"Why was this dropped in here?" uttered Mrs. Bordine, as she laid the
ugly, yet beautiful, weapon aside, and went about securing the window
against further intrusion.
"August sent it, that horrible man said. If so, why did he not come to
the door like a decent person would?"
Sure enough.
The door to her son's room stood ajar, and mechanically Mrs. Bordine
entered here with the delicate dagger in her hand.
The plush-lined dressing-case in front of the mirror stood open, and into
this the widow laid the glittering toy.
Shutting down the cover she left the room, and resumed her seat in the
big arm-chair.
As may be supposed, no sleep visited the old lady that night. She was too
deeply worried on account of the strange happenings of the night. Nothing
occurred to mar the quiet of the night, and when at length day dawned the
widow breathed easier as she went about her work.
The hour was late ere she placed breakfast on the table. She had waited
for the return of August, but waited in vain.
"He will not come. I must eat alone."
She was yet at her breakfast when a furious ring at the door-bell
startled her.
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