“These fellows have no observation,” Sir Lawson grunted, but there was some animation in his boiled eye. “Damme, Fortune, he ought to have been on his face.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miracles don’t happen.”
“No, sir.”
“Now these abrasions on the legs. As if the car had been driven at him again while he lay. A queer thing. Or have there been two cars at him?”
“And there is this too, sir.” Reggie held out the sliver of steel.
“I saw the puncture. I was coming to that. Humph! Whoever put this in meant business.”
“And didn’t know his job. It slipped along the bone and missed everything.”
Sir Lawson turned the thing over. “A woman’s hatpin. About half a woman’s hatpin.”
“Fresh fracture. Broke as it was pushed in.”