“It wasn’t a bullet, Countess,” he said. “It’s the shell of the cartridge. Where were you standing when you fired, Mr. Thesiger?”

Jimmy took up a position by the window.

“As nearly as I can see, about here.”

Superintendent Battle placed himself in the same spot.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “The empty shell would throw right rear. It’s a .455. I don’t wonder the Countess thought it was a bullet in the dark. It hit the bookcase about a foot from her. The bullet itself grazed the window frame and we’ll find it outside tomorrow⁠—unless your assailant happens to be carrying it about in him.”

Jimmy shook his head regretfully.

“Leopold, I fear, did not cover himself with glory,” he remarked sadly.