"
He mounted the bank and began to examine the trunk of one of the trees,
whilst I watched him in growing astonishment.
Presently he turned and looked down at me.
"Not a trace, Knox," he murmured; "not a trace. Let us try again."
He moved along to the yew adjoining that which he had already
inspected, but presently shook his head and passed to the next. Then:
"Ah!" he cried. "Come here, Knox!"
I joined him where he was kneeling, staring at what I took to be a
large nail, or bolt, protruding from the bark of the tree.
"You see!" he exclaimed, "you see!"
I stooped, in order to examine the thing more closely, and as I did so,
I realized what it was. It was the bullet which had killed Colonel
Menendez!
Harley stood upright, his face slightly flushed and his eyes very
bright.
"We shall not attempt to remove it, Knox," he said. "The depth of
penetration may have a tale to tell. The wood of the yew tree is one of
the toughest British varieties."
"But, Harley," I said, blankly, as we descended to the path, "this is
merely another point for the prosecution of Camber. Unless"--I turned
to him in sudden excitement, "the bullet was of different--"
"No, no," he murmured, "nothing so easy as that, Knox.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347