re did you say it was picked up, sir?" he asked.

"It was at the bottom of our little pond," was the answer. "The boys had
one of their toy boats sunk, and, in dragging for it with a rake, they
brought up this."

"At the bottom of the pond," murmured the policeman thoughtfully. "Then
it is evident that the person who ground it down threw the knife into
the water, so that it shouldn't be found again.--You don't remember on
what day the knife was lost, I suppose, ma'am?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't tell you that," answered Mrs. Ormond. "We missed
it first last Saturday week; but we don't use it every day, so it might
have been before then."

"You've no idea who could have done this?"

"None whatever. We had an idea that one of the boys might have been the
culprit; but, as I said to Mrs. Ormond, I don't think a boy could have
ground a knife blade down as cleverly as that."

The sergeant held the carver nearer to the lamp, and looked at it for a
few moments in silence.

"I've seen some queer tools," he said, "manufactured by what's called
a thieves' blacksmith, and sometimes by the men themselves--all kinds
of odd contrivances, made out of the most unexpected things you can
imagine, from a knitting-needle to a steel fork or a poker."

"You don't think that was done by a robber, do you?" exclaimed Mrs.
Ormond, looking up from her work.

[Illustration]

"No, ma'am; I can't see what the use of it could have been, it's so thin
and fragile. Now, if it had been turned into a fine saw," the speaker
continued, feeling along the edge of the blade with his finger and thumb,
"it would have made me feel a bit suspicious.--I suppose, sir, you've
had no cause lately to think the house has been broken into--no drawers
forced, or windows opened?"

"Oh no!" answered Mr. Ormond. "Nothing of the kind."

The sergeant nodded. "It's difficult to understand," he said, "why any
one should take the trouble to grind a knife like this, and then throw
it into a pond, unless they was trying their 'and to see how thin the
blade could be made."

The speaker stood thoughtfully balancing the carver across the palm of
his large hand; then a close observer might have seen the ghost of a
smile appear on his ruddy face.

"I expect, sir, you've got a grindstone on the premises?"

"Yes, there's one out in the tool-house."

Evans made no reply, but after a moment's pause laid the knife down on
the table, and prepared to go.

"Then you don't thi