cheon bearing the three balls, the arms of the great House
of Medici. The blade, about seven inches long, was keen, triangular, and,
at the point, sharp as a needle. Into it the rust of centuries had eaten,
though in parts it was quite bright, evidently due to recent cleaning.

I was examining it for any stains that might be upon it--stains of the
life-blood of Marie Bracq. But I could find none. No. They had been
carefully removed, yet chemical analysis would, without doubt, reveal
inevitable traces of the ghastly truth.

I had my back to the door, and was still holding the deadly weapon in my
hand, scrutinising it closely, when I heard a slight movement behind me,
and turning, confronted Phrida, standing erect and rigid, like a statue.

Her face was white as death, her thin hands clenched, her haunted eyes
fixed upon me.

"Ah! I see!" she cried hoarsely. "You know--eh? You _know_!"

"No. I do not _know_, Phrida," was my deep reply, as I snatched her hand
and held it in my own. "I only surmise that this knife was used on that
fatal night, because of the unusual shape of its blade--because of the
medical evidence that by such a knife Marie Bracq was killed."

She drew a deep breath.

"And you are taking it as evidence--against me!"

"Evidence against you, darling!" I echoed in reproach. "Do you think that
I, the man who loves you, is endeavouring to convict you of a crime? No.
Leave matters to me. I am your friend--not your enemy!"

A silence fell between us. She neither answered nor did she move for some
moments. Then she said in a deep wistful tone:

"Ah! if I could only believe that you are!"

"But I am," I declared vehemently. "I love you, Phrida, with all my soul,
and I will never believe ill of you--never, never!"

"How can you do otherwise in these terrible circumstances?" she queried,
with a strange contraction of her brows.

"I love you, and because I love you so dearly--because you are all the
world to me," I said, pressing her to my heart, "I will never accept what
an enemy may allege--never, until you are permitted to relate your own
story."

I still held the weapon in my hand, and I saw that her eyes wandered to
it.

"Ah! Teddy!" she cried, with sudden emotion. "How can I thank you
sufficiently for those words? Take that horrible thing and hide it--hide
it anywhere from my eyes, for sight of it brings all the past back to me.
Yet--yet I was afraid," she went on, "I dare not hide it, lest an