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."

"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 take the whole organisation 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