"You are sure the bed has been disturbed?" Brierly asked.
"Certain of it!"
"And can you guess why?"
"Well, he always kept his pistol under the bolster."
The men started and looked at each other. "What an oversight," murmured the doctor.
"Do you mean," went on the enquiry, "that it was there yesterday morning when you made the bed?"
"I can't say, sir. The fact is, I was awfully afraid of the thing, and when I told him I was, he put it clear under the bolster with his own hand, and said it should stay there, instead of on top, as it used to be at first."
"You don't mean that he left it there during the day?"
"Yes, sir! This one. You see he had two. The one he used to practise with—the one they found—was different. This one was bigger and different somehow, and not like any pistol I ever saw. He told me 'twas a foreign weapon."
"She is right," said Brierly. "My brother brought a pair of duelling pistols from Paris. They were elaborately finished. He gave me one of them." He looked anxiously toward the crushed and displaced pillows. "Shall we not look," he asked, "and find
