newspapers—till to-morrow, so don’t you go and tell anybody. You see, we don’t want to frighten the fellow off. If he knew they’d got his knife—well, he might just make himself scarce, and they don’t want that! If it’s discovered that any knife of that kind was sold, say a month ago, to some customer whose ways are known, then—then"
"What’ll happen then?" said Mrs. Bunting, coming nearer.
"Well, then, nothing’ll be put about it in the papers at all," said Chandler deliberately. "The only objec’ of letting the public know about it would be if nothink was found—I mean if the search of the shops, and so on, was no good. Then, of course, we must try and find out someone—some private person-like, who’s watched that knife in the criminal’s possession. It’s there the reward—the five hundred pounds will come in."
"Oh, I’d give anything to see that knife!" exclaimed Daisy, clasping her hands together.
"You cruel, bloodthirsty, girl!" cried her stepmother passionately.
They all looked round at her, surprised.
"Come, come, Ellen!" said Bunting reprovingly.
"Well, it is a horrible idea!" said his wife sullenly. "To go and sell a fellow-being for five hundred pounds."
But Daisy was offended. "Of course I’d like to see it!" she cried defiantly. "I never said nothing about the reward. That was Mr. Chandler said that! I only said I’d like to see the knife."
Chandler looked at her soothingly. "Well, the day may come when you will see it," he said slowly.
