"In the lady's work-basket," said Whiteside. "Pushed to the bottom and covered with a lot of wool and odds and ends of tape."
"What sort of a revolver is it?" asked Tarling after a pause.
"A Colt automatic," was the reply. "There were six live cartridges in the magazine and one in the breach. The pistol had evidently been fired, for the barrel was foul. We've also found the spent bullet in the fireplace. Have you found your Miss Stevens?"
"Yes," said Tarling quietly. "Miss Stevens is Odette Rider."
He heard the other's whistle of surprise.
"Not yet," said Tarling. "Will you meet the next train in from Ashford? I shall be leaving here in half an hour."
He hung up the receiver and turned to the doctor.
"I gather they've found the weapon," said the interested medico.
"Yes," replied Tarling, "they have found the weapon."
"Humph!" said the doctor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A pretty bad business." He looked at the other curiously. "What sort of a man was Thornton Lyne?" he asked.
"Not the best of men, I'm afraid," he said; "but even the worst of men are protected by the law, and the punishment which will fall to the murderer----"
"Murderer," said Tarling shortly. "The punishment will not be affected by the character of the dead man."
Dr. Saunders puffed steadily at his pipe.
"It's rum a girl like that being mixed up in a case of this description," he said. "Most extraordinary."
There was a little tap at the door and the matron appeared.
"Miss Stevens is ready," she said, and Tarling rose.
Dr. Saunders rose with him, and, going to a shelf took down a large ledger, and placing it on his table, opened it and took up a pen.
"I shall have to mark her discharge," he said, turning over the leaves, and running his finger down the page. "Here she is--Miss Stevens, concussion and shock."
He looked at the writing under his hand and then lifted his eyes to the detective.
"When was this murder committed?" he asked.
"On the night of the fourteenth?" repeated the doctor thoughtfully. "At what time?"
"The hour is uncertain," said Tarling, impatient and anxious to finish his conversation with this gossiping surgeon; "some time after eleven."
"Some time after eleven," repeated the doctor. "It couldn't have been committed before. When was the man last seen alive?"