"You don't need to touch the bolt to cock the rifle," said Cook. "I'll lay my life White didn't. You want to get hold of the cocking-piece, behind the bolt - this thing - and pull it gently back like this, until the nose of the sear - that's the piece which the top end of the trigger acts on - the bit that holds the firing-block back - catches in the bent. It won't do more than just catch, and you don't want to jog the gun, because it only needs a touch to set it off."
Hemingway, who had been watching Cook suit his actions to his words, drew back as Cook cautiously released the cocking-pin. "Jog it! I'm taking precious good care not to breathe on it. Why haven't I got a brother in the gun-trade? The silly fellow travels in some kind of patent baby-food. A lot of use that's ever been to me, or likely to be! You got that fixed up yet, Wake?"
Wake, who had been attaching one end of the flex to the electro-magnet, rose to his feet. "All set, sir. Shall I switch on?"
"The sooner the better: the suspense is killing me," said Hemingway.
Wake moved across to the wall-plug, and turned the switch on it. The horseshoe magnet shot forward, towards the electromagnet, the closed end hitting the trigger, and so releasing the mainspring.
"And that," said Hemingway, as the rifle clicked, "is that, gentlemen! I said it was a pleasure to deal with Mr. Harold White!"
"I'll have to say it's been a pleasure to see you deal with him, sir," said Wake, making amends for past scepticism. "I don't mind admitting I thought you were on to a wildgoose chase this time."
Inspector Cook got up from the floor. "Yes, but there's something that's bothering me," he said. "They're not wired for electricity at the Dower House."
Hemingway looked at him in pardonable annoyance. "I never met such a set of kill joys! Are you sure of that?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure. They make their own electricity at Palings, but Mrs. Carter never had the Dower House wired. They use oil-lamps."