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
scrutinized 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 hand on the
murderer--I think we can get a conviction, sir, on the evidence that I
shall get from this bullet in my laboratory."
"That's pretty much like a story-book," drawled the inspector
incredulously, shaking his head.
"Perhaps," smiled Kennedy. "But there will still be plenty of work for
the police to do, too. I've only got a clue to the murderer. It
will tax the whole organization to follow it up, believe me. Now,
Inspector, can you spare the time to go down to Parker's office and
take me over the ground? No doubt we can develop something else
there.
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