Bledsoe glanced at it and frowned. “What the hell is this?” he said sharply. “If you’ve found the thing, where is it?”

“At the police station, in safekeeping,” Monk replied.

“Well, get the damn thing and bring it to me. I’ll see that it’s returned,” Bledsoe said irritably.

“It’s important that I return it to the right person. Do you know who that is, sir?” Monk persisted.

“Yes, I do!” Bledsoe snapped. “Now go and fetch it! Dammit, man, what’s the matter with you?”

Monk folded the picture and replaced it in his pocket. “Whose is it, sir?”

Bledsoe glared at him. “Rupert Cardew’s. At least it looks like one he wore. For God’s sake, why are you making such a hell of a fuss about a damn cravat?”

Monk felt a void open up inside him. He knew how much Hester liked Rupert Cardew, and how he had helped the clinic. His generosity had enabled them to buy far more medicine than before, and so treat more people.

“Are you sure?” He was startled by the hoarseness in his voice.

“Yes, I am!” Bledsoe was losing his temper. “Now fetch it, and I’ll give it back to him, or I’ll see that you pay for your insolence.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t return it to you in the foreseeable future, or to Mr. Cardew. It was used in a crime. It will be evidence when the case comes to court.”

“What do you mean, a crime?” Bledsoe was taken aback, his skin losing its color, his stance suddenly changed.

“It was used to strangle a man,” Monk told him with some satisfaction.

The blood rushed hot into Bledsoe’s face. “You tricked me!” he accused him.

“I asked you if you knew whose it was. You answered me,” Monk said icily. “Do you mean that had you known it was used in a crime, then you would have lied?”

“Damn you!” Bledsoe said between his teeth. “I shall deny it.”

Monk looked at him, lifting his own lip in a suggestion of disdain. “If that is what your code of honor says you must do, sir, then you must follow your conscience. It is very noble of you.”

Bledsoe looked startled. “Noble?”

“Yes, sir. Now that I know whose it is, it will be easy enough to prove. You will look something of a fool in court, and everything of a liar, but you will have been loyal to your friend. Good day, sir.” He turned on his heel and strode away. He was furious, but far more than that, he was filled with misery. He desperately did not want the suspect to be someone he liked—worse, someone Hester liked.