would not be hidden by spasmodic attempts at fine manners, and a foul
habit of scenting his handkerchiefs and even his clothes with some weird
stuff he made himself; left a
trail behind him wherever he went.
It smelt something like a mixture of orris-root and attar of roses."
Amaryllis wiped her lips, and Dick Bellamy thought her cheeks nearly as
white as the little handkerchief. "What did the fellow do?" asked
Randal. "For one thing, I discovered that he carried a hypodermic
syringe; so I watched
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