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Yet having done so, I saw that any attempt to conceal my knowledge
must of necessity reflect upon me.
"I will see your inspector," I answered with as much calmness as I could
muster. "Where has the poor fellow been wounded?"
"Through the heart," responded the constable, as turning the sheet
further down he showed me the small knife wound which had penetrated the
victim's jacket and vest full in the chest.
"This is the weapon," he added, taking from a shelf close by a long,
thin poignard with an ivory handle, which he handed to me.
In an instant I recognized what it was, and how deadly. It was an old
Florentine _misericordia_, a long thin, triangular blade, a quarter of
an inch wide at its greatest width, tapering to a needle-point, with a
hilt of yellow ivory, the most deadly and fatal of all the daggers and
poignards of the Middle Ages. The blade being sharp on three angles
produced a wound that caused internal hemorrhage and which never
healed--hence the name given to it by the Florentines.


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