“It has,” replied Strange, without enthusiasm.
He held up to view the sheath of the hunting-knife, which he had found in the table drawer. A large “M. B.” had been cut on the front of the leather covering by an unskilled hand. The letters were crude and the edges worn, and they had evidently been cut in the leather a long while ago.
The coroner examined the letters closely and returned the sheath to Strange.
“There can scarcely be any doubt as to the ownership of the knife,” he agreed.
“What progress are your men making with their search?” demanded the major.
“The men have gone over the house twice without success,” declared Strange. “O’Brill and Muldoon are now on the roof and the other men are searching the adjoining houses.”
“And have they found no evidence of any person having been in this house?”
“No one except Berjet and the valet.”
“Dr. Rane, what do you think of this affair?” questioned Dobson impatiently. “We are progressing too slowly to please me. Have you any suggestions to offer?”