But that night he awoke suddenly to gain the impression that some one was in the hotel room. He listened intently in the darkness, seeking for any semblance of a sound. When none occurred, the detective turned on the light and stared about him. The room was empty.
The door was still locked. Peering from the open window, Cardona noticed a balcony a floor below. There was no one on the balcony. The detective went back to bed and slept soundly until morning. Arising, he remembered what had occurred during the night. Dissatisfied, Cardona looked about the room, to make sure that his previous inspection had been thorough. He decided to make a notation on his sheet of tabulations, especially as he now recalled that the name of the trusting woman had been Maude Garwood.
Reaching in his coat pocket, the detective discovered that his sheet of notes was gone!
What had he done with it?
It seemed incredible that an unknown intruder could have entered here and made away with those notations. What purpose could have been gained by such a procedure?
Every fact that he had written was emblazoned in Cardona's brain. There was nothing in the notes that he could not write again from memory.
Confused, Cardona decided that he must have placed the paper somewhere other than in his pocket. He made a search about the room, and finally reached a point where he was wondering if he had made the notes at all.
Then he thought of the only spot where he had not looked. Beneath his pillow! Perhaps, absent-mindedly, he had thrust them there.
Raising the pillow, Cardona stood stupefied. There were his notes; but they were not alone. The sheet of paper was tucked beneath a string that bound a small, flat box!
Excitedly, Cardona seized his own paper and made sure that it was the one he had prepared last night. He yanked the string from the box and burst open the cardboard package. Within, he discovered a small bunch of violets!