“Because I did not know it myself,” Godfrey replied. “When I told the magistrate that I had never seen it before, it was the truth. I did not buy a knife in Cairo, so how could I have brought one home with me?” “But who could have placed it behind the bookcase, if you did not?” asked the lawyer. “That is more than I can say,” said Godfrey simply. “Look here, Mr. Henderson,” said Codey sharply, “I have met a good many unsuspicious men in my time, but I don’t think I have ever met one so unsuspicious as you are. I have a list of all the people in your house at the moment when that box arrived. Let us run it over. There was your mother, your sister, and your _fiancée_, Miss Devereux. As our friend Burrell would say, they may be dismissed from the case without delay. Your butler and footman are old family servants, as are the housekeeper, the cook, and the head parlour-maid. They may also be dismissed. The remainder of the household would be scarcely likely to possess a knife of that description, so we will dismiss them also. There remains only yourself and Mr. Fensden. You declare you are innocent, and we will presume that you are. Now, Mr. Fensden, by his evidence has placed you where you are. That is certain. You say that he lied as to the fact of your being in love with the woman who is dead, and also when he said that you purchased the knife in Cairo. You say that he came to stay with you on the day that the murder was discovered--why should he not have placed it behind the bookcase, in order that it should be another incriminating point against you?” “I can not believe that he would do such a thing,” said Godfrey. “He would not be so base.” “I am not so sure of it,” said the astute lawyer. “What is more, I made a curious discovery to-day. The man in question pretends to be your friend. He gives his evidence with reluctance. Yet I noticed that when that knife was produced his face betrayed neither surprise nor emotion. Had he had your interests at heart, would he have been so callous? Answer me that! Now you have my reasons for arguing that he knew where the knife was, and also the man who had placed it there.” “The suspicions you suggest are too horrible,” said Godfrey, rising and pacing the cell. “What possible reason could he have for doing me such an injury?” “One never knows. There are some men who hate the man who is supposed to be their best friend, either because he, the friend, has been successful in money-making, in love, or perhaps he presumes him to be happier than himself. You are rich; he is poor. You have been successful in your profession; he has been a failure. His hatred, like hundreds, might have begun with jealousy and have terminated in this. I have known more unlikely things.” “In that case what am I to do?”