Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem
inclined to speak.

Mr. Gryce motioned Sweetwater from the room. With a woeful look the
young detective withdrew, his last glance cast at the cutter still
lying in full view on the table.

Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then
laid it down again, with an air of seeming abstraction.

The father's attention was caught.

"What is that?" he cried, advancing a step and bestowing more than
an ordinary glance at the object thus brought casually, as it were,
to his notice. "I surely recognise this cutter. Does it belong
here or--"

Mr. Gryce, observing the other's emotion, motioned him to a chair.
As his visitor sank into it, he remarked, with all the consideration
exacted by the situation:

"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to
think it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?"

"I have seen it, or one like it, often in her hand." Here his eyes
suddenly dilated and the hand stretched forth to grasp it quickly
drew back. "Where--where was it found?" he hoarsely demanded. "O
God! am I to be crushed to the very earth by sorrow!"