It was only too evident that Craig Nicol had been stabbed to the heart. His clothes were one mass of gore, and hard with blood. On turning the body over, a discovery was made that caused the detective’s heart to palpitate with joy. Here, underneath it, was found a Highlander’s skean dhu (stocking dirk). The little sheath itself was found at a distance of a few yards, and it must evidently have been dropped by the murderer, in his haste to conceal the body.
“Ha! this is indeed a clue,” said the detective. “This knife did the deed, George. See, it is encrusted with blood.”
“I think so, sir.”
“And look, on the silver back of the little sheath are the letters R.G.”
He took the dagger in his hand, and went back to the little crowd.
“Can anyone identify this knife?” he asked, showing it to them.
No one could.
“Can you?” said the detective, going to the rear and addressing Shufflin’ Sandie. Sandie appeared to be in deep grief.
“Must I tell?”
“You needn’t now, unless you like, but you must at the inquest.”