Still looking at him attentively, Crayford picked it up.
"There is your handkerchief, Richard," he said.

"Strange!" "What is strange ?" "You told us you had hurt yourself with the ax--" "Well ?" "There is no blood on your handkerchief." Wardour snatched the handkerchief out of Crayford's hand, and, turning away, approached the outer door of the hut.

"No blood on the handkerchief," he said to himself.

"There may be a stain or two when Crayford sees it again." He stopped within a few paces of the door, and spoke to Crayford.

"You recommended me to take leave of my brother officers before it was too late," he said.