She has got more as a vardrobe full of dem.

Vait till I untie it.

Look! Ain't dot a good vun?
And all I pay for it vas tventy tollars." The detective loosened the folds, shook out the flounce, held it up to the light, and ran his thumb through the tear in the mesh.
"Of course dere's a hole--I buy him cheaper for dot hole--my little Beesving like it better for dot.

If it vas new she vouldn't have it." Pickert was now caressing the soft lace, his satisfaction complete.

"A dead give-away," he said at last.