"Impossible! And yet, it is, it is!" he muttered. "I would know the weave among a thousand. It is hers undoubtedly, undoubtedly--the lost silk of Si-Ling-Chi! How comes it here?" He glared around rather wildly at each of us in turn. Without waiting for a reply, he whisked back to the pajamas, and fishing out a thick magnifying lens, scrutinized the garments closely. It seemed that he would certainly nod his big head off its jolly hinge; and his quick side glances at Billings and myself, together with his growling and muttering, just reminded me of a dog with a bone, by Jove! I stared at Billings and Billings stared at me, and then he slipped over to the divan upon which I dropped, completely exhausted, dash it, from standing so long. "_Whose_ did he say?" he whispered. "Celia something," I answered. "Dash it, I didn't catch her surname. Oh, I say, you know, this is _awful_!" I felt devilish mortified. Wondered what Frances might think, you know. Billings drew in his lips and wagged his head ominously. He waved me nearer. "He's on," he breathed behind his hand; "he's looking for her laundry mark. Now, wouldn't that feaze you?" An exclamation of triumph from the professor, another glance at us, and a hoarser and more prolonged mutter. I shifted uneasily. By Jove, I didn't like it at all! Billings looked at me in consternation. "I wouldn't be in your shoes, Dicky," he whispered. "You'll be pinched for this, sure." "Oh, I say, now! I tell you, a friend in China--" Billings shrugged impatiently. "Just a plant, you chowder head," he said, viewing me pityingly. "I tell you that's how all these blackmailing schemes are worked. You ought to be more careful." "But, dash it, I don't even know her, this Celia what's-her-name," I protested miserably. If Frances' brother thought that way, what would _she_ think? "Um! Maybe you don't, but they'll expect you to say that, anyhow. You're up against it, old chap; the professor here evidently knows her and he knows her pajamas--relative, probably." By Jove, I felt a little faint! "It will be all over New York to-morrow," continued Billings gloomily. "Your picture and hers will be in the extras." Out of the professor's mutterings we caught a random sentence. "Found, found again," we heard him say. "Hers beyond peradventure of a doubt. I am _not_ mistaken." Billings rose, and his beckoning finger summoned me to a corner of the room. "This is going to cost you a pot of money, Dicky," he said with a serious air, "to say nothing of the scandal. My advice is, try buying him off--best thing in the long run. I'll feel him for you." Nodding solemnly to me he cleared his voice. "H'm! I say, Professor." The professor, with his eye glued to the lens and the lens to the silk, turned slowly about. "H'm!" began Billings. "The--h'm--articles you have there--you recognize where they are from--eh?" "Of course," he snapped, without looking up.