Octavus Roy Cohen

“ Carroll evinced sudden interest.
“So it is,” he said quietly, eyeing the heavy-set form of the thief of the regular detective force. “And he’s got a wounded man in that wagon. I wonder if he’s been using his revolver again to bring down some poor suspect. That’s a habit of his—firing his revolver rather indiscriminately.” ”

“ And, besides, while we are discussing whether Miss Duval or Harrelson may be the guilty one, we have completely forgotten old man Badger, the one person who has supplied confession, motive, evidence, and testimony.”
“No-o, Mr. Hall—I hadn’t quite forgotten Badger. Without him the case is complicated enough. With him—it is—er—interesting, very interesting, I suggest that you telephone Doctor Robinson; he should have found the bullet by this time.” ”

“ Doctor Robinson had found the bullet, and Doctor Robinson was desirous of coming down to see Mr. Hall immediately. He came, and a quick and thorough examination showed that the lethal bullet was of the same calibre as that used in the official police revolvers. Hall looked at Carroll and Carroll looked at Hall.
“It would have been queer,” remarked Carroll easily, “if something had turned up to bewilder us more. Although that would have been well-nigh impossible.”
Hall laughed shortly. He questioned the doctor:
“The man was only shot once; you are quite sure?” ”