Aurora Floyd · Chapter 34 (2/2)

“I beg your pardon, sir,” the old servant said; “but they’ve found something in the park, and I thought perhaps you might like to know⁠—”

“They’ve found something! What?” exclaimed John, utterly bewildered between his agitation at the sight of his wife’s grief and his endeavour to understand the man.

“A pistol, sir. One of the stable-lads found it just now. He went to the wood with another boy to look at the place where⁠—the⁠—the man was shot; and he’s brought back a pistol he found there. It was close against the water, but hid away among the weeds and rushes. Whoever threw it there, thought, no doubt, to throw it in the pond; but Jim, that’s one of the boys, fancied he saw something glitter, and sure enough it was the barrel of a pistol; and I think must be the one that the trainer was shot with, Mr. John.”

“A pistol!” cried Mr. Mellish; “let me see it.”

His servant handed him the weapon. It was small enough for a toy, but none the less deadly in a skilful hand. It was a rich man’s fancy, deftly carried out by some cunning gunsmith, and enriched by elaborate inlaid work of purple steel and tarnished silver. It was rusty, from exposure to rain and dew; but Mr. Mellish knew the pistol well, for it was his own.

It was his own; one of his pet playthings; and it had been kept in the room which was only entered by privileged persons⁠—the room in which his wife had busied herself with the rearrangement of his guns upon the day of the murder.