for an hour, when Felton left the hotel. His face was flushed and he seemed to be laboring under strong excitement. Before he left he called Thayer to one side. 'John,' said he, 'if you are a friend of mine say nothing about my caller to-day. You understand?'
"I remarked casually: 'Then he returned to the hotel that afternoon?'
"'Oh, yes,' said he.
"'And was there during the evening?'
"'Yes, I noticed him in the office at the time the alarm over the bank affair was sounded. He left the hotel then and I did not see him again that night.'
"'Well,' I asked pointedly, 'can you swear that Felton was in the hotel between 7:45 and 8:30 the evening of Memorial Day?' I never saw a chap so taken back as was Thayer. He could not locate Felton at any particular time during the evening; moreover, he could not say positively that the Winthrop woman spent the evening in her room. He supposed she did. The only point that Thayer was sure of was that the woman left for the south on the first train the next morning.
"'Thayer,' said I, consolingly, 'the only way I see to clear your absent friend is to find this Winthrop woman. Describe her to me as accurately as you can.' He did so and I have a pretty good pen portrait of the unknown in my memorandum-book, marked 'Exhibit A.'
"'Oh, by the way,' said Thayer, 'she left a handkerchief in the room.'
"'The deuce she did! I must have that,' said I. And here it is," said Ashley, passing over a dainty lace creation for Barker's inspection. In one corner is the letter "I" curiously embroidered in silk.
"There are thousands of such handkerchiefs," comments the detective.
"Yes, but not scented with that variety of perfume." The detective sniffs it. "Did you ever smell anything just like that?" queries Ashley. Barker allows that he never did and his acquaintance with scents is an extended one.
