"It has all been very mysterious," said Winbush, "and I have not been able to understand my master at all. What I have said about hearing a noise in the passage and being seized before I could switch on the light in the dining-room is all true, but the stuff which was put into my face and made me unconscious wasn't there before I had time to call out." "You called out, then?" "No, I didn't, because the man spoke to me." "Oh, it was a man--not a woman?" "It was Mr. Lanning himself," said Winbush. This was so unexpected that I nearly exclaimed at it, but Quarles just watched the speaker as if he would make certain that he was telling nothing but the truth. "He spoke quickly and excitedly," Winbush went on. "Said it was necessary that the flat should appear to have been robbed. I should presently be discovered bound. I was to say that I had been attacked in the dark and that I did not know by whom nor by how many. I was not to speak about the matter to him again under any circumstances, and even if he questioned me alone or before others I was to stick to my story of utter ignorance. I had just said that I understood and heard him say that he would probably question me to prove my faithfulness, when he put the stuff over my mouth and nose, and I knew no more until he found me there later on." "Has he questioned you since?" "Not since he first found me lying on the floor. He did then, and I obeyed his instructions just as I did when you talked to me afterwards." "Did he suggest you should say a woman was present?" "No, sir." "That was a little extra trimming of your own, eh?" "No, it was a bit of truth that crept in. I thought a woman was there." "By the perfume?" "Yes, sir." Quarles brought from the depth of a pocket a tissue-paper parcel, from which he took a handkerchief. "Was that the perfume?" Winbush smelt it. "It may have been. It was the perfume that hangs about a woman in evening dress." "That's Parma violets, Wigan," said the professor, waving the handkerchief towards me. It was one of his own, so had evidently been specially prepared for this test. "I wonder what percentage of women use the scent? It is not much of a clue for us, I am afraid." He put the handkerchief away, and then from another pocket produced a second handkerchief, also wrapped in tissue paper. This time it was a fragile affair of lawn and lace. "Smell that, Mr. Winbush." "That's it!" the man exclaimed; no hesitation this time. "You can swear to it?" "Yes, sir." "Rather a pleasant scent but peculiar, Wigan. I do not know what it is." Nor did I, but the handkerchief interested me. Worked in the corner were the letters "Y.D."