Bess, needless to say thought this a capital plan, so when the groom brought round the cart he was sent away. He saw the pair drive towards the village and there was a broad grin on his face. He knew very well what they were to one another. In some mysterious way the news had got to the servants' hall and had been well discussed that very morning. The lovers drove into Beorminster and talked in the most matter of fact way about the conspiracy. Their heads were so close together that one would have thought they were exchanging the tenderest confidences. In place of that the detective fever was raging in both their breasts, and they were like a couple of Scotland Yard officials. Then Herrick took a last farewell, promised to return in the course of a few days, and caught the express. When the train disappeared round the curve Bess went back to the cart and drove it to some stables where she put it up. Afterwards she went into the lower part of Beorminster where Mr. Inspector Bridge had his office. He happened to be in and brightened up when he saw her. Bridge had a great opinion of the younger Miss Endicotte. "What good wind brings you here Miss?" he asked. "Ah!" said Bess solemnly, "that requires some telling Mr. Inspector. It is about this pistol?" and she produced it from her pocket. "Pistol!" echoed Bridge puzzled, "ah! it is the pistol of the Carr case?" "That is what I want to find out," said Miss Endicotte who had her story all ready to tell, and had discussed its details with Dr. Jim during the drive. "I found this the other day in the Pine wood near Colonel Carr's house. It is a clumsy old-fashioned thing; but I remembered what was said about the bullet being old-fashioned also. Now I want you to see if the bullet fits the muzzle of this." "H'm!" said Bridge with his most important air and looking down the muzzle, "so you found this pistol in the grass--and near the house? Perhaps--I say perhaps mind you Miss Bess-this might be the weapon we have been looking for so long. Is there a name on the butt?" "No," said Bess promptly, "you only find that in novels. There is not so much as a scratch on the handle." "An old weapon," observed Bridge wagging his head ponderously and irritating Bess to a frenzy with his platitudes. "Well, we must see if the bullet--Ha! yes, the bullet. Now where is it?" Bridge went hunting over some shelves, and then he took to excavating in drawers--opened a safe, dug under dusty piles of papers, and suddenly produced (Bess never saw from where) a small box in which something rattled. When he opened this there were three conical bullets and one fat round one. "Ah," cried Bess, "there it is. Try! please try Mr. Inspector." "All in good time Miss," said the aggravating Bridge, and dropped the bullet into the muzzle. It disappeared, and he nodded solemnly. "It is the pistol," he said, "you have made a valuable discovery Miss. If there was only a name or initials on the handle," he sighed.