“‘Oh, by the way,’ said Thayer, ‘she left a handkerchief in the room.’
“‘The deuce she did! I must have that,’ said I. And here it is,” said Ashley, passing over a dainty lace creation for Barker’s inspection. In one corner is the letter “I” curiously embroidered in silk.
“There are thousands of such handkerchiefs,” comments the detective.
“Yes, but not scented with that variety of perfume.” The detective sniffs it. “Did you ever smell anything just like that?” queries Ashley. Barker allows that he never did and his acquaintance with scents is an extended one.
“If Isabel Winthrop is found,” declares Ashley, “that handkerchief, and especially that perfume, may play an important part in her discovery.” Barker smiles.
“Truth is stranger than fiction, my boy,” retorts Ashley. “Well, what do you think of my clews?”
The detective wraps himself in cigar smoke and thought for several minutes. Then he extends his hand.
“I believe I’ll accept your proposition.” Ashley returns the pressure warmly.
“I think we’ll make a strong pair to draw to,” he says.
“But,” adds Barker, “you will see that I am more or less disinterested when I tell you that I incline to the belief that neither of your clews, good as they are, is the correct one.”