"Pain? I did not speak of the physical consequences. They were too terrible to discuss. I--" The pajamas dropped from his hands and his eyes took on that somewhere-else, far-off look, don't you know. "Sort of 'third degree' work, Professor?" Billings prodded him. The professor did not reply. His long, slim fingers swept his forehead for an instant and he looked away again, his little eyes dilated. Somehow it made one feel devilish uncomfortable, dash it! Billings cocked his eye at me and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Then he deliberately kicked at the tabouret and sent its brass fixture set clattering noisily across the room. The professor shivered, compressed his lips and blinked at us. "Your pardon, gentlemen," he observed in some confusion. "Some one was asking me--" "What they did to you when you lift--I mean when you lost the--er--loot." He stared, shivered again and returned to the pajamas, muttering an almost inaudible reply. We caught a word or two: "Long imprisonment--much physical pain--unspeakable things--do not like to think of it--I--" His eyes closed. He folded his long, thin arms shudderingly. Billings and I sat very still. The professor's voice came as from far away: "I could tell you of some experiences in China and in Tibet," he murmured. "Perhaps I--some other time--such horrible details, I--" He leaned heavily upon the table with both hands. His head dropped forward an instant. "No matter _now_," he muttered. "It was long, long ago!" CHAPTER XIX THE SPELL OF THE PAJAMAS "George!" breathed Billings, breaking a curious, tense silence. The professor suddenly faced us, holding up the pajamas with a gesture of inquiry. "From a friend of Mr. Lightnut's in China," Billings explained. Aside, he whispered hurriedly: "Don't say a word about the rubies! You heard him--murder, grand larceny or arson--it's all one to the old gazabe! Anybody can see that. He doesn't let little things like those stand in the way of getting what he wants!" He frowned warningly. "H'm! In the neck, Professor--I mean inside the collar," he said, approaching the table--"there's some kind of freak lettering. Looks foolish to me." The professor looked perplexed. "I mean, looks like it was done by some one who was batty--had wheels, you know; probably some chink whose biscuit was drifty," floundered Billings. "_You_ understand!" The professor didn't. I knew that jolly well by the way he cocked his head on one side, standing like a puzzled crow, don't you know. "Ha! I fear I do not as I should," he said with an apologetic cough. "Perhaps I do not intelligently and logically follow your deductions because your premises are inscrutable until I have seen the lettering. Ah!" Out came glasses and lens again and he bent over the collar eagerly.