question.

"So it is!" cried Elsie. "How on earth could it have got into the pond?"

"I suppose some one threw it in," answered her brother. "It couldn't
have walked or flown there of its own accord."

"But why should any one throw a knife into the pond? Who could have done
such a silly thing?"

"Oh, ask me something easier," laughed Guy. "All I know is, 'twasn't my
doing."

"Let's have a look," said Brian, holding out his hand. "The point's
broken, and the little plated knob from the end has gone."

He took the knife and examined it more closely.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Look at the blade. That's queer."

"What? what?" demanded the others.

"Why, something's been done to it; it's as thin as paper."

The knife blade certainly presented a curious appearance. Though
maintaining its original form and size, it seemed to have wasted away
until it was scarcely thicker than a sheet of note-paper. It was
probably owing to this fact that the point had snapped off when it
came into contact with the bricks at the bottom of the pond.

"Perhaps the water has made it go like that," suggested Elsie.

"Oh no," answered her cousin. "You can see where it's rusty. It must
have been ground or rubbed down on a stone."

"But why should any one grind a knife blade as thin as that?" asked the
girl. "If you tried to cut anything, the blade would bend all up or
break."

"The best thing for us to do will be to take it indoors and show it to
the mater," said Guy. "I expect she'll be jolly surprised when she hears
we found it in the pond."

"Wait half a minute," answered Brian, who was always practical. "Let me
get my ship out first."

The rake was once more thrust out, and the end lowered into the water;
after two unsuccessful attempts the whereabouts of the sunken _Fury_ was
discovered, and she was carefully dragged to the edge of the pond.

"There!" said Brian, as he carefully emptied the water out of the little
craft. "That's where she leaks. I'll stop that up before we try her
again. Now let's go and find aunt, and show her the knife."

Elsie walked along beside the others in silence; she was dying to say
something, but was afraid to speak. Brian's statement that the knife
blade must have been reduced by grinding or rubbing on a stone had at
once reminded her of her midnight, or, rather, early morning adventure.
Could it have been this poultry-carver that the mysterious intruder
was working at when she had awoke and seen