"I didand saved your life," the man who held me answered. "Why?"
"And you killed him?"
"Yes."
"The report sounded like a rifle shot."
"It was a pistol shot. But what matters, so long as he is dead?"
"Have you his revolver? Did you pick it up?" I asked anxiously.
"Yes."
"Show me both pistols."
My thoughts were travelling with extraordinary rapidity. Rather to my surprise he handed the pistols to me without a word. Quickly I held them in the light cast by the car's lamps and hurriedly examined them. Yes, both were weapons of the same calibre, both took the same cartridges. Below the barrel of Gastrell's revolver was the small electric lamp from which the light had shone on to my face. I gripped the pistol tightly and the light shone out again.
"I will return here in a moment," I said in French, as I moved away, for the man had released my arm.