"Here we've got the two bullets. The largest is a .455, fired from Mr. Thesiger's Colt automatic. Grazed the window sash and I found it embedded in the trunk of that cedar tree. This little fellow was fired from the Mauser .25. After passing through Mr. Thesiger's arm, it embedded itself in this arm-chair here. As for the pistol itself--" "Well?" said Sir Oswald eagerly. "Any fingerprints?" Battle shook his head. "The man who handled it wore gloves," he said slowly. "A pity," said Sir Oswald. "A man who knew his business would wear gloves. Am I right in thinking, Sir Oswald, that you found this pistol just about twenty yards from the bottom of the steps leading up to the terrace?" Sir Oswald stepped to the window. "Yes, almost exactly, I should say." "I don't want to find fault, but it would have been wiser on your part, sir, to leave it exactly as you found it." "I am sorry," said Sir Oswald stiffly. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I've been able to reconstruct things. There were your footprints, you see, leading up from the bottom of the garden, and a place where you had obviously stopped and stooped down, and a kind of dent in the grass which was highly suggestive. By the way, what was your theory of the pistol being there?" "I presumed that it had been dropped by the man in his flight." Battle shook his head. "Not dropped, Sir Oswald. There are two points against that. To begin with, there is only one set of footprints crossing the lawn just there--your own." "I see," said Sir Oswald thoughtfully. "Can you be sure of that, Battle?" put in George. "Quite sure, sir. There is one other set of tracks crossing the lawn, Miss Wade's, but they are a good deal farther to the left." He paused, and then went on: "And there's the dent in the ground. The pistol must have struck the ground with some force. It all points to its having been thrown." "Well, why not?" said Sir Oswald. "Say the man fled down the path to the left. He'd leave no footprints on the path and he'd hurl the pistol away from him into the middle of the lawn, eh, Lomax?" George agreed by a nod of the head. "It's true that he'd leave no footprints on the path," said Battle, "but from the shape of the dent and the way the turf was cut, I don't think the pistol was thrown from that direction. I think it was thrown from the terrace here." "Very likely," said Sir Oswald. "Does it matter, Superintendent?" "Ah, yes, Battle," broke in George. "Is it--er--strictly relevant?" "Perhaps not, Mr. Lomax. But we like to get things just so, you know. I wonder now if one of you gentlemen would take this pistol and throw it. Will you, Sir Oswald? That's very kind. Stand just here in the window. Now fling it into the middle of the lawn."