It was empty, and there was rust in the chambers."
"Then how the hell did he get shot?" Rand wanted to know.
"That I couldn't say; I'm only telling you how he didn't get shot. Here,
this is how it was. It was a Thursday, and I'd come halfway out from town
before I remembered that I hadn't bought a copy of _Time_, so I stopped
at Biddle's drugstore, in the village, for one. Just as I was getting
into my car, outside, Lane Fleming drove up and saw me. He blew his horn
at me, and then waved to me with this revolver in his hand. I went over
and looked at it, and he told me he'd found it hanging back of the
counter at a barbecue-stand, where the road from Rosemont joins Route 22.
There had been some other pistols with it, and I went to see them later,
but they were all trash. The Leech & Rigdon had been the only decent
thing there, and Fleming had talked it out of this fellow for ten
dollars. He was disgustingly gleeful about it, particularly as it was
a better specimen than mine."
"Would you know it, if you saw it again?" Rand asked.
"Yes. I remember the serials. I always look at serials on Confederate
arms. The highest known serial number for a Leech & Rigdon is 1393; this
one was 1234."
Rand pulled the .
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