“All his clothes were split new.”
“Anything else?”
“He carried a revolver—I mean an automatic.”
“What size was it?”
“About that length.”
The valet indicated the length approximately with his hands, and winced slightly as he moved the bandaged one.
“H’m! A .38 or a .45,” Armadale commented. “Too big for a .22, anyway.”
He took up his pencil again.
“Now come to this afternoon. Begin at lunchtime and go on.”
Marden reflected for a moment, as though testing his memory.