Did you notice the nick in it near the point?"

"N-no. They wouldn't let me really look at it."

"Well, there was one! And this piece will fit that nick, or I'm a
dumb-bell!" His eyes were dancing with delight. "Know what this
means?"

"Y-yes. When the fellow slipped back the catch of this window he
nicked the blade. Probably never noticed it. This piece fell to the
floor and has been there ever since."

"Fell to the floor--yes. It isn't likely that it went neatly into the
crack. It was swept there. Ever stop to think that the detective's
best friend is the housemaid who scamps her work? Bless their little
souls, they will sweep into cracks! But that isn't what I had in mind
when I asked you if you knew what this means?"

"Maybe I could dope it out in time--"

"He opened this window with the dagger! Don't you get it?"

"My brain isn't hitting on all sixteen cylinders--"

"Listen. The assumption has been that he broke in here, took the
dagger from the table where it lay handy, and forced Varr's desk. If
he got the dagger after he entered the house, why did he then force the
window with it?"

"Gee Joseph! It's a blind! He faked the breaking and entering to make
it appear an outside job!"

"Yes." Creighton's face was solemn as he reclaimed his chip of steel
and added the obvious corollary to Krech's deduction. "If it's not an
outside job it must be an inside one. Somebody in this house took that
dagger and notebook."

"I'll bet it was--!"

"Hush!" whispered the detective sharply. "Some one coming!"

_XVI: A Woman of Note_

At the warning sound of approaching footsteps, Creighton whipped an
envelope from his pocket and dropped into it the precious bit of blue
steel he had recovered from the crack beneath the French window; he
smoothed down the carpet with a quick sideways flirt of his foot,
thrust the envelope into his coat, and had barely time to hiss one
further admonition into Krech's attentive ear.

"Not a word of this to a soul!"

"My lips are sealed," declared the big man.

Miss Ocky entered the room to find two gentlemen engaged in
conversation close by an open window out of which they were looking
while their backs were tranquilly turned to the apartment. When she
said, "Excuse me!" they pivoted about as one, and the synchronic
promptitude with which they uttered the same question did credit to
their bringing up.

"How is Mrs. Varr?"

"Much quieter--much better,