t fit the
wound. I know of no other caliber very close to it."

"An army rifle," suggested Delaney from the doorway.

"It is larger," said Nichols with a quick frown. "The modified
Lee-Enfields, which we are now using, have a greater bore than the
British or German rifles. They are about .30 caliber."

"Whatever the case," Drew said, "we must get to our first question. I'm
trying to find the truth and protect Miss Stockbridge from the police
in case she is suspected. Whose revolver is this? Who does it belong
to? How came she to have it so soon after meeting you in the corner
drug-store? Did she request it? Perhaps you will clear these points and
allow me to go ahead."

"Before I answer your questions, Mr. Drew, before I say anything at
all, I would rather have a talk with Miss Loris. You see, we are too
good friends to act apart. I'll answer for her. She is innocent! She is
too good, too pure to have anything to do with it. She never shot the
old--Mr. Stockbridge."

"He threw you out of the house on one occasion."

Harry Nichols clenched his fists. "I'll do the same to you!" he
exclaimed. "This is my apartment. What right have you got coming here
and accusing Loris? I don't care who you are!"

"Good!" said the detective, rising and stepping forward. "You said just
what I wanted you to say. And you said it like a man who can wear an
American uniform. Shake hands!"

Harry Nichols did not exactly brighten under the professional flattery.
He held out his fingers, however. Drew clasped his hand after
transferring the revolver to his left palm. He twirled it as he stepped
backward. "Clean," he said. "It don't seem to have been used for some
time. But then, who knows? A gun can be wiped and polished,--even in
the barrel,--in a very few minutes."

Drew glanced at Nichols with a silent question in his eyes. Delaney had
already sized Nichols up as a very clever young man. He was not far
wrong, as he learned when the detective's spoken question was shot
through determined lips.

"Nichols," said Drew, "did you lend Miss Stockbridge this revolver? Is
it yours? I shall have to turn it over to the police sooner or later.
They will trace it by the number."

"Is it fully loaded?"

Drew turned the barrel with his broad thumb. He clicked the mechanism.
He broke it and held it out.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, it's fully loaded. This is still a merry whirl
for six!"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Nichols!"

The soldier's fa