"I am sorry that your knife is rusty," resumed Forester. "Perhaps I
can get it open for you."
"How?" asked Marco.
"Why, I believe the best way is to soak the joint in oil. The oil will
insinuate itself into the joint, and then we can get hold of the blade
with a pair of nippers, or something of the kind, and open it; and
then, by working it to and fro a few times, the rust will work out,
and the knife be as good as it was before. If it is very rusty indeed,
this plan will not answer."
"What must be done in that case?" asked Marco.
"The only way then is to carry it to some kind of smith and get him to
punch out the rivet. Then we can take the blade out entirely. By this
means we can clean it of its rust, and then put it in again with a new
rivet. If you will give me your knife to-morrow, I will try to put it
in order for you again, in one or the other of these ways.
"And now," continued Forester, after a short pause, "it is time for me
to go down, unless you have something which you wish to say."
Although it was not unusual for Forester to close his evening
conversation in this manner, Marco's attention was particularly
arrested by the excellent opportunity which this remark afforded him
to make his confession.
