"I'll give you some hot port wine," said Myles, going to the sideboard and taking out a glass and a bottle, "so I'll have to go downstairs and get some hot water--you wait here." Flip groaned again and gyrated on the floor like a young eel; but when the door had closed behind his benefactor, he sprang to his feet and took a survey of the room. It was a large and lofty apartment, with a pair of folding doors on one side, which being half open showed Flip that the other room was a bed-room. There was a sideboard in the sitting-room and near this a writing-table, towards which Flip darted and commenced to turn over the papers rapidly with the idea of finding the dagger hidden underneath. Nothing however rewarded his efforts, and though he looked into the sideboard, examined the book-case and lifted up the covers of the chairs, he found no sign of the weapon. "Must be in the bed-room," thought Flip, scratching his head in perplexity and wondering how he could get in, when suddenly it occurred to him that he had not examined the mantel-piece. There was not a moment to be lost, as Myles might return at any moment, so in a second Flip scrambled up on a chair, and was eagerly looking among the ornaments on the mantel-piece. There was a mirror framed in tarnished gold, and in front of this a tawdry French clock under a glass shade, two Dresden china figures simpering at one another, and two tall green vases at each end. Flip saw nothing of what he wanted till he peered into one of these vases, when he saw something looking like steel, and drew forth a slender shining blade with no handle. "Wonder if this is what the guy'nor wants," he said to himself, turning it over gingerly, "tain't got no 'andle." He thought for a moment, and then, as he had been so lucky with one vase looked into the other, and found a cross handle--he joined the two and they fitted perfectly. Being certain this was what Dowker wanted, he was thinking how he could take it, when he heard Myles ascending the stairs. Jumping down he hid the broken blade and the handle securely among his rags, being very careful not to prick himself as he remembered Dowker's warning about the poison, then he lay down on the hearthrug again, and was groaning loudly when Myles entered with the hot water. "Feeling bad?" asked Myles sympathetically, pouring out some port wine. "Awful," groaned Flip feeling not a bit of compunction at the treacherous part he was playing. "It's cold I think--cold and 'unger." "Here drink this," said Desmond, kneeling down beside him, and giving him the steaming tumbler. "It will do you good." "Thanks, guv'nor," said Flip gratefully, feeling if the broken blade was all safe, "it 'ull warm me up."