“And--he was so sufficiently sure of himself that he took this opportunity of getting rid of the one man who knew something of the murder. What that something is no one can even guess.” He paused for breath. Then he smiled quizzically, as he looked about him. “One of us here, on this yacht, killed this man. Either you, my friend,” to the Count who had returned just then and was standing in the doorway, “either you, Mr. Thomas, either you, Mr. Rice, or the three members of the Breese family who have left us.” “Well, I had nothing to do with it,” cried the actor. “Hang it all, you’re not going to begin all over again with me.” “No,” said the Russian. “You see, we are in a much better position than we were before. In a crime committed in a house, people may go and come unseen. But we know all those who are on this boat. Our search narrows down considerably. For example, our first step is to locate the revolver with which this murder was committed. Have any of you gentlemen a revolver?” “Not me!” cried the actor. “Why should I have a revolver?” “I did not address you alone,” said the Russian. “I assume that none of you gentlemen will produce a revolver for me. It is too much to expect.” He smiled. “Shall we search them, Mr. Smith?” “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” said Smith. He put his hand in his pocket and produced a pearl-handled weapon. He clicked open the barrel. “There’s been one shot fired--this is undoubtedly the gun that was used.” “Where did you find it?” demanded the Russian. “In my pocket,” said Smith. “It also happens to be my gun.” CHAPTER XX THE LETTER “Yours?” exclaimed Rice, staring at the detective. “Yes,” said Smith. “The man who murdered Trenholm took this gun out of my pocket, fired one shot, and put it back into my pocket immediately afterwards.” “But how clever!” admired the Russian. Smith flushed. “I don’t know how clever he is,” he muttered. “It was dark and the boat was pitching.” “But you felt nothing?” demanded the Russian. “Nothing at all,” replied Smith. “According to your own formula,” the Russian’s eyes twinkled, “you are the guilty person, Mr. Smith. All the evidence is on your person.” “I don’t think this is a joke,” Smith looked at him cuttingly. “But it is not without its humor,” insisted the Russian. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Thomas?” He swung at the actor. “Damned funny!” giggled the actor. “Beyond me,” commented Rice. “Can’t think--I’m dizzy!” Smith finally dismissed the three men. When the door closed upon them, he blazed at the Russian: “Fine idea you sold me! We’re in deeper than ever now.” “No!” protested the Russian. “We are one step ahead.”