“That doesn’t interest me. I mean up-to-date weapons.”
“And a Colt revolver which I have in a drawer here.”
As he spoke, Colin Camber opened a drawer in his desk and took out a heavy revolver of the American Army Service pattern.
“I should like to examine it, if you please.”
Camber passed it to the Inspector, and the latter, having satisfied himself that none of the chambers were loaded, peered down the barrel, and smelled at the weapon suspiciously.
“If it has been recently used it has been well cleaned,” he said, and placed it on a cabinet beside him. “Anything else?”
“Nothing.”
“No sporting rifles?”
“None. I never shoot.”
“Oh, I see.”
The door opened and Mrs. Camber came in. She was very simply dressed, and looked even more child-like than she had seemed before. I think Ah Tsong had warned her of the nature of the ordeal which she was to expect, but her wide-eyed timidity was nevertheless pathetic to witness.
She glanced at me with a ghost of a smile, and:
“Ysola,” said Colin Camber, inclining his head toward me in a grave gesture of courtesy, “Mr. Knox has generously forgiven me a breach of good manners for which I shall never forgive myself. I beg you to thank him, as I have done.”
“It is so good of you,” she said, sweetly, and held out her hand. “But I knew you would understand that it was just a great mistake.”
