The St. Johns herald., 1921-10-27
CHAPTER VII.
| Seek Miss conrad-The Threads Be-
 come Tangled.

[ Seek Miss conrad-The Threads Be-
 come Tangled.
 I grasped the thing in my hand, holding it up incredulously into what ever faint light I could find. There was no question as to its identity; I could not doubt. This was the same peculiar ornament had observed that evening in the girls hat, or else it's exact mate. 1 recalled the quaint shape of the miniature hilt too clearly to be mistaken. Then this car was the one in which she had departed with Gustave Ava two hours before. What had occurred in the meanwhile? Some thing serious evidently. The dagger on the floor would indicate a struggle, or at least hasty departure from the vehicle.
 stood staring at it, slowly compre- hending the probable meaning of those dark stains on the blade. Their na- ture could not be determined in so dim light, yet when touched them with my finger it became discolored. My God could 1t be blood? Blood it was blood; then this had been a scene of tragedy, of awful crime perhaps. The discovery sickened me. but l had to go on. I wrenched open the for ward door and peered fearfully with in. I could not but know instantly what I saw-a dim, huddled form leaning forward across the steering wheel, one hand yet on the spOkes, with head dangling helplessly, upheld only by contact with the windshield.
 knew the man, was dead before I touched the cold hand; his very pos ture told that-and how he had died instantly, from a stab in the back. l could not see his features, the dark me to pass my hand over the con- cealed face; the upturned mustache, the exposed teeth, griRning ironically in death, left no doubt as to who he was-the Chilean soldier and attache, Captain Ava. The awful horror of it paralyzed my very brain. She must have done this! That girl must have killed himI But why? for what req son? for what purpose? Could 1t have been in answer to insult? Had the man dared to press his advances once they were alone? and had she re- sisted? I would not question his in- clination, yet this was not possible. The knife lay on the floor behind him, just as plucked, bloOd-stained, from the wound. The girl, then, was not even riding beside him; she could not be to have dealt such a blow-she must have been alone in the rear seat. There in the dark, unnOticed by the man driving, she had leaned forward, and driven that sharp blade unerring- ly home to the heart. He had sus- pected nothing in time to raise even an arm in self-defense. Then. dazed, frightened by her terrible deed, for getful even of the knife in her terror, she has daSLed it to the floor and fled into the darkness, leaving the rear door open behind her.
 That was the story; that must be the story. My mind pictured the scene in all its horror. Yet what could ac- count for such an act? What cause could transform this woman, this smiling-faced girl, into a murderess? Her leaving that weapon behind would seem to proclaim that the deed was done in haste, on the spur of the moment; that it had not been in any way premeditated and planned. Oth- erwise she would have guarded against such danger of discovery. Why, that carelessness alone might ruin every hope of escape, might bring her to the electric chair-it vas damning evidence.