"It's up my sleeve," he whispered. "Shut your eyes, Maester Leicester. You needn't look at the horrid thing, shut your eyes, and hide it away in your sleeve, then throw it out to sea! Oh! it is a horrid, horrid thing!"
"Give it to me," said Leicester, hoarsely; and to please the lad he shut his eyes. Jamie slipped the knife in his hands and instantly the detective slid from behind the curtain and grasped Leicester's hand.
Leicester offered no resistance, and hushed Jamie's cry of alarm.
"All right, Jamie, don't be frightened. This is a friend."
"Is it your knife?" said Mr. Dockett, quite coolly.
"Let me see," said Leicester, then as he looked at it he sprang to his feet. "By Heaven!" he exclaimed, with a shout of frenzy, "his sin has come home to him! Nemesis is on his track!"
"Whose knife is it, I ask you?" exclaimed the detective, almost excited.
"Howard Murpoint's," replied Leicester.
At that moment the door opened, and Stumpy entered.
He had heard every word, and as he paused on the threshold he muttered to himself: "Jerusalem! things are working round bad for the general!"