"But the papers say she isn't Mrs. Minchin any longer," the officer added. "Well, well! There's no accounting for taste."
"But Mrs. Minchin was acquitted," remarked Langholm, in tone as impersonal as he could make it.
"Ye-es," drawled his guide, dryly. "Well, it's not for us to say anything about that."
"But you think all the more, I suppose?"
"There's only one opinion about it in the Yard."
"But surely you haven't given up trying to find out who really did murder Mr. Minchin?"
"We think we did find out, sir," was the reply to that.
So they had given it up! For a single second the thought was stimulating; if the humble author could succeed where the police had failed! But the odds against such success were probably a million to one, and Langholm sighed as he handled the weapon with which the crime had been committed, in the opinion of the police.
"What makes you so certain that this was the revolver?" he inquired, more to satisfy his conscience by leaving no question unasked than to voice any doubt upon the point.
The other smiled as he explained the peculiarity of the pistol; it had been made in Melbourne, and it carried the bullet of peculiar size which had been extracted from Alexander Minchin's body.