Merrington nodded. He was looking at the bullet wound, which was plainly visible through a burnt orifice in the rest-gown which the dead girl was wearing. The wound was a circular punctured hole in the left breast, less than the size of a sixpenny piece.
"The wound has been washed," he observed. "Was that done by the police surgeon?"
"The police surgeon has not been here. The corpse was examined by the village medical man, Dr. Holmes."
"I should like to see him. Where is he to be found?"
"He will be here in the course of the morning. He is attending young Heredith, who is suffering from the shock. The doctor fears brain fever."
"When he comes I want to see him. It is idle speculating about the cause of death in the absence of a doctor. Death in this case appears to have been due to hæmorrhage. Apparently the murderer aimed at the heart and missed it, and the shot went through the lungs. The shot was fired at very close range too—look how the wrapper is burnt! Any sign of the bullet, Caldew?"
"I found none."
"Well, we shall have to wait for the doctor to clear up these points."
His trained eyes swept round the bedroom, taking stock of every article in it. He next carefully examined the door, and the lock on it.
"The door was open when the others came upstairs, you said, Caldew?"