McGuire took the knife—twisting it slowly over in his fingers. "A hasp-knife," he repeated dully.
"I thought it best to bring them to you," said Peter, "especially on account of——"
"Yes, yes. Of course." He was staring at the red crayon scrawl and as he said nothing more Peter turned toward the door, where Stryker stood on guard.
"If there's nothing else just now, I'll——"
"Wait!" uttered the old man, and Peter paused. And then, "Did any one else see this—this paper?"
"Yes—Mrs. Bergen's niece—she saw it first."
"My housekeeper's niece. Any one else?"
"I don't know. I hardly think so. It seemed quite freshly written."
"Ah——" muttered McGuire. He was now regarding Peter intently. "Where—where is the tree on which you found it?"
"A maple—just in the wood—at the foot of the lawn."