There was nothing actually physical about it, but they put it in such a way that I could hardly remain, so that all I could do was roam about the yard and watch the men turning the rusty old carcases, and of course finding nothing. Theoretically I shouldn’t have been interested in their Lugers locked in boxes, but the thing was annoying. Then they came out and marched stubbornly away, although I called: “Frank!” He obviously wasn’t pleased. No reason to be, I suppose. But one thought did occur to me on the way back to the Bedford, and I put it to Bycroft at the first opportunity, which was the following morning. “Frank, has it occurred to you — ” They were chatting it over at his desk, he and Sprague, and somehow seemed annoyed to see me. “Who let you up here?” Bycroft demanded. “I came up. Listen, the gun ... ” Perhaps he was pleased, at that time, to hear any fresh ideas about the gun.
