She answered as she walked across the room to a desk under the gallery:
“It’s the one Mr. Driscoll gave me, thinking it might be useful when I was here alone, opening or closing the house. I was to keep it loaded and have it handy, but I’d trust my tongue to get rid of any man and here it’s lain with the poker chips.” She pulled out a side-drawer of the desk. “There!” she exclaimed, turning on them in gloomy triumph, “What did I tell you! It’s gone.”
Bassett looked into the drawer:
“You’re sure it was here?”
“Didn’t I see it this morning when I put away the counters you were playing with last night?”
“Umph!” Bassett banged the drawer shut in anger. “I’ll see that this is explained to Mr. Driscoll. And whoever’s taken it, they’ll get what’s coming to them. A damned fool performance! To get us in wrong just as we were leaving——”
The hall door opened and Stokes entered.
“Who’s shooting round here?” he said. “I thought it was taboo.”
“That’s just what we want to know. Where were you?”
“Sitting out on the balcony.”