"That's beside the question. Dried blood rubs off a faint buff
color." He picked up the sheet of paper from his desk. A deep
brownish streak showed where he had applied the moistened cloth.
"It's the rawest kind of a blind. Why, the idiot who sent the shirt
didn't even have the sense to fake bullet holes. Enough to make one
lose all interest in the case," he added disgustedly.

Doctor Hoff began tugging at his side-whiskers. "Don't do nothing
like that," he pleaded. "Come with me to Cincinnati. If he ain't
dead they've kidnapped him for a ransom."

"Then Cincinnati is the last place on the map to look, because
there's where they want you to think he is. But it doesn't look
like a case of ransom to me. Let's see. Was he particularly drunk
the day before he disappeared?"

"No. He was sober."

"Unusually sober, maybe?" suggested the other.

"Yes, he was. Been sober for a week. An' he was studyin', too."

"Ah! Studying what?"

"Spanish."

"Spanish, eh? Ever exhibit any interest in foreign tongues before?"

"Not enough to get him through one term in college," returned the