"No; but I shrewdly suspect it's the neighbour to it. Down at Cleopatra Villa there were a lot of these sort of things hanging against the wall, arranged in a kind of pattern. One side of the pattern was incomplete, and I found out from Miss Fenny that Miss Sarschine had taken one of the daggers, with a view to trying it on Calliston if he did not give up his design of eloping. She was mad with rage or she would never have thought of such an idea. Well--cannot you guess what follows?--she has the dagger with her--doubtless shows it to Myles Desmond during her stormy interview with him, and leaves the house in a rage. He follows her to try and take such a dangerous weapon from her--meets her in Jermyn Street--struggles to get it, and in the scuffle wounds herself; consequently she dies, and Myles Desmond keeps quiet lest he should be accused of murder." "Seems possible enough," said Ellersby, resuming his seat, "but I doubt its truth. However, the only thing to be done is to see Desmond, and find out what took place at Calliston's rooms. But tell me, what are you going to do with that other dagger?" "I want to find out if it's poisoned," said Dowker, handling it gingerly. "If it is, it will show that the other weapon was the one with which the crime was committed." "Will you allow me to look at it?" said Ellersby, stretching out his hand. "Certainly," replied the detective, and rising to his feet, he walked across to Ellersby to give him the dagger. Unluckily, however, just as he was handing it to him he stepped on Pickles, who with a growl of rage made a bite at his leg. In the sudden start Dowker let go the dagger, which fell upon Pickles' back, inflicting a slight wound. The detective gave a yell as the bulldog gripped him, but Ellersby pulled Pickles off, and Dowker, hobbling to a chair, sat down to nurse his wounded leg. It was not much hurt, however, as Pickles had got a mouthful of trousers instead of flesh. Alarmed as Dowker had been by the accident, he was not more alarmed than Ellersby, who sprang to his feet with an oath and rang the bell sharply. "Damn it!" he said furiously, "if that dagger is poisoned the dog will die! How could you be such a fool?" "You'd be the same, sir, if a devil of a dog bit you," said Dowker sulkily, not at all displeased at having the question of the dagger tested at once. "I'm very sorry." "Sorry be hanged!" said Ellersby savagely. "I wouldn't lose that dog for a hundred pounds. Here," to the waiter that entered, "send for a doctor at once--don't lose time, confound you!" at which the astonished waiter vanished promptly. Meanwhile all this time Pickles was lying down trying to lick his wound, and evidently wondering what all the fuss was about. Dowker watched him intently, and in a short time saw the dog was becoming drowsy. Ellersby picked up the dagger and was about to hurl it furiously back to Dowker, when the detective jumped up in alarm.