“I think it was.”
“What were you going to do?”
“Heaven help me! I am afraid I meant to shoot you.”
Once more Mike was trembling, and it seemed necessary for him to cling to the study table in order to stand.
“I’m glad you see fit to tell me the truth,” said Dick grimly. “Here are the bullets with which the pistol was loaded.”
He produced them and held them in the hollow of his hand.
“Silver bullets!” whispered Mike.
“Silver?”
“Yes.”
“Why silver?”