“It is.”
“When did you have it last?”
“It was on my dresser when I came down to dinner.”
“Have you a permit?”
“I have. I have carried a weapon for years. A lone lady, you know,” she smiled.
“Why did you leave it on your dresser?”
“I had taken it from my handbag when I was fishing for my lipstick. I neglected to return it.”
Belknap stood directly in front of her, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
“I saw it there myself not later than one-thirty, or two. Your window was open to the balcony. It was when I went to close it that I saw the figure on the terrace which I am willing to swear was that of Dorn.”
“You are forever ringing your Milton Dorn in on this, Belknap. For God’s sake produce him.”