“‘Call the doctor,’ was all the Lady said. Jameson took the gun from the limp hand of his Mistress and sent the stable boy running for the physician. Dr. Tillson arrived within minutes and pronounced the squire dead. He then administered a bromide to Lady Townsend who retired to her bedroom.” Holmes had walked around the room, seemingly randomly examining the bookcases, fireplace, and the carpet. He did a thorough examination of the body, checking the pockets of the suit coat, pants and vest, before moving to the table where the revolver lay. “Is this the revolver the butler took from Lady Townsend?” he asked as he put it to his nose and sniffed the barrel. “Yes. The pistol with which the lady shot her husband.” Holmes smiled. “The Lady may have indeed shot her husband, but not with this gun. It hasn’t been fired, probably in years. Sniff the barrel, Gregson, and check these loads. The weapon is loaded, but none of the cartridges have been discharged, although the slight smell of cordite is obvious in the room.” “What?” Gregson exclaimed his face red. He took the gun and smelled the barrel, then checked the loads. “By all the Saints, you’re right! I knew this case was quirky. That’s why I sent for you. It looked too pat. The Lady is covering up for a paramour, and is innocent of the murder.” “Steady, Inspector,” Holmes said with a chuckle. “If you propose a paramour as the shooter, you must also explain how he exited the crime scene through the only door out, into a crowd of staff members. No, Gregson, no one was in the room except the dead gentleman and the Lady.” “We searched for secret passages and found none,” the Inspector said while slowly shaking his head. “And we’ve searched the room high and low and found no other gun. I even brought in the matron from the jail and searched the Lady before she went to her room. It’s true we weren’t looking for a revolver, but we found nothing of a suspicious nature. “ “And yet,” Holmes stated, “the second revolver is indeed missing.” “No one exited this room after the body was discovered. No one,” Gregson said. “One man did, Inspector. And only one man could have taken the second gun without anyone being the wiser.” Gregson grew red in the face. “I resent your implications, Mr. Holmes. I did not purloin the murder weapon.” I noticed his highland brogue came out a bit more when he was upset. Holmes again chuckled. “Not you, Inspector. I suggest you take a couple of men and search Dr. Tillson and his surgery. And it would be well to investigate the link between Lady Townsend and the good doctor. You may find there is more than a doctor/patient relationship.” “Then it was a crime of passion,” the policeman said. “No. It was planned, cold blooded murder,” Holmes responded. “She used one gun for a ruse to delay the search, and the other to commit the deed, knowing Tillson would be sent for. After she fired the shot, she put the gun under the body, picked up the dummy weapon, and unlocked the door. Tillson, while examining the body, slipped the murder weapon into his medical bag and departed, no one the wiser.” “She almost got away with it. If the prosecution had introduced the first revolver into evidence, her barrister would have proven the gun hadn’t been fired and the case would have been thrown out,” Gregson said. “Yes, but I suggest you hurry to Tillson’s, for if he disposes of that revolver, you’ll have a time proving your case,” Sherlock Holmes warned. Later, Holmes and I again sat near the fireplace in Baker Street, pipes in hand. “The revolver that hadn’t been fired made this a difficult case, Holmes,” I said. “On the contrary, Watson. As I said earlier, it’s the details that are out of place that give a case a way in, once the puzzle of their presence is solved.” “Nevertheless,” I said. “It was brilliant how you reasoned the existence of a second revolver.” “Elementary, my dear Watson,” Sherlock Holmes said. “Elementary.”