arr himself. Further than that, the
microscope showed that the surface of the paper had been uniformly
abraded before it was written on, as if the crook had taken a rubber
eraser and removed all traces of any prints that might have been there
already."

"Cautious devil, wasn't he?"

Creighton did not answer. His eye had suddenly fallen on an object
imperfectly concealed beneath a blank sheet of paper at Norvallis'
elbow.

"Is that the knife that was used?" he asked.

"Yes." The county official rather reluctantly uncovered the exhibit.
"Don't touch!"

"No fear!" Creighton reassured him.

He moved nearer to the ghastly souvenir and bent over it. A fine bit
of Oriental workmanship that any museum might have valued; the haft was
of silver, exquisitely chased, the blade was straight and slender,
narrowing to a needlelike point, so that it belonged rather to the
stiletto type than the dagger. An inscription ran lengthwise down the
steel, which was of a distinct bluish tinge where it was not darkly
stained. About an inch from the tip a tiny triangular nick had been
made in one of the sharp edges, the only flaw in the weapon's
perfection. Creighton looked up from it to meet the Sheriff's
speculative eye.

"Can you read what it says on the blade, Mr. Creighton?"

"No! I have my limitations."

"It means, 'I bring peace'!" The officer tugged at his mustache and
smiled. "Miss Copley told us that. It belongs to her."

"Well, I expect she won't want it back."

Norvallis put down the anonymous letter which he had been reading. His
eyes were alight with satisfaction.

"This case will make people talk when it gets into the papers, Mr.
Creighton!"

"Sure to."

"Have you any other information, or evidence, or exhibit, for me?"

"Not a scrap."

"Mr. Varr's death must alter your plans, of course. May I ask if you
are returning to New York this afternoon or evening?"

Creighton knew perfectly well that Norvallis had been eager to put that
question since the moment he had come into the room. He shook his head
smilingly.

"Mr. Bolt has invited me to do what I can to recover the notebook that
was stolen from Mr. Varr's desk."

"Oh." Norvallis exchanged a quick glance with the Sheriff. "Then, in
a sense, we'll be working together. Possibly it hasn't occurred to Mr.
Bolt that when the murderer is found, the thief will be found."

"Yes, he knows that. But my inquiry may diverge from yours, Mr.
Norvall