It was
this fact that had attracted and interested Dyke Darrel, and what he
intended showing his friend Harry Bernard. The moment Harry laid his
hand against the print on the handkerchief the detective made a
startling discovery. Not only did the hand of Harry Bernard fit the
bloody stain exactly, but a large wart near the knuckle of the little
finger fell exactly against the spot that dotted the center of the
white circle.
A feeling of unutterable horror filled the mind of Dyke Darrel at that
moment. Harry Bernard had been his friend for years, and he had always
found him upright and true.
But what meant this horrible revelation of the handkerchief?
Could it be possible that another had the same-sized hand and a wart
near the knuckle of the little finger? It was not likely.
Dyke Darrel came to his feet, with cold perspiration oozing out upon
his brow. Before him sat Harry Bernard, smiling gently, and yet he had
a devil in his heart--THE DEVIL OF ASSASSINATION!
CHAPTER VIII.
A PLUNGE TO DEATH.
For some moments neither man spoke. Harry Bernard noticed that his
friend was deeply moved, and he seemed to wonder at the cause. At
length he said:
"Dyke, what is it?"
"Nothing, only---"
"Well, speak out," as the detective hesitated.
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