15. ANOTHER MAN’S EARTH
Chan handed the revolver to the sheriff and began a rather cumbersome climb back into the room.
“Guard weapon well,” he suggested. “It may prove valuable—who knows? How many cartridges exploded, please?”
“Why, one, of course,” the sheriff replied.
“Ah, yes—the bullet from which, now reposing in poor Doctor Swan, the coroner will later obtain for us. You may handle pistol freely, Sheriff. The killer we deal with does not leave finger-prints—even with his footprints he is careful man. In spite of his care, however, his discarded weapons may yet tell us much.”
“You think so?” inquired Holt.
“I hope so.” For a time Charlie stood studying the revolver as it lay in the sheriff’s hand. “This one has somewhat old-fashioned look,” he suggested.
“Sure does,” Don Holt a
