“Of course, one might interpret the situation that way. Indeed, the facts would seem to indicate such a conclusion. But, on the other hand, the intruder might have been very close to Ada; and the fact that the bullet entered her left shoulder at a particularly vital point may have been the purest accident.”
“Quite true,” conceded Vance. “However, if the idea of premeditation is to be abrogated, we must account for the fact that the lights were on in the room when the butler entered immediately after the shooting.”
Von Blon showed the keenest astonishment at this statement.
“The lights were on? That’s most remarkable!” His brow crinkled into a perplexed frown, and he appeared to be assimilating Vance’s information. “Still,” he argued, “that very fact may account for the shooting. If the intruder had entered a lighted room he may have fired at the occupant lest his description be given to the police later.”
“Oh, quite!” murmured Vance. “Anyway, let us hope we’ll learn the explanation when we’ve seen and spoken to Miss Ada.”
“Well, why don’t we get to it?” grumbled Heath, whose ordinarily inexhaustible store of patience had begun to run low.
“You’re so hasty, Sergeant,” Vance chided him. “Doctor Von Blon has just told us that Miss Ada is very weak; and anything we can learn beforehand will spare her just so many questions.”
“All I want to find out,” expostulated Heath, “is if she got a look at the bird that shot her and can give me a description of him.”
“That being the case, Sergeant, I fear you are doomed to have your ardent hopes dashed to the ground.”
Heath chewed viciously on his cigar; and Vance turned again to Von Blon.