“None, that I know of.”
“Then, somebody did it to throw suspicion on you. There seems to be no getting away from that.”
“Quite right.”
“Again, if I am right about the handkerchief being a ‘planted’ clue, some one tried to throw suspicion on Stryker.”
“Yes.”
“Again, if the pencil was purposely left there, and it may have been, that’s another effort to mislead.”
“Well?”
“Well, if these ‘clues’ were arranged with such meticulous care and precision, it surely argues a clear, clever brain that planned them, and diverts our search from such criminals as thugs or highway robbers.”
“That’s all true, Mr. Stone, and I wonder our police didn’t see that point at once.”
“Police are a capable lot, but rarely subtle in their deductions. The obvious appeals to them, rather than the obscure. But that boy, Fibsy, has the brain of a thinking detective. With training and experience, he ought to develop into something remarkable. Now, I must be going. I fancy my time is up, and I have an appointment with young McGuire this afternoon.”