"It was well the point was not forced into your brain. I have heard of fatal accidents resulting from the use of these stiletto-pins. You discarded it at once?"
"Of course."
"Forever?"
"O, no. Only till the morning," replied Beatrice demurely.
"What? You have not let it serve as a warning? O, Miss Ravengar, Miss Ravengar! what is this I see shimmering in your hair at the present moment?"
"A proof of feminine vanity, for it is of no real use, being merely an ornament."
"May I inspect the savage weapon that might have ended your existence, and may yet, since you decline to learn wisdom from experience?"
Beatrice drew forth the hairpin. It was shaped like a dagger, the steel being slender, rounded, and tapering to a point: the hilt of gold set with brilliants.
As soon as Idris saw it he stared at it as if mesmerized, the tapering point of the slender steel was so strangely suggestive of the metal fragment that had fallen from the Viking's skull. He took it from his pocket and held it out to her.