Virginia picked it up from the table and gave it to him. She saw his face grow grave as he looked at it.

“What’s the matter?”

He held it out, pointing silently to the place of origin.

“Barnes,” he said. “And you were at Ranelagh this afternoon. What’s to prevent you having sent it off yourself?”

Virginia felt fascinated by his words. It was as though a net was closing tighter and tighter round her. He was forcing her to see all the things which she had felt dimly at the back of her mind.

Anthony took out his handkerchief and wound it round his hand, then he picked up the pistol.

“We criminals have to be so careful,” he said apologetically. “Fingerprints, you know.”