"Ah! And if you say that," she cried, wildly starting to her feet. "So do I! So do I!"
"Come, calm yourself, dearest," I said, placing my hand upon her shoulder and forcing her back into her chair. "You are upset to-night," and I kissed her cold, white lips. "May I ring for Mallock? Wouldn't you like to go to your room?"
She drew a deep sigh, and with an effort repressed the tears welling in her deep-set, haunted eyes.
"Yes," she faltered in her emotion. "Perhaps I had better. I—I cannot bear this strain much longer. You told me that the police did not suspect me, but—but, now I know they do. A man has been watching outside the house all day for two days past. Yes," she sobbed, "they will come, come to arrest me, but they will only find that—that I've cheated them!"
"They will not come," I answered her. "I happen to know more than I can tell you, Phrida," I whispered. "You need have no fear of arrest."
"But that woman Petre! She may denounce me—she will, I know!"
"They take no notice of such allegations at Scotland Yard. They receive too much wild correspondence," I declared. "No, dearest, go to bed and rest—rest quite assured that at present you are in no peril, and, further, that every hour which elapses brings us nearer a solution of the tragic and tantalising problem. May I ring for Mallock?" I asked, again kissing her passionately upon those lips, hard and cold as marble, my heart full of sympathy for her in her tragic despair.
"Yes," she responded faintly in a voice so low that I could hardly catch it. So I crossed and rang the bell for her maid.
Then, when she had kissed me good-night, looking into my eyes with a strange expression of wistfulness, and left the room, I dashed across to that little table whereon the ivory-hilted knife was lying and seized the important piece of evidence, so that it might not fall into Edwards' hands.
I held it within my fingers, and taking it across to the fireplace, examined it in the strong light. The ivory was yellow and old, carved with the escutcheon bearing the three balls, the arms of the great House of Medici. The blade, about seven inches long, was keen, triangular, and, at the point, sharp as a needle. Into it the rust of centuries had eaten, though in parts it was quite bright, evidently due to recent cleaning.