that helped make the darkness more unbearable.

"Not that robber's knife? Did he drop it?"

"It's my knife," said King.

"Strange time to stand staring at it, if it's yours! Didn't you
ever see it before?"

King stowed the knife away in his bosom, and the major crossed to
his own side.

"I'm thinking I'll know it again, at all events!" King answered,
sitting down. "Good night, sir."

"Good night."

Within ten minutes Hyde was asleep, snoring prodigiously. Then
King pulled out the knife again and studied it for half an hour.
The blade was of bronze, with an edge hammered to the keenness of a
razor. The hilt was of nearly pure gold, in the form of a woman dancing.

The whole thing was so exquisitely wrought that age had only softened
the lines, without in the least impairing them. It looked like
one of those Grecian toys with which Roman women of Nero's day
stabbed their lovers. But that was not why he began to whistle
very softly to himself.

Presently he drew out the general's package of papers, with the
photograph on the top. He stood up, to hold both knife and papers