The matron helped her to rise. De Medici stood beside her. He looked calmly at her eyes until they turned from him. Her confusion and anguish brought a deep pain to his own heart. But a conviction masked his emotions. “She knows,” he murmured silently, “she knows and keeps silent. For a reason....” He smiled almost happily at her as the matron led her away. “Who is this Floria?” Lieutenant Norton was demanding. De Medici turned to him. “Ah, my dear lieutenant,” he answered, his voice strangely light, “a marvelous person. A suave Messalina.... You will find her some day. With our assistance.” He bowed and his hand gracefully indicated the doctor. “I’ve found just who I want,” Norton grunted. His keen eyes gleamed with irritation. “Miss Ballau has been booked for the murder of her stepfather.” De Medici’s eyes showed no emotion. “Good night,” he answered. Dr. Lytton followed him out of the building. The pathologist’s face wore an air of violently suppressed excitement. CHAPTER X THE DAGGER OF MIST In which a pathologist reasons himself into a railroad trip—Francesca of the spiral eyes—The ancient science of demonology—The visiting shadow—The dagger that glistened against the moon. Night covered the streets. De Medici’s expressionless face nodded an attentive punctuation to the talk of the pathologist as they left the police station behind. “Two and two,” Dr. Lytton was saying exuberantly. “The thing evolves into an ABC of logic. Poor child, poor child. You guessed it, too, eh, Julien? Well, it was easy. Anybody but a policeman would have seen it. But what acting! What consummate acting! The voice, the centered eyes, the collapse! A wonderful woman, Julien.” “Why did she do it?” De Medici asked. “Why? Hm—to beat us at our own game,” Dr. Lytton laughed. “To confuse us, bewilder us, give us no trail at all where there had been the beginning of a trail. Her hesitation over the name Floria. Her inward struggle. Ha, what a complicated fool she must take me for! But, thank God, it happened. For the thing now suddenly comes into the domain of logic. Yes, we’ve done everything but think. Simplicity is always the soul of mystery. For instance, it was obvious to me five minutes after Miss Ballau entered the room that she was as normal and straightforward a nature as any I have ever seen. There is not a hint of the neurotic about her. Healthy, keen, vivacious and an actress. Good Lord, what an actress! The mock trance she went into was superb.” “You’re convinced it was pretense?” De Medici asked.