with what they saw. 'I was having it explained to me,' said Trent pleasantly, 'that my discovery of a pistol that might have shot Manderson does not amount to very much. I am told it is a favourite weapon among your people, and has become quite popular over here.'
Mr. Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case. 'Yes, sir,' he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; 'the captain is right. This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and I dare say there are duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets this minute. I consider it too light in the hand myself,' Mr. Bunner went on, mechanically feeling under the tail of his jacket, and producing an ugly looking weapon. 'Feel of that, now, Mr Trent–it's loaded, by the way. Now this Little Arthur–Marlowe bought it just before we came over this year to please the old man. Manderson said it was ridiculous for a man to be without a pistol in the twentieth century. So he went out and bought what they offered him, I guess–never consulted me. Not but what it's a good gun,' Mr. Bunner conceded, squinting along the sights.
