"Sir Clifford found me half famished and ordered his housekeeper to bring in a lunch. Not wishing my identity known, I pretended to be a patient; and just as my host was leaving the room, he tossed me a handkerchief, which he took from a side table, bidding me make myself a bandage to partially conceal my face.
"Now my eyes are trained to see much at a glance, and the moment they fell upon that bit of white linen they were riveted there.
"The handkerchief was precisely like the mutilated one used with the chloroform. This might be a coincidence—plain white handkerchiefs with wide borders were not uncommon, but this handkerchief was marked!
"I could scarcely wait until Sir Clifford should show me to my room, so anxious was I to compare the two pieces of linen.
"The whole one bore the initials F. L., and on the raw, torn edge of the half square was a black dot that was undoubtedly the fragment of a letter, or name, that had been torn hastily off. It corresponded exactly with the lower end of the letter L. upon the whole handkerchief given me by Sir Clifford.
"This might be a coincidence, but it is one of my rules to suspect two coincidences coming close together; and I had already discovered three remarkable ones in this case.
"Sitting alone in my room, I reflected thus:
"Take it for granted that this robbery was perpetrated by the Diamond Coterie, what are the facts?
"The robbers knew where to enter, and where to look for plunder; ergo, they must have known the premises.
"They administered the deadly chloroform with nicest calculation; ergo, they must have known Miss Wardour.