“Thank you, Rick, but I don’t care for compliments.” Corson was fingering some library appointments on the large table near which he sat. “These brass sets are convenient things,” he remarked, referring to an elaborate array of fittings spread out on the large green blotting pad. “These long clipping shears are most useful, and the pen-holder, letter opener and ink eraser, all to match, are of admirable workmanship.” “Yes,” said Miss Prall, carelessly, “I had the set made to order. It is, I think, unique.” “Why are you interested in them?” Miss Gurney said, abruptly. “Oh,” Corson returned, easily, “I love desk fittings. They always have a peculiar fascination for me. I have several sets myself, but none so fine or costly as these.” “Why don’t you stick to your subject, Corson?” said Bates, a little impatiently. “Are you and Gibbs going to make a success of this case or not? And I wish you’d let me know all you’ve done. You have a frank air about your disclosures, but I can’t help thinking you’re sounding us.” “Sounding you?” and Corson looked mystified. “Yes; as if you suspected us of knowing more than we’ve told. I assure you _I_ don’t.” “No, I never dreamed that you did. You’ve been most outspoken, Mr Bates, and, while I can’t plume myself much as yet on my findings or those of Mr Gibbs, you must remember that the matter is not many days old, and it is not what is called an ‘open and shut’ case.” “No; and yet, it ought to be. For a man who does not belong to this country to come over here and be killed, seems to imply not such a very large number of possible suspects.” “As to that,” and Corson sighed, “I don’t know of even one possible suspect. I wish I did,—it might lead to others. But we have the assurance that the deed was done by women; that simplifies the search.” “Yes and no, to that,” spoke up Miss Prall. “Sir Herbert, of course, wrote that in good faith, but may he not have meant by the influence of women, or at the orders or desire of women,—and not, necessarily, that women committed the actual deed?” “Granting all that,” returned Corson, “it is the women we want. If they hired gunmen,—as they may be called,—we must find out the identity of the women all the same. And if they actually committed the deed——” The ringing of the telephone interrupted his speech and proved to be a message for the detective to come downstairs at once. Corson went and on reaching the ground floor he was met by Gibbs, who took him to a small reception room and closed the door. “Here you are,” Gibbs said, and handed the other a paper-wrapped parcel which when opened proved to contain a long sharp paper-cutter. The blade, apparently hastily wiped, still showed traces of what was unmistakably blood. “Where’d it come from?” Corson said, staring at the thing.