Tarling put the receiver to his ear.
"It is Whiteside," said a voice. "Is that you, Mr. Tarling? We've found the revolver."
"Where?" asked Tarling quickly.
"In the girl's flat," came the reply.
Tarling's face fell. But after all, that was nothing unexpected. He had no doubt in his mind at all that the murder had been committed in Odette Rider's flat, and, if that theory were accepted, the details were unimportant, as there was no reason in the world why the pistol should not be also found near the scene of the crime. In fact, it would have been remarkable if the weapon had not been discovered on those premises.
"Where was it?" he asked.
"In the lady's work-basket," said Whiteside. "Pushed to the bottom and covered with a lot of wool and odds and ends of tape."
"What sort of a revolver is it?" asked Tarling after a pause.
"A Colt automatic," was the reply. "There were six live cartridges in the magazine and one in the breach. The pistol had evidently been fired, for the barrel was foul. We've also found the spent bullet in the fireplace. Have you found your Miss Stevens?"
"Yes," said Tarling quietly. "Miss Stevens is Odette Rider."