“Yes. They believe they’ve found the weapon what he does his awful deeds with,” said Chandler. “At any rate, within a hundred yards of that little dark passage where they found the bodies—one at each end, that was—there was discovered this morning a very peculiar kind o’ knife—‘keen as a razor, pointed as a dagger’—that’s the exact words the boss used when he was describing it to a lot of us. He seemed to think a lot more of that clue than of the other—I mean than of the description people gave of the chap who walked quickly by with a newspaper parcel. But now there’s a pretty job in front of us. Every shop where they sell or might a’ sold, such a thing as that knife, including every eating-house in the East End, has got to be called at!” “Whatever for?” asked Daisy. “Why, with an idea of finding out if anyone saw such a knife fooling about there any time, and, if so, in whose possession it was at the time. But, Mr. Bunting”—Chandler’s voice changed; it became businesslike, official—“they’re not going to say anything about that—not in newspapers—till to-morrow, so don’t you go and tell anybody. You see, we don’t want to frighten the fellow off. If he knew they’d got his knife—well, he might just make himself scarce, and they don’t want that! If it’s discovered that any knife of that kind was sold, say a month ago, to some customer whose ways are known, then—then—” “What’ll happen then?” said Mrs. Bunting, coming nearer. “Well, then, nothing’ll be put about it in the papers at all,” said Chandler deliberately. “The only objec’ of letting the public know about it would be if nothink was found—I mean if the search of the shops, and so on, was no good. Then, of course, we must try and find out someone—some private person-like, who’s watched that knife in the criminal’s possession. It’s there the reward—the five hundred pounds will come in.” “Oh, I’d give anything to see that knife!” exclaimed Daisy, clasping her hands together. “You cruel, bloodthirsty, girl!” cried her stepmother passionately. They all looked round at her, surprised. “Come, come, Ellen!” said Bunting reprovingly. “Well, it _is_ a horrible idea!” said his wife sullenly. “To go and sell a fellow-being for five hundred pounds.” But Daisy was offended. “Of course I’d like to see it!” she cried defiantly. “I never said nothing about the reward. That was Mr. Chandler said that! I only said I’d like to see the knife.” Chandler looked at her soothingly. “Well, the day may come when you _will_ see it,” he said slowly. A great idea had come into his mind. “No! What makes you think that?” “If they catches him, and if you comes along with me to see our Black Museum at the Yard, you’ll certainly see the knife, Miss Daisy. They keeps all them kind of things there. So if, as I say, this weapon _should_ lead to the conviction of The Avenger—well, then, that knife ’ull be there, and you’ll see it!”