"What are they?" he asked.
"They look like two bullets fired at the holder of the revolver some years ago, which missed him but caught the butt."
Whiteside laughed.
"Is that a piece of your deduction, Mr. Tarling?" he asked.
"No," said Tarling, "that is a bit of fact. That pistol is my own!"
CHAPTER XVI
THE HEIR
"Your pistol?" said Whiteside incredulously, "my dear good chap, you are mad! How could it be your pistol?"
"It is nevertheless my pistol," said Tarling quietly. "I recognised it the moment I saw it on your desk, and thought there must be some mistake. These furrows prove that there is no mistake at all. It has been one of my most faithful friends, and I carried it with me in China for six years."