It was not a tool, but a weapon.
Why was it there, and, above all, how did it come there?
He distinctly remembered locking the door overnight.

Indeed, he had found it locked, and the window-shutters bolted; yet there was this deadly weapon, and on its point a letter, the superscription of which looked hostile and sinister.
He drew the note gently across the edge of the keen knife, and the paper parted like a cobweb.

He took it to the window and read it.

It ran thus: "This knifs wun of too made ekspres t'other is for thy hart if thou doesnt harken Trade and leve Chetm.

Is thy skin thicks dore thinks thou if not turn up and back to Lundon or I cum again and rip thy ---- carkiss with feloe blade to this thou -- -- cokny "SLIPER JACK.".