THE HEIR "_Your_ pistol ?" said Whiteside incredulously, "my dear good chap, you are mad! How could it be your pistol ?" "It is nevertheless my pistol," said Tarling quietly.

"I recognised it the moment I saw it on your desk, and thought there must be some mistake.
These furrows prove that there is no mistake at all.

It has been one of my most faithful friends, and I carried it with me in China for six years." Whiteside gasped.
"And you mean to tell me," he demanded, "that Thornton Lyne was killed with your pistol ?" Tarling nodded.
"It is an amazing but bewildering fact," he said.

"That is undoubtedly my pistol, and it is the same that was found in Miss Rider's room at Carrymore Mansions, and I have not the slightest doubt in my mind that it was by a shot fired from this weapon that Thornton Lyne lost his life." There was a long silence.
"Well, that beats me," said Whiteside, laying the weapon on the table.
"At every turn some new mystery arises.

This is the second jar I've had to-day." "The second ?" said Tarling.