With his hand he swept up the little caps and the long, wirelike threads that held them and sniffed the handful curiously.

"H'm! Funky sort of aromatic smell--balsam, cedar oil or something like that," he muttered half aloud. "That accounts for the preservation. But still--"

He crossed his legs and puffed thoughtfully.

"Tell you how I figure this out, d.i.c.ky," he said finally. "These nighties your friend has sent you are awfully rare and old; and for delicate, dainty elegance and that sort of thing they've got everything else in the silk way shoved off the clothes-line. But as to these jewels, you can just bet all you've got that whoever pa.s.sed them on was not wise to them being under these covers."

Here he got to looking at one of the b.u.t.tons and murmuring his admiration--regular trance, you know.

"By Jove!" I remarked, just to stir him up a bit. And he unloaded a great funnel of smoke and continued:

"My theory is that during some danger, some mandarins' war, likely, somebody got cold feet about these jewels and roped them in with these bits of silk--see how different they are from the rest of the stuff!

Then, when the roughhouse came, these pajamas were swept along in the sacking--sort of spoils of pillage, you know. It was a clever method of concealment--clever because simple--a hiding place unlikely to be thought of because right under the eye. You recall Poe's story of _The Purloined Letter_?"

I tried to remember. "Can't say I do, dear boy," I had to admit. "Don't seem to place that one. Only one I remember hearing him tell is that one he brought back from Paris. Let me see--_The Story of the Lonely Lobster_, I think he called it." I chortled delightedly as it came back to me. "By Jove, that was devilish neat! Don't know when I've ever heard--"

An offensive remark by Billings interrupted me.

"Here, d.i.c.ky, d.i.c.ky, what do you think you're talking about?" he added rudely. Evidently his mind had wandered from the subject. So I replied with dignity--dignity, with just a touch of sarcasm:

"Pogue--'Mickey' Pogue of our club. Perhaps you don't know Mickey Pogue?" And, by Jove, that fetched him! He stared at me a moment, and then, getting up, he reached over and solemnly shook me by the hand.

"d.i.c.ky," he said, wagging his head, "I apologize. You take the _brioche_!" And he turned his back a second.

I asked Billings how much he thought one of the rubies was worth. I had in mind how devilish hungrily he had looked at them. But he sighed, then frowned and answered impatiently:

"That's it! That's the trouble about all the rare and beautiful things of this life! Always some debasing, prohibitive sordid money value, dammit!"

He squinted at the stones again and let the weight of one rest upon his finger. He shook his head, sighing.

"Well, they're over twenty carats each, and therefore, of course, many times the value of first water diamonds. After you get above five carats with real Oriental rubies, diamonds are not in it."

With an abrupt gesture he pushed the things away and rose. His pipe had gone out, but I noticed that he did not relight it. I held the gems full in the rays of the lamp, and Billings paused, holding a hungry gaze over his shoulder.

"I say, Billings, how much did you say one was worth?" I asked carelessly. For a moment he did not reply, but muttered to himself.

"I didn't say," he finally replied, and rather crossly. Then he whirled on me impulsively. "See here, Lightnut," he exclaimed, "if you'll let me have one of those for my collection, I'll give you twenty-five thousand for it--there!"

He gulped and continued:

"I'll have to make some sacrifices, but I don't mind that. I--"

But I shook my head. Really, I could hardly keep from laughing in his face.

"Sorry! Can't see it, old chap," I said. "Wouldn't sell one of them at any price."

Billings gulped again. "I suppose not; don't blame you. Way you're fixed, you don't have to." He walked slowly to the window and back.

"Take my advice, d.i.c.ky, and get those fire coals into your safe deposit vault first thing in the morning. h.e.l.lo, you're cutting them off! That's wise."

For with the knife he had left on the table I was cutting away the tough threads that held the rubies. I cut off the second and fourth, leaving the first ruby at the collar and the other two alternates.

"Go on," said Billings, as I laid down the knife. "You've only removed two."

"Don't believe I'll cut off any more," I said. "Want you to help me tie up the others just as they were."

"What!"

I insisted. And though Billings protested and argued and even called me names, we did as I said.

For, by Jove, you know it was perfectly clear that if they had been safe so long under the little covers, the jewels couldn't find any better place. Singular thing Billings couldn't see it. Besides, the pajamas had to have fastenings, you know.

I held one of the two rubies under the light, and, by Jove, I almost dropped it--did drop my gla.s.s. Seeing a red-hot poker-point in your fingers would give you the same turn.

"Rippers, Billings! Simply rippers!" I exclaimed.

I held the other ruby beside its fellow. Then I waited, listening, and I heard Billings' hand strike down on the back of a chair.

"I guess I'll be going, old chap," he said gruffly. "Think I'd better, after all." He cleared his throat. "Sure you can't sell me one, d.i.c.ky?"

Dashed if his voice didn't tremble.

"Quite sure, dear boy," I murmured, without turning around. "Not mine, you know--these two."

Billings exploded then. It seemed an opportunity to relieve himself.

"Not yours! Why, you dod-gasted idiot, you nincomp.o.o.p, you cuckoo, you chicken head! What notion have you got in that fool's noddle now? If those rubies are not yours, whose do you think they are?"

I whirled about quickly. "Yours," I said, and laid them in his hand.

"My compliments, old chap," I added, smiling. By Jove! One time, at least, I put it all over old Billings!

"No!" he gasped, crouching over and gripping my shoulder.

I grinned cheerfully.

He fell into a chair and just sat there mouthing at me and then at the jewels in his hand. Old boy looked devilish silly. Really acted like he had some sort of stroke--that sort of thing.

I laughed at him.

"Don't you see?" I said, trying to explain. "Wouldn't have known a dashed thing about the b.u.t.tons being rubies but for you. So lucky they came to me so I can get a chance to help out your collection. Awfully glad, old chap."

He clenched the jewels, and looked down.

"d.i.c.ky--" He coughed a little huskily as he paused. "d.i.c.ky." His voice was so low I could hardly hear him. "d.i.c.ky, you're off your trolley, and I'm a d.a.m.ned--"

He raised his arm and dropped it.

"Well, never mind what," he finished with a lift of the shoulders. "But I want to say something. It's about what I offered you for those stones.

The price--the amount I named--wasn't even a decent gamble; but it was all I could go, and oh, I wanted one so badly, d.i.c.ky! And now you've made me feel like a dog. And I can't take your gift, old chap, any more than I could afford to offer you the real value of one of these beautiful stones. Here." And he pa.s.sed them back to me.