There were lots of
people in each office. There was the usual click of typewriters,
and the buzz of the ticker, and the hum of conversation. We have
any number of witnesses of the whole affair, but as far as any of
them knows no shot was fired, no smoke was seen, no noise was
heard, nor was any weapon found. Yet here on my desk is a
thirty-two-calibre bullet. The coroner's physician probed it out
of Parker's neck this afternoon and turned it over to us."
Kennedy reached for the bullet, and turned it thoughtfully in his
fingers for a moment. One side of it had apparently struck a bone
in the neck of the murdered man, and was flattened. The other
side was still perfectly smooth. With his inevitable
magnifying-glass he scrutinised the bullet on every side. I
watched his face anxiously, and I could see that he was very
intent and very excited.
"Extraordinary, most extraordinary," he said to himself as he
turned it over and over. "Where did you say this bullet struck?"
"In the fleshy part of the neck, quite a little back of and below
his ear and just above his collar. There wasn't much bleeding. I
think it must have struck the base of his brain."
"It didn't strike his collar or hair?"
"No," replied the inspector.
"Inspector, I think we shall be able to put our hands on the
murderer--I think we can get a conviction, sir, on the evidence
that I shall get from this bullet in my laboratory.
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