"Yes. There now appears to be not the least doubt of that. I went up to the post and showed the knife to a member of the Signal Corps who used to belong to Fortescue's company. He declares that he has seen that dagger in Fortescue's possession a dozen times. Fortescue picked it up in Italy once while he was abroad—in Italy, the home of the stiletto. He was very proud of it, and always had the weapon about him, in a small sheath."
Cameron was silent for a little, examining with pensive eyes the rusted dagger which he had laid on a table in front of him.
"Fortescue came to Totten from the Presidio, at San Francisco," he finally went on. "I presume you have heard how eager one nation is to secure the plans of another nation's defenses——"
"I know a good deal about that," interjected Matt grimly. "Other nations are just as eager to find out about submarine boats belonging to another nation—and to destroy them, if possible. When your cousin, Ensign Glennie, went around South America with me in the submarine Grampus, we had our hands full keeping clear of the Japs."
"Exactly," said Cameron. "I know about that. Well, our defenses in and around San Francisco Bay, their strength as to guns and calibre of the guns, the situation and power of the disappearing cannon, and all that, might become of importance to several nations. Such information, if it can be secured, is well paid for. That is the pit into which poor Fortescue dropped—killing as bright a prospect as ever lay before any officer in the service.
"While Fortescue was stationed at Totten, he went across to Devil's Lake City on a week's leave. His excuse was that he had to make a business trip to St. Paul, and when he went he carried a suit case with him. The eastbound train was late, and Fortescue checked his suit case at the hotel and went to pass an hour or two with friends. In some way, the clerk at the hotel mixed the checks, and a commercial traveler from Omaha got Fortescue's grip by mistake, while Fortescue was visiting his friends.
"Both grips, it transpired, looked exactly alike—you've seen suit cases that way, I guess—and when the drummer took the grip to his room he was surprised to find that his key wouldn't unlock it. It was necessary for the drummer to get into the case, and he broke the lock. Instead of finding what he was looking for, he discovered a mass of plans and blue-prints, with sheet after sheet of memoranda, all descriptive of our defensive works in and around San Francisco!
"Naturally, the drummer was astounded. Then, for the first time, he looked at the lettering on the end of the suit case. Just as you found on that dagger, he discovered on the suit case the initials, 'G. F.' While he was looking over the documents Fortescue burst wildly into the room and demanded his property. Of course, the drummer gave up the suit case and the papers. He thought no more of the matter just then, for Fortescue was an officer of the army and, the drummer believed, entitled to the documents.
"Three days later Fortescue was discovered dead in the woods not far from the place where Ping was found by the Indian the afternoon of the aëroplane trials. He had been slain by a dagger thrust and stripped of all his personal possessions. There was no marks of a scuffle, and the affair became a great mystery, for Fortescue's dagger—that dagger—was missing, although the sheath was still in Fortescue's breast pocket.
"The news got out. The drummer, who was at Grand Forks, read an account of the affair in a newspaper, and immediately started for Totten. He told what he knew about the plans in Fortescue's satchel. This information pointed to shame and disgrace, in the matter of Fortescue, but every one reserved judgment, not wishing to judge the captain until more concerning the affair had come out.