"I blame Ware a good deal for this," continued Morley gloomily. "He openly admired Miss Denham, and encouraged her to flirt with him. A rash thing to do to one who has negro blood in her veins. I expect passion carried her beyond herself." "How do you know she has negro blood?" "She said so herself." "Did you know that when you engaged her?" "I never engaged her at all, Drake. My wife did. I must say that Miss Denham's credentials were good. She had been governess in an Italian family, and ha!----" He stopped suddenly, and started up. "In Italy she might have procured a stiletto. From the nature of the wound--which is small and deep--I should think it was inflicted with such a weapon." "How do you know that the wound is small and deep?" "My wife told me when she came to the door that time. You did not hear her. She says the wound is quite small. In that case it must be deep, or the death would not have occurred so suddenly." Drake shook his head. "We don't know that it did occur suddenly." Morley contradicted this angrily. "If Daisy had not died at once she would have had time to shriek, and the cry would have been heard in the church." "I doubt it. The people were deeply interested in my sermon." The other man shrugged his shoulders. It was scarcely worth while arguing this point with the rector. He relapsed into a brown study, until roused to reply to a question asked by his guest. "Have you ever seen a stiletto?" asked Drake. "I have one here," replied Morley, running his eye along the wall; "one that I got in Italy myself. It was said to have belonged to Lucrezia Borgia. I wonder where it is." "Rather difficult to discover it amidst all these weapons, Mr. Morley. Good heavens! what is the matter?" He might well ask. His host was clutching his arm in a vice-like hold, and was pointing to a certain part of the wall whereon hung a pair of ancient pistols, a crusader's shield, and an old helmet. "The stiletto was there. It is gone!" gasped Morley. "Impossible. Who can have taken it?" "Miss Denham! Miss Denham! Oh, and you believe her to be innocent!" cried the other. "She came into this very room at nine o'clock, or a little after. I was outside on the terrace seeing a visitor off. She was alone in the room for a time. She must have taken the weapon." "No, no; why should she have?" "Because she intended to murder my poor Daisy. It was all arranged in her black heart. Drake," he added solemnly, "I have done my best to believe that woman innocent. I defended her against Daisy, and my wife defended her also. We tried to believe that she had no ill intention, and see--see what comes of it. She steals the stiletto, and kills the child in the most brutal manner. I swear to hunt her down. I swear----!"