He picked it up carefully.
I bent over to look at it more closely and there, in Garrick's
hand, was a tiny bit of steel, scarcely three-eighths of an inch
long, a mere speck. It was like nothing of which I had ever heard
or read. Yet Garrick himself seemed to regard the minute thing
with a sort of awe. As for me, I knew not what to make of it. I
wondered whether it might not be some new peril.
"What is it?" I asked at length, seeing that Garrick might be
disposed to talk, if I prompted him.
"Well," he answered laconically, holding it up to the light so
that I could see that it was in reality a very minute, pointed
hollow tube, "what would you say if I told you it was the point of
a new--er--poisoned needle?"
He said it in such a simple tone that I reacted from it toward my
own preconceived notions of the hysterical newspaper stories.
"I've heard about all the poisoned needle stories," I returned.
"I've investigated some of them and written about them for my
paper, Guy.
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