“It’s at the club,” he explained sulkily.
“Is it, really! Well, I didn’t find it anyway; but I did see the revolver.—Are you quite sure it’s gone?”
“Don’t be absurd,” the man growled. “I’ve searched everywhere for it. . . . Including your room,” he added vengefully.
“Oh, you would! But why did you admit having it in the first place?” Her tone was scornful. “Why involve yourself unnecessarily?”
Chester shifted uneasily.
“This gentleman”—he again pointed impersonally to Heath—“asked me if I owned a revolver, and I told him ‘yes.’ If I hadn’t, some of the servants or one of my loving family would have told him. And I thought the truth was best.”
Sibella smiled satirically.
“My older brother, you observe, is a model of all the old-fashioned virtues,” she remarked to Vance. But she was obviously distraite. The revolver episode had somewhat shaken her self-assurance.
“You say, Miss Greene, that the burglar idea does not appeal to you.” Vance was smoking languidly with half-closed eyes. “Can you think of any other explanation for the tragedy?”
The girl raised her head and regarded him calculatingly.