"If Isabel Winthrop is found," declares Ashley, "that handkerchief, and especially that perfume, may play an important part in her discovery." Barker smiles.
"Truth is stranger than fiction, my boy," retorts Ashley. "Well, what do you think of my clews?"
The detective wraps himself in cigar smoke and thought for several minutes. Then he extends his hand.
"I believe I'll accept your proposition." Ashley returns the pressure warmly.
"I think we'll make a strong pair to draw to," he says.
"But," adds Barker, "you will see that I am more or less disinterested when I tell you that I incline to the belief that neither of your clews, good as they are, is the correct one."
"No? Whom do you suspect?"
Barker rises. "Ashley," says he, "you are young, enthusiastic and clever. How are you fixed for patience?"
"Job was a chronic kicker in comparison," is the prompt reply.
"Well, then, about to-morrow evening I shall be ready to talk with you and lay out the campaign. Satisfactory?"
"Perfectly. Let's go down to the billiard room and knock the balls around for an hour."
CHAPTER IX.
LOUISE HATHAWAY.
"Good afternoon. Will you walk in?"
"Thank you. I will detain you but a short time." Jack Ashley follows Miss Hathaway into the half-lighted drawing room, accepts the offered chair and seats himself beside the big bay window. She sinks quietly into a chair opposite him and glances at the bit of pasteboard in her hand.
Ashley has seen Louise Hathaway at the inquest and
