“Oh, it wasn’t,” Mason said.
Hogan said acidly, “If you’ll permit me to finish my statement, Mr. Mason.”
“I wasn’t aware that I’d interrupted you,” Mason said. “I thought you had finished.”
“Well, I hadn’t finished,” Hogan said. “I was about to remark that I advised Sergeant Holcomb that the bullet hadn’t been fired from this gun, and Sergeant Holcomb told me of course it hadn’t that the bullet he had handed me was the one which had been taken from the body of George Trent. Thereupon, I compared that bullet With the test bullet fired from the revolver which Sergeant Holcomb had told me figured in the Trent case, and found that the bullets Were identical. I then compared the bullet which he gave me and which he told me had been taken from the body of Austin Cullens, and found that it was identical with the test bullet fired from this gun.”
Mason said wearily, “That’s all.”
“Call William Golding,” Sampson said.
Golding came forward to the witness stand and was sworn. His face was the face of a professional gambler, cold, expressionless, and observing, completely divorced from that which was taking place in his mind.
Golding stated his name and address. “Your occupation?” Sampson asked.
“I run a restaurant known as The Golden Platter.”
“Are you acquainted with the defendant, Sarah Breel?”