"Yes, sir. Mrs. Herne when walking down the hill dropped a small bag."
"Ah! Have you got it?"
"No. She was too sharp for me. I was picking it up when she missed it and came to claim it. But before she reached me I had opened it. Only her handkerchief was inside. I gave it back, and she gave me a shilling. But the queer thing, sir, is the scent."
"What scent?" asked Jennings, looking keenly at the man.
"Oh, a strange strong scent, fit to knock you down, sir."
"Well, and why shouldn't a lady use scent. It is customary."
"It is, sir. My wife uses scent. But this was a queer smell. And then a man shouldn't use scent," burst out Drudge.
"Some men are effeminate enough to do so," said Jennings drily. "But I don't quite understand all this."
"I can tell you what puzzled me at once," said the underling, "after watching Maraquito's house for some time, I put another fellow on, and went to the office. I had to go to see the police about some matter, and I spoke to Inspector Twining of the Rexton district. He had on his desk a handkerchief and a few articles which had just been taken from a man who had been arrested for passing false coins."
"Oh!" Jennings looked very interested, "go on."