amount to very much. I am told it is a
favourite weapon among your people, and has become quite popular over
here.'

Mr Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case.
'Yes, sir,' he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; 'the
captain is right. This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and I
dare say there are duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets
this minute. I consider it too light in the hand myself,' Mr Bunner went
on, mechanically feeling under the tail of his jacket, and producing an
ugly looking weapon. 'Feel of that, now, Mr Trent--it's loaded, by the
way. Now this Little Arthur--Marlowe bought it just before we came over
this year to please the old man. Manderson said it was ridiculous for a
man to be without a pistol in the twentieth century. So he went out and
bought what they offered him, I guess--never consulted me. Not but
what it's a good gun,' Mr Bunner conceded, squinting along the sights.
'Marlowe was poor with it at first, but I've coached him some in the
last month or so, and he's practised until he is pretty good. But he
never could get the habit of carrying it around. Why, it's as natural to
me as wearing my pants. I have carried one for some years now, because
there was always likely to be somebody laying for Manderson. And now,'
Mr Bunner concluded sadly, 'they got him when I wasn't around. Well,
gentlemen, you must excuse me. I am going into Bishopsbridge. There is
a lot to do these days, and I have to send off a bunch of cables big
enough to choke a cow.'

'I must be off too,' said Trent. 'I have an appointment at the "Three
Tuns" inn.'

Let me give you a lift in the automobile,' said Mr Bunner cordially. 'I
go right by that joint. Say, cap., are you coming my way too? No? Then
come along, Mr Trent, and help me get out the car. The chauffeur is out
of action, and we have to do 'most everything ourselves except clean the
dirt off her.'

Still tirelessly talking in his measured drawl, Mr Bunner led Trent
downstairs and through the house to the garage at the back. It stood at
a little distance from the house, and made a cool retreat from the blaze
of the midday sun.

Mr Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered Trent
a cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. Then
he seated himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands clasped
between his knees, and looked keenly at the other.

'See here, Mr Trent