They could determine nothing from Dr. Worth’s face as to how the examination was going. Neither of them looked very closely at what he was doing. Their wonderings ran along parallel lines: Hollander couldn’t have had a gun or they’d have seen it or found it during their recent search. None of their shots could have gone so hopelessly wild as to have hit Endicott. But somebody did have a gun, and Endicott had been shot by it. But there had been nobody in the room with Endicott except themselves and Hollander. And Hollander couldn’t have had a gun, or they’d have seen it … the perfect loop continued on and on. Each made the circle in his thoughts and then started in all over again. If Lieutenant Valcour hadn’t reentered the room, and if Dr. Worth hadn’t just then extracted the bullet, they probably would have gone mildly mad.
“Everything’s all right, Doctor,” Lieutenant Valcour said. “The medical examiner was only too pleased at your kindness in helping him out. He won’t be up again tonight unless I send for him. He asked me to thank you.”
“Not at all, Lieutenant.” Dr. Worth showed considerable excitement. “You know, it’s surprising. I don’t know much about the calibre of bullets, but I think you’re right about the angle. Here’s the bullet.”
Lieutenant Valcour inspected a leaden pellet curiously and then slipped it into a pocket.
“It isn’t from one of our guns, Doctor,” he said.
“I’m not surprised, Lieutenant—not surprised at all. Because the angle it entered at—why, damn it, Lieutenant, it must have been fired from some place over there.”