"A one-inch bore with a modified choke," said the Scot. "I have a pair that I favor. Excellent weapons."
"Of Scottish make?"
"No, no. English. Your London gunsmiths can't be beat for shotguns."
"Oh. I thought perhaps your lordship had had all your guns made in Scotland." As he spoke, he took the little pistol out of his coat pocket and put it carefully on the table.
There was a sudden silence, then Laird Duncan said in an angry voice: "What is this? Where did you get that?"
Lord Darcy glanced at Lady Duncan, who had turned suddenly pale. "Perhaps," he said coolly, "Lady Duncan can tell us."
She shook her head and gasped. For a moment, she had trouble in forming words or finding her voice. Finally: "No. No. I know nothing. Nothing."
But Laird Duncan looked at her oddly.
"You do not deny that it is your gun, my lord?" Lord Darcy asked. "Or your wife's, as the case may be."
