“This is quite plainly not your property,” he went on, refolding it. “Being unable to find the owner, I shall retain possession of it.”
“But it’s mine!” she cried.
“Yours? What does the H stand for, then?”
She hesitated and flushed.
“I never said my name was Laura Devereux,” she murmured.
“No, but you see I happen to know that it is.” He replaced the handkerchief in his pocket. Then he reached forward and took the paper and envelope from her lap. [“I shall write an advertisement myself,” he said.]
She watched him while he did so, biting her lip in smiling vexation. When it was done he passed the composition across to her.
“FOUND!”
“A lady’s lace-bordered handkerchief bearing the initial H in one corner. Owner may recover same by proving ownership and rewarding finder. Apply to Vertumnus, care Clytie, Lotus Pool, Arcadia, between ten and twelve.”
