Mitchell stared at the revolver for several seconds. It lay just under the gear shift. Putting on his gloves, Mitchell picked it up gingerly.
“Have you handled the revolver, Allen?” he asked.
“No, sir. After the doctor and the nurse came, I returned here and put out the headlights which Miss Baird had left burning; then I saw the revolver lying just there on the floor of the car.”
A step behind him caused Mitchell to turn around.
“Hello, what have you there?” asked Ben Potter.
“A revolver.” Mitchell held it so that Allen’s torch fell directly upon it. “And a revolver which has been recently discharged judging from the smell of burnt powder.”
Potter whistled, then bent down for a better look. “By heaven!” he exclaimed. “That’s Kitty’s revolver. I had her initials engraved upon it—see—”
And turning the revolver slightly, Mitchell was able to decipher the letters on the plate: “K.B.”