The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-08-25
}A WOMAN'S { ] ENCHANTMENT} 3 ( By William Le Queux ,
 Copyright, 1909, by William Le Queux
y William Le Queux
Copyright, 1909, by William Le Queux
(COntinued.l

(COnttnued.)
 "If we can only find that maid." Morton said. moment later, then shed tell us something. Without the identity of the victim being establish
 ed we're in the dark. RendeI of the special department is coming down
 he thinks. The woman is a foreigner, Italian or Spanish most likely. There fore there's a suggestion of anarchist vengeance. of course. And RendelPs
 au expert among the Soho crowd, as you know"
 I was reserving my own knowledge
 and my own suspicious to myself.
 My eyes fell upon the curtain torn from its pole, and the sheet with the
 thing cold and still beneath it. An! if only dare tell those men all knew! And yet if I did I should place my friend Granny beneath suspicion which might or might not be justified.
 I could see that Morton was puzzled.
 True, he was directing the inquiries, and his companions were all of them
 picked men-men whose names were
 constantly in the papers As clever and
 successful investigators Of crime. But the absence of motive-indeed, the ab- sence of any tangible cause of death precluded him from forming any clear and distinct theory.
 That there had been desperate struggle in that room. and that some one had left the house fearing to arouse the neighbors or any passer-by in the street by slamming the front door, was quite plain. But was that person an assassin?
 known as Jock uttered a ory and ex- claimed: 's
 ItHulloa. what's this mean?" And crossing from near the fireplace he poignard, with thin tapering blade bad ly trusted, but still keen as razor at the edges, the cross-hilt of which.
 battered and clipped. was of tortoise sheEeand mother-of-pearl.
 held my breath and stood In
 deadly fear that the pallor of my cheeks might be noticed.
 I saw Morton handle the old weapon
 carefully, turning it over and over, and examining the blade minutely.
 There was. however, nol blood upon
 "A curio evidently" was his remark.
 ter. But a formidable weapon never
 theless," he added, grasping it's hilt
 and making a downward stab in the
 air. it was handed to me. How I took it scarcely know.
 But with breathless eagerness ex-
 amined the hilt. Yes, There upon center were rough initials-my initials, .P. R.", that my little nephew Paul had one day long ago scratched with a pin. Fortunately they had not yet OGou 'QlSCOVeTcO. put xl0 0OuOS tACy would be ere long. That old dagger was mine! had recognized it in an instant as the one had purchased of the old Jew at the corner of the Piazza Sar Marco in Padua ten years before. and which had lain on the sideboard in my chambers ever since.
 I had noticed 1t there only the prev ious day, and had cut a piece of string
 with it because I could not find my scissors.
 Granny Cough must have taken it on the previous night while my back had been turned to get a fresh eiphon! I remembered that he had been pacing the room at that moment. What had really occurred within that now disordered drawing room? I held the old weapon in my hand, un- able to speak. Then I gave it back to Mor ton in silence. It was clear that the woman had not been killed by it, while it was also equally clear that Granny had visited the house after parting from me in St. Martins lane. At last my morbid curiosity got the better of me, and crossing the room I fell on one knee and slowly lifted the
 sheet from the face of the dead wo- man.
 Next second uttered an involuntary cry of surprise and awe.
 The hlanched, lifeless countenance was not that of the woman pointed out to me as Lydia Popescu!.