Chapter 10
Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way
from Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple. The detective
raised his hat and would have passed on, but Francis accosted
him.
“Any progress, Mr. Shopland?” he enquired.
The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache. He was an
insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and
watery eyes. His mouth, however, was hard, and there were some
tell-tale little lines at its corners.
“None whatever, I am sorry to say, Mr. Ledsam,” he admitted. “At
present we are quite in the dark.”
“You found the weapon, I hear?”
Shopland nodded.
“It was just an ordinary service revolver, dating from the time
of the war, exactly like a hundred thousand others. The enquiries
we were able to make from
