"With my knife--that paper cutter dagger I was giving as a present
to--to my wife?" King's voice was sobering more now.

"That's the idea, Harry."

"But I brought that knife to Darcy to have him engrave it."

"That may be. It was used to cut the old lady, though, and laid back
on Darcy's work-table. Come now--brace up, and tell us all you know
about it."

"Oh, I--I can brace up all right. So the old lady's dead, is she?
Killed--stabbed! Too bad! Many's the trinket I've bought of her
for--for--well, some of the girls, you know," and he winked
suggestively at the detectives. "Old lady Darcy's dead! Say, look
here, boys!" he exclaimed with a sudden change of manner, as something
seemed to penetrate to his sodden brain, "you--you don't for a minute
think I did this--do you?" and he sat up straight for the first time.

"Never mind what we think," said Carroll. "We're not paid for telling
it--like the reporters," and he grinned at Daley of the Times. "We
want to get at the facts. Are you in condition to talk?"

"Not here!" interrupted Thong quickly, with a glance at the newspaper
men, which they were quick to interpret. "Oh, it's all right, boys,"
went on the detective. "We'll let you in for anything that's going as
soon as we can--you know that."

"Sure," agreed Daley. "But don't keep us waiting all day. The presses