Markham thanked her and dismissed her. When she had gone, he looked at Vance questioningly.
"What idea did you have in your mind when you handed me those questions?"
"I might have been a bit presumptuous, y' know," said Vance; "but when the lady was extolling the deceased's popularity, I rather felt she was overdoing it a bit. There was an unconscious implication of antithesis in her eulogy, which suggested to me that she herself was not ardently enamored of the gentleman."
"And what put the notion of fire-arms into your mind?"
"That query," explained Vance, "was a corollary of your own questions about barred windows and Benson's fear of burglars. If he was in a funk about house-breakers or enemies, he'd be likely to have weapons at hand—eh, what?"
"Well, anyway, Mr. Vance," put in Heath, "your curiosity unearthed a nice little revolver that's probably never been used."
"By the bye, Sergeant," returned Vance, ignoring the other's good-humored sarcasm, "just what do you make of that nice little revolver?"
"Well, now," Heath replied, with ponderous facetiousness, "I deduct that Mr. Benson kept a pearl-handled Smith and Wesson in a secret drawer of his center-table."
"You don't say—really!" exclaimed Vance in mock admiration. "Pos'tively illuminatin'!"
Markham broke up this raillery.
"Why did you want to know about visitors, Vance? There obviously hadn't been anyone here."
