That evening while Seth Bissett and Warren Sours with a number of their associates were enjoying their evening dip, a hooked stick slowly reached out from the nearby shrubbery, and having become attached to one of the many articles of wearing apparel lying on the grass, drew it gently into the bushes. After a moment it was restored in the same way and another article taken. After this had gone on for some time the stick disappeared and was seen no more.
When the swimmers came out of the water at the approach of darkness it was apparent that something had gone wrong. An aroma that could not be wholly disregarded made known its undesirable presence. At first it seemed to be located somewhere about the grass plot, but as they finished dressing and started for home they discovered that it was apparently everywhere.
On the way Seth Bissett tarried for a friendly chat at the gate of a certain young lady, but found her unusually distant. So much so that in spite of his innocence of the cause, he deemed it prudent not to prolong his visit. Warren Sours went home; and as he entered the house with a jocular remark about the contaminated state of the atmosphere he was informed that until his arrival it had been quite satisfactory. Retirement to the stable followed; and with the aid of a lantern he finally found in each of his hip pockets a pasty smear, that from the presence of a small piece of tinfoil in addition to certain other deductions, he took to be the remnants of a piece of superannuated limburger cheese. Further evidences were found inside his hatband, and under the innersole of each of his shoes, but not until several days later.
Subsequent inquiry developed that none of the persons at the pool that night had been spared, although no two were attacked in the same place. Two days elapsed before Seth Bissett found a thin layer of the "dreadful" inside the lining of his favorite necktie, and in the meantime he had nearly hated himself to death. It was a week before Chuck Smith located a smear in the back of his watchcase, and during all that time he was haunted by a suspicion that he was no longer good company for man or beast. After changing his entire wardrobe several times in an effort to forget that fatal swim, Bob Beach found when he had occasion to use his purse a few days later that all his money, though honestly earned, had become badly tainted.