“See which of these weapons you would like best to carry about you,” said the Doctor.
Mr. Bernard laughed, and looked at the Doctor as if he half doubted whether he was in earnest.
“This looks dangerous enough,” he said,—“for the man who carries it, at least.”
He took down one of the prohibited Spanish daggers or knives which a traveller may, occasionally get hold of and smuggle out of the country. The blade was broad, trowel-like, but the point drawn out several inches, so as to look like a skewer.
“This must be a jealous bull-fighter's weapon,” he said, and put it back in its place.
Then he took down an ancient-looking broad-bladed dagger, with a complex aspect about it, as if it had some kind of mechanism connected with it.
“Take care!” said the Doctor; “there is a trick to that dagger.”
He took it and touched a spring. The dagger split suddenly into three blades, as when one separates the forefinger and the ring-finger from the middle one. The outside blades were sharp on their outer edge. The stab was to be made with the dagger shut, then the spring touched and the split blades withdrawn.
Mr. Bernard replaced it, saying, that it would have served for sidearm to old Suwarrow, who told his men to work their bayonets back and forward when they pinned a Turk, but to wriggle them about in the wound when they stabbed a Frenchman.
“Here,” said the Doctor, “this is the thing you want.”