Billings mopped his forehead. "My, but it was hot in that hole!" he exclaimed. "And that reminds me--have you seen the governor this morning? No? Well, talk about hot! _George_, but the old man was hot under the collar when I saw him just now! And he looks like he had been dropped from a shot tower! It's this case he's working on, I guess, or else it's about Francis. He's found out what _I_ knew." "Do--do you think so?" I questioned nervously. "Pretty sure," said Billings carelessly. "Fact is, he's already fixing up to send Francis to some kind of reformatory--heard him making the arrangements over the 'phone"--I was glad he didn't look at me as he rattled on--"and, by the way, the governor told me to tell _you_ not to say a _word_ to Francis--I suppose you'll understand." Understand? Oh, yes, _I_ understood! "And he said he wanted to see you." "Is--is he here?" I stammered, pulling back. "Thank goodness, no. Gone to meet Colonel Francis Kirkland--say, don't say anything about it--wants to surprise his daughter, you know. On his way to London via San Francisco--arrived at Washington a few days ago." Oh, the frump's father! Much I cared! But knowing how interested _he_ was in her, I tried to show an interest. "Colonel Francis--er--isn't his daughter named after him?" And I felt myself grow jolly red, for I remembered that _she_ had told me that about her friend as she sat on the arm of the Morris chair and in the black pajamas. "Hanged if _I_ know," said Billings carelessly. "I don't know what her name is--don't remember that I ever heard." He whistled. "Say, but did you ever see anything as stunningly pretty in your life?" I balked. By Jove, I had been doing some mild lying within the past twenty-four hours, but this was asking _too_ much! Dash me if I just could go it, that's all. But he didn't seem to notice. He slapped me on the back. "By George, Dicky, there's just the girl cut out for you, old chap--take my tip. I think she likes you, too--could see it just now when I was talking about you." So that was it, I reflected gloomily. The frump now was to be worked off on me, and I was expected to stand for it. I was to be a sort of what-you-call-it offering on the altar of friendship. _That_ was the condition upon which he was patching up things! Billings laughed suddenly. "But, oh, I tell you it would be hard on Francis--a regular knockout, by George!" Devilish brutal for him to say so, I thought. "Do you think so?" I questioned dismally. "Would Frances really care?" "Oh, yes," he said lightly. "Soon get over it, though--puppy love, you know." Puppy love, indeed! By Jove, how I hated Billings! He went on: "Suppose you never heard anything of the professor and the pajamas?" I had not, and I was devilish sick of pajamas, anyway.