"The spurs were of little profit in our search. You have worn them since, it is true, but one pair of spurs is like another. For the pistol, however--that was another matter. It had the gunmaker's name upon the barrel, and also the name of the town where it was made." "Leyden?" I exclaimed. "That was the name--Leyden." At last I understood. I recalled that evening when Elmscott presented me to Ilga, and how frankly I had spoken to her of my life. "We journeyed to Leyden first of all," he resumed, "and sought out the gunmaker. But he did not remember selling the pistol, or, perhaps, would not--at all events, we got no help from him, and went on to London. In the beginning I believe Countess Lukstein was inclined to suspect Mr. Marston. You see he came from Bristol, and so completely did this search possess her that everything which concerned that city seemed to her to have some bearing upon her disaster. But she soon abandoned that idea, and--and--well, I know not why, but Mr. Marston left London for a time. Then you were brought to the house, and on your first visit you told her that your home was in Cumberland, where Sir Julian Harnwood lived; that you had been till recently a student at Leyden, and that there were few other English students there besides yourself. At first I think she did not seriously accuse you of Count Lukstein's death. It seemed little likely; you had not the look of it. I did not recognise you at all, and, further, my mistress herself inquired much of you concerning your actions, and you let slip no hint that could convict you." I remembered what interest the Countess had seemed to take in my uneventful history, and how her questions had delighted me, flattering my vanity and lifting me to the topmasts of hope; and the irony of my recollections made me laugh aloud. "Howbeit," he went on, paying no heed to my interruption--there was no great merriment in my laughter, and it may be that he understood--"Howbeit, her suspicions were alert, and then Mr. Marston came back to London. She learnt from him that you had passed through London in a great hurry one night, and from Lord Culverton that the night was in September and that your destination was Bristol. I wanted to ride there and see what I could discover, but my mistress would not allow me. I don't know, but at that time I almost fancied she regretted her resolve, and would fain have let the matter lie." 'Twas at that time also, I remembered, that the Countess treated me so waywardly, and I coupled Otto's remark and my remembrance together, and set them aside as food for future pondering.