Three or four guns were ranged in it: two 12-bore shot-guns, an air-gun, and a little 20-bore. Another rack was empty; no doubt it had held the Mannlicher rifle, which the police had carried away to use as evidence in their case for the prosecution. The door was locked and there was no sign of a key. Gimblet turned to the other cupboards. There were more weapons here, and a few minutes' examination showed him that, as Mark had said, he and his uncle were less particular as to where their guns were kept, for the first two that the detective glanced at bore Lord Ashiel's initial, and the next was an old air-gun with M. McC. engraved on a silver disk at the stock. Side by side were the rifles used by the uncle and nephew for stalking, Gimblet knew from Mark that the Mannlicher was his, while Lord Ashiel had apparently used a Mauser or Ross sporting rifle, as there was one of each in the case. Gimblet lifted down the Mannlicher and laid it on the table. This, then, was the kind of weapon with which the deed had been done. It was a .355 Mannlicher Schonauer sporting weapon of the latest pattern. He opened it and examined the mechanism, which he soon grasped. He squinted down the glistening tunnel of the barrel and even closely scrutinized the workmanship of the exterior, repressing a shudder at the meretricious design of the chasing on the lock, and passing his fingers caressingly over the wood of which the stock was made. It shone with a rich bloom, as smooth and even as polished marble, except at the butt end which was criss-crossed roughly to prevent slipping; but wood in any shape has a homely friendly feeling, as different from any the polisher can impart to a piece of cold stone as the forests, where it once stood, upright and lofty, are from the inhospitable rocks on the peaks above them. These unpractical reflections flitted through the detective's mind, together with others of a less fantastic nature, as he put the rifle back in the rack he had taken it from. He closed the glass doors of the cabinet, leaving them unlocked, as he had found them. Then, going back to the table, he took an empty pill-box from his pocket, and with the utmost care swept into it a trace of dust from off the bare deal top. There was barely enough to darken the cardboard at the bottom of the box, but he looked at it, before putting on the lid, with an expression of some satisfaction. CHAPTER XI Gimblet left the gun-room quietly; and after some more exploring discovered the way to the back premises. In the pantry he found Blanston, whom he invited to follow him to the deserted billiard-room for a few minutes' conversation. "You know," he told him, "Miss Byrne and your new young master want me to examine the evidence that Sir David Southern is the author of this terrible crime."