"I believe you can do it." Billinger leaped into his saddle and was off at a gallop.

Philip was almost eagerly anxious for this opportunity, and scarcely had the other gone when he drew the linen handkerchief and the crumpled lock of hair from his pocket and held them in his hand as he looked after the agent.
Then, slowly, he raised the handkerchief to his face.

For a full minute he stood with the dainty fabric pressed to his lips and nose.

Back there--when he had first held the handkerchief--he thought that he imagined.

But now he was sure.