and dismay. Sullivan's face grew ghastly, and he sat down weakly on the nearest chair.
The detective looked at him shrewdly, then at Alison's agitated face.
"Where have you seen this dagger before, young lady?" he asked, kindly enough.
"Oh, don't ask me!" she gasped breathlessly, her eyes turned on Sullivan. "It's—it's too terrible!"
"Tell him," I advised, leaning over to her. "It will be found out later, anyhow."
"Ask him," she said, nodding toward Sullivan.
The detective unwrapped the small box Alison had brought, disclosing the trampled necklace and broken chain. With clumsy fingers he spread it on the table and fitted into place the bit of chain. There could be no doubt that it belonged there.
"Where did you find that chain?" Sullivan asked hoarsely, looking for the first time at Alison.
"On the floor, near the murdered man's berth."
"Now, Mr. Sullivan," said the detective civilly, "I believe you can tell us, in the light of these
