eek held up his hand.

"Then I take it," he said, "that the stiletto is the property of Lady
Paula, but that it was last used by Mr. Duggan, who returned it to Lady
Paula in the presence of a witness, and she put it back into her drawer.
That is correct, is it not?"

"A lie--an absolute lie!"

"Perfectly correct, Mr. Deland."

"Thank you, Mr. Duggan. At any rate, the ownership of the thing is
established, which, by the way, Lady Paula, makes no assertion whatever
as to incriminating _you_ in this disastrous affair. Miss Debenham,
would you mind coming over here for a moment? I would like to look at
your dress----"

"My _dress_, Mr. Deland?"

He smiled at her with disarming frankness.

"No wonder you think I am mad, but--ah, yes! see, right here on this
panel--I thought I was not mistaken. If you wouldn't mind turning round
a little more toward the middle of the room, Miss Debenham--thank
you--right here; those dark stains." He went down on his knees suddenly
and sniffed them, rubbed them with his fingers, and then beckoned the
mystified Mr. Narkom, who joined him immediately. "You see, Mr. Narkom,
what it is? Rather peculiar, isn't it?"

"What the devil are you driving at?" demanded Ross at this juncture,
striding around the desk and taking up a stand beside his fiancee as
though to shield her from the hands of these merciless probers of human
hearts. "I wish to God you and your kind had never showed up here at
all, I do, indeed! You always bring trouble in your wake."

"_Follow_ trouble, I think you mean, my friend," supplemented Cleek
quietly. "The trouble is generally there first. It is our business to
see that it is thrust upon--the right shoulders."

"Then Cynthia--what are you driving at now?"

There was a moment's tense silence. Then Cleek's voice sounded clearly:

"Simply this. Those three stains there--long, narrow ones--upon Miss
Debenham's gown (I noticed them this morning at breakfast)
are--bloodstains, Mr. Duggan--_bloodstains_!"

CHAPTER XIII

MR. NARKOM VOICES AN OPINION

"_Bloodstains?_"

Three pairs of feminine lips voiced that sinister word simultaneously:
Lady Paula's, Cynthia's, and Maud Duggan's.

"But how, Mr. Deland?-- But why?-- And upon Cynthia's dress, too!"

"Well, I'll swear I never had anything to do with it, anyhow!" threw in
Cynthia emphatically and in a voice of astonishment. "How _could_ they
be bloodstains, Mr. Deland? and how could they possibly get on _m