They were taking away in that wagon the planks
with the bullet holes."
Muldoon was out of the room and going down the stairs before she had
finished speaking. It was a quarter of an hour later when he returned.
Beatrice and her father were not to be seen.
From back of the partition came an eager, vibrant voice. "Is that you,
Mr. Muldoon? Come here quick. We've found one of the bullets in the
wall."
The policeman passed out of the door through which Bromfield had made
his escape and found another small door opening from the passage. It
took him into the cubby-hole of a room in which were the wires and
instruments used to receive news of the races.
"What about the express wagon?" asked Whitford.
"We'll get it. Word is out for those on duty to keep an eye open for
it. Where's the bullet?"
Beatrice pointed it out to him. There it was, safely embedded in the
plaster, about five feet from the ground.
"Durand wasn't thorough enough. He quit too soon," said the officer
with a grin. "Crooks most always do slip up somewhere and leave
evidence behind them. Yuh'd think Jerry would have remembered the
bullet as well as the bullet hole."
They found the mark of the second bullet too. It had struck a
telephone receiver and taken a chip out of it.
They measured with a tape-line the distance from the floor and the side
walls to the place where each bullet struck. Tim dug out the bullet
they had found.
They were back in the front room again when a huge figure appeared in
the doorway and stood there blocking it.
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