"How does this strike you?" he asked Miss Maunsell.
She did not shrink away foolishly as many women do at sight of a weapon.
"That's about the size I should say," she remarked. "And it's very like, too; but Mr. Barr's wasn't so shiny and bright as that."
"What became of the revolver when he went away?"
That I can't tell, because I went before he did. He was to leave a few hours later."
"Well, was the revolver in the drawer when you left?"
"So far as I know. I hadn't seen the drawer open for some days, and he packed for himself, but I suppose it was still there. I don't suppose he took it out."
"Did Miss Verney ever call at Mr. Barr's house?"
"Once, when she'd been walking with him, and was caught in a storm, she came in and had tea. Mr. Barr says to me: 'Miss Maunsell, I've brought in the young lady I hope will be my wife some day—Miss Verney. Please give us the nicest tea and toast you can'; which I did. Other times I used to see Miss Verney occasionally, passing. Perhaps she'd speak to Mr. Barr at the gate, or come for a minute or two into the garden; but never did she show her face our way, I'm sure, after the day that French girl disappeared. Whether she believed anything against Mr. Barr or not, I don't know; but so it was."
