“Ah, hmmm.” Blankenhagen sorted ribs. Then he held one up. “Yes, it is possible to see the mark of the blade. It passed along the inner surface. It would then presumably have pierced the heart.”

He dropped the brittle ivory bone back onto the jacket and wiped his hands on his knees.

“A murder?” George said interestedly. “Who’s the victim? Silly question, I guess, after all this time.”

“Oh, no,” said Tony, in a lazy drawl I knew very well. “No doubt about his identity. This was the steward of Count Burckhardt. His name was Nicolas Duvenvoorde.”

He picked up the tarnished ornament.

“This was a clasp or badge worn on the doublet. You can see the Drachenstein arms, and, if you strain your eyes, the initials N. D. Maybe it was a present from the count, for meritorious service. The scraps of clothing are right for the period, and suitable for a man of respectable but non-noble rank. There’s a pair of leather boots down there, too. They are pretty moldy, so I didn’t bring them up, but here are the spurs that went with them. Traveling costume, that’s what he was wearing.” He produced some bits of leather, which did indeed have a mildewed look. “This was a pouch, which was worn at the belt. These coins were probably inside it. Here’s a thirty-kreuzer bit from Würzburg, dated fifteen hundred thirteen, and an imperial florin with a head of Charles the Fifth and a date of fifteen hundred twenty-three. And the last bit of evidence, if we need one, is the dagger itself. On the hilt is the dragon and stone, the Drachenstein crest. The workmanship is too fancy for a servant’s weapon. This curlicue under the crest seems to be Burckhardt’s personal mark. You can see the same design on his tomb.”

He turned the flashlight beam to the right, where it illumined the shield at the shoulder of the reclining knight on the next stone.

“In fact,” Tony concluded, “we can not only identify the victim, but we can hazard a good guess as to the murderer.”

There was a brief, impressed silence, during which Tony vainly tried to look modest.

“By God,” George exclaimed, “I have to hand it to you, Tony. That’s a damned good piece of detective work.”

“Seconded,” I said briefly.

Tony smirked.

“Oh, well, anyone could have done it. Anyone who knew his history and had a logical mind, trained in deductive techniques—”

I interrupted. I hope I am a good sport, but I do not care for blatant egotism.

“Now that we’ve got him, what are we going to do with him?”

“We must notify the Gräfin,” Blankenhagen said stiffly. Now that the first excitement was over and his curiosity had been satisfied, he had relapsed into his normal state of cold disapproval. “I do not know what her wishes will be; if it were I, I should call on the good father from Rothenburg.”