Julius Rohscheimer wiped his forehead with the Cambridge silk.
"Poor Graham! How long?" he said huskily.
"Roughly, half an hour."
"Look! look! On the desk!"
The doctor turned sharply from the body and looked as directed.
Stuck upright amid the litter of papers was a long, curved dagger, with a richly ornamented hilt. Several documents were impaled by its crimson point, and upon the topmost the following had roughly and shakily been printed:
"VENGENCE IS MINE!
"Séverac Bablon."
Dr. Simons started perceptibly, and looked about the place with a sudden apprehension. It seemed to Julius Rohscheimer that his face grew pale.
In the eerie silence of the dead man's room they faced one another.