“Can you tell me if I am likely to get a cab at this time of night?” I asked as lightly as I could. I wanted to hear his voice.

But he returned no answer, merely gazing at me as before, without a movement.

“Strange!” I said, half to myself. “The fellow must be deaf, or mad, or a foreigner.”

The man smiled slightly, his lips drooping to a sneer. I retreated, and as I stepped back on the curb my foot touched some small object. I looked down, and in the dim light, for the dawn was already heralded, I saw the glitter of jewels. I stooped and picked the thing up. It was the same little dagger which but a few hours before I had seen Rosa present with so much formality to Sir Cyril Smart. But there was this difference — the tiny blade was covered with blood!