"A gentleman's handkerchief."
"You weren't sure that it was Mr. Mallett's?"
"I wasn't sure that it wasn't. And I didn't think it was."
"Why were you uncertain?"
"Well, this wasn't like Mr. Mallett's handkerchiefs. He has dozens of them, nearly all fancy ones, with coloured borders. This was a very fine cambric handkerchief—I'd never seen one like it before. But, still, I wasn't certain that it wasn't Mr. Mallett's after all."
"Why?"
"Because sometimes when Mr. Mallett was away for the day he'd buy a spare handkerchief—he's a lot of odd handkerchiefs that he's brought home in his pockets. I thought this might have been got that way."
"You didn't mention its presence to anybody?"
"No—I didn't think of it."
"Well, what did you do with the handkerchief about which you were doubtful?"