Fact is, it wasn't a knot at all, but a button--a devilish glassy button, something bigger than a dime, perhaps, and thick as the end of your little finger. And there it lay against the silk, burning its way through it like a red coal of fire. Dashed if it didn't look that way, anyhow. I just sat there blinking like a jolly owl, waiting to see the stuff begin to smoke, before I had presence of mind to tell Jenkins to touch it to see if it would burn. But Jenkins wouldn't. He just stood there with his jaw hanging and his eyes bulging like champagne corks! And it was just then that Billings rolled in. I say "rolled in," because it always looks that way. That's the way Billings is built, you know. "I say, Dicky," he panted, "just missed another infernal express! Plenty more trains, but I had a great inspiration strike me that I'd let you put me up for the night. Hat, Jenkins! Now, don't say a word, Dicky, old chap. Cane, Jenkins! Great pleasure, assure you--won't inconvenience me at all. Gloves, Jenkins! Just give me something to sleep in, and I'll be as comfortable here as I would be at the club--so don't worry any about me, old chap. By the way, want to thank you for taking care of the kid. Got home all right, I understand." He plunked like a jolly elephant into the largest and most comfortable chair in the room and wheezed for breath. "And, Jenkins!" He raised one fat finger while he took a gasp. "Don't mind if I do have a package of Dicky's Koroskos and a sloe fizz--not too sweet, you know; and you may--" He halted, his eyes suddenly riveted to the table, and straightened inquiringly, his big hands poised upon the padded arms of the chair. "Suffering Thomas cats! What's that?" he exclaimed. "The scream there--flag of Morocco?" And then, without pausing for reply, he dashed on: "I say, old chap, if you're picking up those, I can get you a few for nothing. You know Higgins, cashier-that-was of the Widows' National, eh? Well, Higgins sent the governor a Morocco flag the other day from Tangier. Fact is, he sent one to every director of the bank--and an extra large one to that bank examiner!" He chuckled wabblingly, like a jolly jellyfish. "Talk about a red flag to a bull," he exploded, "why, they--" Billings broke off suddenly. Then he climbed heavily to his feet, and without warning, heaved himself across the room and seized the button I had just uncovered. Dashed if he didn't almost upset me. "Here, I say!" I protested. "Don't lose that cap." I picked it up from where he had jerked it to the floor. "It's the cover to hide that glass, you know." "Wh-a-a-t!" Billings swung round, staring at me with the most curious expression. "See here, Dicky," he exclaimed rather excitedly, but in a low tone, as he cut a side glance at Jenkins siphoning the fizz over at the cellarette. "What in thunder have you been doing now?"