He fished out a flat green box from his pocket, opened it under Brown’s nose, leaning close enough to touch Brown with an exploring and furtive elbow--and felt the contour of the automatic. Amid a smell of carbolic and camphor cones Brown beheld, pinned side by side upon the cork-lined interior of the box, two curiously pretty butterflies. Their drooping and still pliable wings seemed as thin as white tissue paper; their bodies were covered with furry hairs. Brick-red and black spots decorated the frail membrane of the wings in a curiously pleasing harmony of pattern and of colour. "Very unusual," he said, with a vague idea he was saying the wrong thing. Monotonously, paying no attention, Professor von Dresslin continued: "I, the life history of the Parnassus Apollo, haff from my early youth investigated with minuteness, diligence, and patience."--His protuberant eyes were now fixed on Brown’s rifle again.--"For many years I haff bred this Apollo butterfly from the egg, from the caterpillar, from the chrysalis. I have the negroid forms, the albino forms, the dwarf forms, the hybrid forms investigated under effery climatic condition. Notes sufficient for three volumes of quarto already exist as a residuum of my investigations----" He looked up suddenly into the American’s face--which was the first sudden movement the Herr Professor had made---- "Ach wass! Three volumes! It is nothing. Here iss material for thirty!--A lifetime iss too short to know all the secrets of a single species.... If I may inquire, sir, of what pattern is your most interesting and admirable rifle?" "A--Ross," said Brown, startled into a second’s hesitation. "So? And, if I may inquire, of what nationality iss it, a R-r-ross?" "It’s a Canadian weapon. We Americans use it a great deal for big game." "So?... And it iss also by the Canadian military employed perhaps, sir?" "I believe," said Brown, carelessly, "that the British Government has taken away the Ross rifle from the Canadians and given them the regulation weapon." "So? Permit--that I examine, sir?" Brown did not seem to hear him or notice the extended hand--blunt-fingered, hairy, persistent. The Professor, not discouraged, repeated: "Sir, _bitte darf ich_, may I be permitted?" And Brown’s eyes flashed back a lightning shaft of inquiry. Then, carelessly smiling, he passed the Ross rifle over to the Herr Professor; and, at the same time, drew toward him that gentleman’s silver-mounted weapon, and carelessly cocked it. "Permit me," he murmured, balancing it innocently in the hollow of his left arm, apparently preoccupied with admiration at the florid workmanship of stock and guard. No movement that the Herr Professor made escaped him; but presently he thought to himself--"The old dodo is absolutely unsuspicious. My nerves are out of order.... What odd eyes that Fritz has!"