“The ornament?” The Duke glanced at his wife in some hesitation. She had taken the tiresome thing and locked it up, being in no mood to pander to an already more than objectionable curiosity. He waited to see how she would refuse, but she rose, and saying, “I will get it,” left the room. “The Duchess is not going to show it to everybody,” said the Duke, with a, possibly manneristic, touch of patronage. “No, I shouldn’t,” Playford commented, with a shrewd smile. He thought he knew why he was made the exception, and was not going to take is as a favour. His manner, with men at least, Dukes included, was rather more brusque than his present host liked, so no word further was spoken till the Duchess returned. “Here it is,” she said, and unwrapped the tissue paper from the unhappy piece of evidence. There it was. A miniature sword, the blade tarnished gold, the hilt set with diamonds, and the point broken off. Playford watched its uncovering eagerly. As it was disclosed he put out his hand to take it, and, as he did so, glanced up in the Duchess’s face. He did not mean to tell her anything, yet she saw in his eyes something that said a good deal. Next moment he had turned away to the light and was scrutinizing the little sword closely, eagerly, as a man will who wants to carry in his mind the exact image of an object he may not see again. The Duke and Duchess stood behind him in expectant silence. But they both looked rather blank when he at length turned to them and affected to be studying a stain of rust on the blade. “That looks as though it might have been blood,” he said, tapping it with his finger nail. “Hah: do you think so?” returned the Duke in a non-committal tone. “Shouldn’t be surprised,” Playford replied in an abominably disappointing way. “But I’m not an analyst.” “Do you recognize the sword, Aubrey?” asked the Duchess, with manifestly restrained impatience. Playford looked at her with a fine assumption of surprise. “No. Why? Ought I to?” he asked. “Do you know the owner?” “I thought you did,” she returned pointedly. He handed it back with a laugh. “Not I. It is not an uncommon device. I fancy even Scotland Yard will have some trouble in following up that clue. Thanks for letting me see it, Duchess. I’m afraid I have rather a taste for the morbid.”