Higginbotham indicated the measurements with his hands.
"How thick was it?"
"Inch or so, maybe."
Markham leaned forward.
"Could it have been a gun—a Colt automatic?"
"Sure, it could. Just about the right size. And it was heavy, too,—I could tell by the way he handled it, and the way it hit the water."
"All right." Markham was pleased. "Anything else?"
"No, sir. After he'd ditched the gun, he went home and stayed. I left him there."
When Higginbotham had gone Markham nodded at Vance with melancholy elation.
"There's your criminal agent. . . . What more would you like?"
"Oh, lots," drawled Vance.
Major Benson looked up, perplexed.
"I don't quite grasp the situation. Why did Leacock have to go to Riverside Drive for his gun?"
"I have reason to think," said Markham, "that he took it to Miss St. Clair the day after the shooting—for safe-keeping probably. He wouldn't have wanted it found in his place."
"Might he not have taken it to Miss St. Clair's before the shooting?"
"I know what you mean," Markham answered. (I, too, recalled the Major's assertion the day before that Miss St. Clair was more capable of shooting his brother than was the Captain.) "I had the same idea myself. But certain evidential facts have eliminated her as a suspect."
