Pinkerton, A. Frank [pseud.] / 2008-06-20 00:00:00

"
"I shall remain in St. Louis for the present," returned young Bernard.
He went with his friend to the hotel, however, and soon the two were
in the privacy of Dyke Darrel's room.
"Now, then, let us look at that coat." Harry Bernard laid the garment
down on the bed, and Darrel began a close examination of the same. It
was an ordinary sack coat, with two inside pockets. The detective was
not long in going through the pockets.
"Ah!"
The ejaculation was significant.
It fell from the lips of Dyke Darrel, the detective.
"Now what?" questioned Bernard.
"Look at that."
Dyke Darrel held aloft a handkerchief that had once been white, but
which was now dingy with dirt. But this was not the only
discoloration. There was a stain on the square bit of linen that was
significant.
"What is it?"
"Blood!" answered Dyke Darrel.
Then the detective made a close examination, and made still another
discovery--a name in one corner of the rumpled handkerchief.
The keen eyes of the detective gleamed with a satisfied light.
"What have you discovered, Dyke?"
"A clew."
"To what?"
"To the most infamous crime of the century. This handkerchief has the
name of its owner stamped plainly in the corner.
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