“One empty chamber,” he announced, with satisfaction. “And it’s been shot off recently. . . . This oughta get us somewheres.” He wrapped the revolver tenderly in a handkerchief and placed it in his coat pocket. “I’ll get Dubois busy on this for finger-prints; and I’ll have Cap Hagedorn[19] check up on the bullets.”
“Really now, Sergeant,” said Vance banteringly; “do you imagine that the gentleman we’re looking for would wipe a bow and arrow clean and then leave his digital monogram on a revolver?”
“I haven’t got your imagination, Mr. Vance,” returned Heath surlily. “So I’m going ahead doing the things that oughta be done.”
“You’re quite right.” Vance smiled with good-natured admiration at the other’s dogged thoroughness. “Forgive me for trying to damp your zeal.”
He turned to Belle Dillard.
“We came here primarily to see the professor and Mr. Arnesson. But there’s also a matter we’d like to speak about to you.—We understand you have a key to the rear door of the Drukker house.”
She gave him a puzzled nod.
“Yes; I’ve had one for years. I run back and forth so much; and it saves Lady Mae a lot of bother. . . .”
“Our only interest in the key is that it might have been used by some one who had no right to it.”
“But that’s impossible. I’ve never lent it to any one. And I always keep it in my hand-bag.”