“It was the same make,” she said, “as the one I’d been shooting, I know that.”
“But there’s nothing about it which will enable you absolutely to identify it, is there?”
“No,” she said slowly, “there isn’t.”
“Now then, at eight o’clock Saturday night, you returned to the office and put that gun which was in your purse in the drawer, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Was there any other gun in the drawer at that time?”
“No.”
“How were you dressed when you returned that gun to the office?”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I had on street clothes.”
“Were you wearing gloves?”