Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way from Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple.

The detective raised his hat and would have passed on, but Francis accosted him.
"Any progress, Mr.Shopland ?" he enquired.
The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache.

He was an insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and watery eyes.

His mouth, however, was hard, and there were some tell-tale little lines at its corners.
"None whatever, I am sorry to say, Mr.Ledsam," he admitted.

"At present we are quite in the dark." "You found the weapon, I hear ?" Shopland nodded.
"It was just an ordinary service revolver, dating from the time of the war, exactly like a hundred thousand others.