"A pretty girl, too."
"Very. See if there is any writing on that brown paper."
"No, Nick; not a line."
"Here, here, let me see it! What's this? It is punctured with tiny holes, evidently made with a pin."
"So it is, by Jove!"
"Perhaps she made them with her hat pin, while sitting there on the seat. See, Chick, there is the pin still in the hat."
"I see it, Nick. What now?"
Still kneeling beside the girl, Nick was holding the sheet of paper between himself and the sky.
"No, the punctures are not uniform," said he. "I thought that they possibly had been made with some design, and perhaps formed some word or sentence that would give us a clew to the mystery."
"None such, eh?"