“No,” he replied; “if it’s any consolation to you, I’m far from exhausted yet.”
“That’s reassuring,” she retorted. “You haven’t taken my gun.”
Having forgotten it for the moment, he flushed a little, and she watched him with unconcealed amusement while he opened the weapon and took out the cartridges.
“What’s that for?” she asked impertinently. “It’s hammerless; there’s nothing to catch.”
“The pull-off’s probably very light, if it’s been made for a lady’s use. It’s sometimes possible to jar the strikers down when they set the springs to yield at a touch.”
“Then you know something about guns?” she said, as if she had not expected this.
“Not a great deal about the scatter kind, though I’ve stripped a few.”
“We never do that,” she informed him. “We send them to London. Still, you’re right; the gun did go off when I knocked it jumping down from a wall.”
“If you’ll let me have it to-night, I’ll alter that. I understand we’re going out again to-morrow.”
She considered a moment.