“Yes, there are,” said Lockwood, “I have seen them.”
“Where?” demanded the Examiner, suddenly turning on him.
“Why—I don’t know.” For once, the Secretary’s calm was a trifle shaken. “I should say in museums—or in private collections, perhaps.”
“Are you familiar with so many private collections of strange weapons that you can’t remember where you have seen a round-shaped blade?”
Examiner Marsh stared hard at him and Lockwood became taciturn again.
“Exactly that,” he conceded. “I have sometime, somewhere, seen a round-bladed stiletto—but I cannot remember where.”
“Better brush up your memory,” Marsh told him, and then the police arrived.
The local police of Corinth were rather proud of themselves as a whole, and they had reason to be. Under a worthwhile chief the men had been well trained, and were alert, energetic and capable.
Detective Morton, who took this matter in charge, went straight to work in a most business-like way.
He examined the body of John Waring, not as the medical men had done, but merely to find possible clues to the manner of his death.