"Whose revolver is it?" I asked.
"Presumably Miss Kingdon's. We've not been able to find any evidence on that point. It wasn't bought here in Elizabeth. You see it's a foreign make."
I could decipher upon the barrel the letters "C & I, Paris." Godfrey examined it with eyes which were gleaming strangely. I watched him with a curious sinking of the heart, but he handed it back to the coroner without comment.
"Anything else?" he asked. "No trace of the watch?"
"No," and Haynes shook his head.
"How is Miss Kingdon?"
"A little quieter, but still delirious. She won't be able to testify to-morrow. We've got a trained nurse for her—the doctor thinks she'd better not be moved for a day or two."
"And no light as to the identity of the victim?"
"Not the slightest. I've found a cabman who saw him get off the 10.30 train from New York on the morning of the tenth. Then he went into a drugstore near the depot, and asked to look at a directory, afterwards asking the way to North Broad Street. He probably spoke to no one else till he stopped to ask Clemley where the Kingdons lived."
"He'd never been here before, then."