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"And the devil has got his due, my lads!"
No, not yet: there was still one priceless soul for him to wait for.
"He was stabbed," repeated Uncle Loveday, "stabbed to the heart, and
from behind. I found this blade as I examined your poor father's
body. It was broken off close to the hilt, and left in the wound,
which can hardly have bled at all. Death must have been immediate.
It's a strange business, Jasper, and a strange blade by the look of
it."
I took the blade from his hand. It was about four inches in length,
sharp, and curiously worked: one side was quite plain, but the other
was covered with intricate tracery, and down the centre, bordered
with delicate fruit and flowers, I spelt out the legend "Ricordati."
"What does that word mean?" I asked, as I handed back the steel.
My voice was so calm and steady that Uncle Loveday glanced at me for
a moment in amazement before he answered--
"It's not Latin, Jasper, but it's like Latin, and I should think must
mean 'Remember,' or something of the sort."
"'Remember,'" I repeated.


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