arlie Maxon seems an attractive prospect," replied the detective.
They had gone to the window in the living-room and he was busily
engaged upon the same eager scrutiny that he had given the desk. "They
may have discovered something that links him with the murder--that
business of taking plaster casts of footprints is very suggestive.
Maxon could have reached here after breaking jail in plenty of time to
knife Varr in keeping with the schedule as we know it. He's an ugly
customer by reputation, and he certainly had no reason to love Simon
Varr."

"How did he get the dagger? He didn't steal it, because the evening it
was stolen he was safe in the hoosgow."

"Correct, Krech, absolutely correct." The detective was intently
studying the brass lock of the door through his powerful glass. "Now
you've started thinking, persevere! If Maxon committed the murder but
didn't steal the knife, what's the answer?"

"An accomplice!" cried Krech. "A whole gang, perhaps!"

"Oh, don't be extravagant. One accomplice will do for the time being."
Creighton dropped to his knees and transferred his interest to the
flooring of the piazza outside the window and the carpet within. "_By
golly!_"

The phrase fairly exploded from his lips. Krech, abandoning his
cogitations, came quickly to his side, eager to learn what this
exclamation portended.

Creighton, with his habitual care to miss nothing, had not contented
himself with exploring the surface of the veranda or the surface of the
heavy gray carpet that covered the floor of the room from edge to edge.
That finished, he had thrust his fingers between the carpet and the
wood of the window-sill, holding it back with one hand while he passed
his magnifying glass over the accumulation of dust and dirt and
sweepings that lay in the crack. His pains were rewarded. A tiny
scrap of something that glittered in its nest of dirt caught his eye,
but it was not until it lay on the tip of one finger beneath his glass
that he realized the importance of his treasure trove. It was then he
exclaimed.

"What is it?" asked Krech, craning for a better look.

"See for yourself!" Very carefully the detective pushed the object
from his finger on to one of his friend's. "Don't drop it. What do
_you_ think it is? Here--take the glass."

"A chip of metal, I should say. Steel. Blue steel."

"Blue steel! Where have you seen blue steel before to-day?"

"Gee Joseph! That dagger!"

"Right.