from the orchard to the rear of the house from which Rand looked.

"Must be comforting to know your lawyer's so handy," he commented. "And
what do you think, Walters? Are you satisfied, in your own mind, that Mr.
Fleming was killed accidentally?"

The servant looked at him seriously. "No, sir; I'm not," he replied.
"I've thought about it a great deal, since it happened, sir, and I just
can't believe that Mr. Fleming would have that revolver, and start
working on it, without knowing that it was loaded. That just isn't
possible, if you'll pardon me, sir. And I can't understand how he would
have shot himself while removing the charges. The fact is, when I came up
here at quarter of seven, to call him for cocktails, he had the whole
thing apart and spread out in front of him." The butler thought for a
moment. "I believe Mr. Dunmore had something like that in mind when he
called Mr. Goode."

"Well, what happened?" Rand asked. "Did the coroner or the doctor choke
on calling it an accident?"

"Oh no, sir; there was no trouble of any sort about that. You see, Dr.
Yardman called the coroner, as soon as he arrived, but Mr. Goode was here
already. He'd come over by that path you saw, to the rear of the house,
and in through the garage, which was open, since Mrs. Dunmore was out
with the coupé. They all talked it over for a while, and the coroner
decided that there would be no need for any inquest, and the doctor wrote
out the certificate. That was all there was to it."

Rand looked at the section of pistol-rack devoted to Colts.