which in its
untarnished days had evidently been of chased silver. He lifted the
dagger from the table and handed it to the Turk.

"This is yours, I believe," he said softly.

The man turned it over, stepping nearer the table that he might secure
the advantage of a better light. He examined the blade near the hilt and
handed the weapon back to T. X.

"That is my knife," he said.

T. X. smiled.

"You understand, of course, that I saw 'Hussein Effendi of Durazzo'
inscribed in Arabic near the hilt."

The Turk inclined his head.

"With this weapon," T. X. went on, speaking with slow emphasis, "a
murder was committed in this town."

There was no sign of interest or astonishment, or indeed of any emotion
whatever.

"It is the will of God," he said calmly; "these things happen even in a
great city like London."

"It was your knife," suggested T. X.

"But my hand was in Durazzo, Effendi," said the Turk.

He looked at the knife again.

"So the Black Roman is dead, Effendi."

"The Black Roman?" asked T. X., a little puzzled.

"The Greek they call Kara," said the Turk; "he was a very wicked man."

T. X. was up on his feet now, leaning across the table and looking at
the other with narrowed eyes.

"How did you know it was Kara?" he asked quickly.

The Turk shrugged his shoulders.

"Who else could it be?" he said; "are not your newspapers filled with
the story?"

T. X. sat back again, disappointed and a little annoyed with himself.

"That is true, Hussein Effendi, but I did not think you read the
papers."

"Neither do I, master," replied the other coolly, "nor did I know that
Kara had been killed until I saw this knife. How came this in your
possession!"

"It was found in a rain sewer," said T. X., "into which the murderer had
apparently dropped it. But if you have not read the newspapers, Effendi,
then you admit that you know who committed this murder."

The Turk raised his hands slowly to a level with his shoulders.

"Though I am a Christian," he said, "there are many wise sayings of my
father's religion which I remember. And one of these, Effendi, was, 'the
wicked must die in the habitations of the just, by the weapons of the
worthy shall the wicked perish.' Your Excellency, I am a worthy man,
for never have I done a dishonest thing in my life. I have traded fairly
with Greeks, with Italians, have with Frenchmen and with Englishmen,
also with Jews. I have never sought to rob them nor to hurt the