"Chinese laundry marks, you idiot," he commented carelessly. And then he ducked his head closer with a quick intake of breath.
"By George, Dicky!" he cried, his voice tremulous with some excitement. "Can't be that either; it's woven in—awfully fine, neat job, too. Now, what do you suppose—"
He broke off wonderingly.
CHAPTER XVI
AN INSCRIPTION AND A MYSTERY
Billings rubbed his chin perplexedly.
"By jigger, now, I wonder what those hen tracks mean?" he uttered musingly. Then he looked up at me with sudden animation in his face.
"Look here, Dicky," he exclaimed, "do you happen to know Doozenberry?"
I tried to remember. I shut one eye and studied the marks closely through my glass, but had to shake my head at last.