It was a pretty trinket, and contained, when found on the kitchen floor, exactly four cigarettes of excellent Turkish tobacco.

On one side of it was etched, in shadings of blue and white enamel, a helmet, surmounted by a falcon, poised for flight, and, beneath, the motto _Fide non armis_.

The back bore in English script, written large, the letters _F.A._ The men stared at each other wonderingly for an instant, then both leaped to their feet.
"It isn't possible!" gasped Durand.
"It is quite possible," replied Chauvenet.

"The emblem is unmistakable.
Good God, look!" The sweat had broken out on Chauvenet's face and he leaped to the chair where his coat hung, and caught up the garment with shaking hands.

The silk lining fluttered loose where Armitage had roughly torn out the envelope.
"Who is he?
Who is he ?" whispered Durand, very white of face.
"It may be--it must be some one deeply concerned." Chauvenet paused, drawing his hand across his forehead slowly; then the color leaped back into his face, and he caught Durand's arm so tight that the man flinched.
"There has been a man following me about; I thought he was interested in the Claibornes.