“It’s said to be quite old. Struck from a single large flint. The gentleman who brought it in told me his grandfather had turned it up while working in his garden. It set him off on a search for an ancient burial site, thinking there might be funeral goods. But to no end.” The proprietor took the object out of the case. “You can see how the blows were struck to shape the blade. Careful,” he added as he passed it to Rutledge. “It’s sharp enough to cut hide.”

Rutledge took the blade. “How was it used?”

“According to a Dr. Butler who comes in from time to time, it would have had a handle, a length of wood with a fork at one end, into which the blade would have been inserted.” He pointed to the blunt end. “See how it’s notched? Rawhide would be wrapped tightly around wood and blade, and perhaps soaked, for a tight fit. If you knew what you were about, you could flense a hide just with the blade, but if you were of a mind to stab a woolly mammoth, you’d need the handle for a sure grip. Short handle for jabbing, longer piece of wood for throwing. Of course, if this is as old as it’s said to be, the wood and the rawhide have long since rotted away. A pity, but there you are.”

“Yes, I see.” Rutledge gingerly tested an edge, and could see that it was quite remarkably sharp still. “Where did you say it was found?”

“I didn’t. But from what I was told, the old grandfather lived in East Anglia. There’s flint there, along the north coast.” He reached into the case again and drew out two or three unprepossessing round gray stones, and with them half of a stone, showing the shiny black surface of the flint inside. Rutledge was well aware of what flint looked like. But he let the proprietor continue his explanation of how flint tools could be made. “Stone Age or not, but whoever discovered how to do this sort of work must have had a monopoly in his day. Everyone came to him for their blades. Until someone else learned how to do it a little better or a little faster. Striking the blow in the right place to make a sharp edge rather than break the edge off—that’s the skill right there.”

Rutledge said after a moment, “A long way to come, to sell you this find.”

“I was of the same opinion.” The man shrugged. “But it’s a fine piece of its kind. Only it never sold. There’s not much call for something this old. I’ve kept it more as a curiosity than anything else. What’s a military shop without what must have been one of the first tools of war?”

“How do you remember who brought you each item?” Rutledge asked.