gone over the surface with an oiled rag, before hanging it on the wall.
He would certainly not have surface-oiled it before removing the charges,
if there ever were any. I assume the revolver he was found holding,
presumably the one with which he was killed, was another one. And I would
further assume that the killer wasn't particularly familiar with the
subject of firearms, antique, care and maintenance of."

"And with all the hollering and whooping and hysterics-throwing, nobody
noticed the switch," Ritter finished. "Wonder what happened to the one he
was really cleaning."

"That I may possibly find out," Rand said. "The general incompetence with
which this murder was committed gives me plenty of room to hope that it
may still be lying around somewhere."

"Well, have you thought that it might just be suicide?" Kathie asked.

"I have, very briefly; I dismissed the thought, almost at once," Rand
told her. "For two reasons. One, that if it had been suicide, Mrs.
Fleming wouldn't want it poked into; she'd be more than willing to let it
ride as an accident. And, two, I doubt if a man who prided himself on his
gun-knowledge, as Fleming did, would want his self-shooting to be taken
for an accident. I'm damn sure I wouldn't want my friends to go around
saying: 'What a dope; didn't know it was loaded!' I doubt if he'd even
expect people to believe that it had been an accident." He shook his
head. "No, the only inference I can draw is that somebody murdered
Fleming, and then faked evidence intended to indicate an accident." He
rose. "I'll be back, in a little; think it over, while I'm gone."

* * * * *