"None of your sarcasm, Mr. Dart." Then soberly: "Truly, Sherm, I know I'm a lot older. Things seem so different to me." "I know you are, too, Lady Jane. I was only teasing you." They had a beautiful half hour among the Captain's treasures. Sherm gloated especially over the prints--their wonderful composition and soft color. "Say, the Japs know a thing or two, don't they? That wouldn't be my idea of what to put into a picture, but it's awfully satisfying." He held the print off and closed one eye to see the outlines more vividly. "Sherm, you surely were intended for an artist." Chicken Little had gone on to the drawer below. "Oh, Sherm, I believe this is the drawer the Captain didn't show me before. Do you suppose he wants us to go through it?" "He said all of them. What's in it?" "Oh, sashes and scarfs and things. I thought maybe they used to belong to his wife." Sherm lifted a Roman scarf of crimson and yellow and rich blue, and examined it admiringly. "It doesn't look as if this had ever been worn. I guess he wouldn't have told us to go ahead if there had been anything here he didn't want us to find. Say, Chicken Little, this would look dandy on you. Here, I'm going to fix you up for Captain Clarke to see." Sherm shook out the glowing silken folds and proceeded to wreathe the scarf around Chicken Little's head, turban fashion. Her brown eyes glowed and the color in her cheeks grew deeper, as she met the admiration in Sherm's eyes. He was staring at her, enchanted at the result of his efforts. Jane moved restlessly. "Hold still there, can't you? I want to try it another way. Didn't I see one of those sleeveless jacket affairs in there?" Jane rummaged and brought to light a crimson silk Turkish jacket embroidered in gold thread. She noticed that it, too, seemed perfectly fresh. "Sherm, I do wonder how Captain Clarke happened to buy all these woman's things. Do you suppose he bought them for his wife and she was dead when he got home with them?" "I wonder. Perhaps we oughtn't to be handling them. See all those queer beads, and there's a bracelet! Isn't it a beauty? See, it is like silver lace. I guess those blue stones must be turquoises." "Isn't it dainty? That must be the filigree work we read about." Sherm was staring thoughtfully at the contents of the drawer. "One thing sure," he muttered, "he must have thought a heap of her." Chicken Little had continued exploring. "Here's a photograph and two locks of hair in a little frame. Oh, Sherm, it's her! Yes, it must be, this is the same baby. I wonder why he doesn't have this on his bureau, too." Sherm took the picture and stared at it so long that Jane grew impatient. "What is it, Sherm? What's the matter?" Sherm started, passing his hand over his forehead and eyes as if he were dazed. "Funny, the face seems sort of familiar. I had such a queer feeling about it for a minute."