Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/148

“I was referring to that handkerchief you took away from the picture director.”

“So was I,” answered Charlie blandly.

“Then you knew it was mine?”

“I gathered that, yes. Small initial B was on it. Also I perceived you perspiring with no means to quench it. I was greatly moved to admiration by your restraint—not once did you make use of coat sleeve. You are going to tell me that it was taken from your pocket?”

“It must have been—yes.”

“At what moment?”

“I don’t know, but I suppose some one took it when I was in swimming.”

“You are sure of that?”

“Well, it seems the only possible explanation. But I didn’t notice it was gone until a long time afterward.”

“And a still longer time after that—you mention the affair to me.”

“It’s my confounded modesty again, Charlie,” the boy laughed. “I just couldn’t stand the limelight. Let me look at the thing, anyhow.”

Charlie handed it over, and Bradshaw examined it carefully in the dashboard light. “Mine all right.” He pointed at the mark. “That’s my alias at the laundry. This is pretty sinister, if you ask me.”

Charlie took back the handkerchief. “I have very good notion to put you in jail,” he remarked.

“And trifle with the power of the press?” the boy reminded him. “Think twice, Charlie. I didn’t do away with our distinguished visitor. That’s not the sort of Hawaiian hospitality I go in for.” He hesitated. “I could use that handkerchief to-night.”