends. You and me are pals. Me and your pop are pals."
"Where's pop?"
"He's gone away."
"I remember."
"He thought he needed a change of air. Don't you ever need a change of
air?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you do. Take it from me. This is about the punkest joint I ever
was in. You don't want to stay in a dairy-kitchen like this."
"What's dairy-kitchen?"
"This is. All these white tiles and fixings. It makes me feel like a
pint of milk to look at 'em."
"It's because of the germs."
"Ain't I telling you the germs don't want to hurt you?"