"By the way do you know what became of Keesing's revolver? He's making a fuss about it."
"I haven't it," said Pen coolly.
"He said you took it from him," Riever said with a light laugh—but his eyes were tormented.
"He is mistaken," said Pen. "When he fell it flew out of his hand. I don't know what became of it."
"He said you carried it away in your hand."
"That was the pistol you gave me in the morning ... You saw it," she added, feeling pretty sure that Riever had been in no condition to distinguish one pistol from another.
"Why of course!" he said. "It's absurd." But there was no real conviction in his tones.
"If you'll wait a moment I'll get it for you," said Pen.
"Please don't bother," he said. "Keep it as a souvenir."
There was another silence. Pen saw that he dared not accuse her openly. The matter had to be threshed out to a conclusion, so she grasped her nettle firmly.