The Spread Eagle And Other Stories

There appeared in Forrest’s right hand, which had seemed empty, which had seemed not to move or to perform in any celeritous and magic manner, a very small, stubby, nickel pistol, with a caliber much too great for it, and down whose rifled muzzle the earl found himself gazing. The earl was startled. But he said, I was mistaken, sir; you are not a horse thief. As mysteriously as it had come, the wicked little derringer disappeared. Forrest’s hands remained innocently in plain view of all.