He went to his desk, sat down heavily and opened one of the drawers. There were three guns in the drawer, and he placed them side by side on the desk top.
“This is Jimmy’s,” he said. “The middle one belongs to Moses Conley and the other is the one Pete killed Mallette with.”
Hashknife examined Jimmy’s gun. The hammer was still down on the exploded shell. It was a .45 caliber. He picked up Pete’s gun, a .45, single-action Colt. It was fully loaded and fairly clean.
“He had plenty of time to reload and clean it,” said the sheriff.
Hashknife nodded and put the gun back on the desk.
“There wasn’t any bullet in Mallette, eh?”
“Nope; went plumb through.”
Hashknife picked up Moses Conley’s gun. It was of the same model as Pete’s. There was an empty shell in one of the chambers. Hashknife slid it out and looked it over. Some one was coming down the sidewalk toward the office. Hashknife replaced the shell. He was half sitting on a corner of the desk.
Roaring Rigby was rolling a cigaret and Sleepy was busily examining a reward notice. Some one stopped at the open door, but Hashknife didn’t look up. His long fingers gripped the heavy revolver, a thumb drew back the hammer almost to full cock and let it slip.
Wham!