A tiny, inflamed wound showed on the wrist; and a certain puffiness was becoming observable in the injured hand and arm. Smith bent down and drew a quick, sibilant breath.
“You know what this is, Petrie?” he cried.
“Certainly. It was too late to employ a ligature and useless to inject ammonia. Death was practically instantaneous. His heart...”
There came a loud knocking and ringing.
“Carter!” cried Smith, turning to the detective, “open that door to no one—no one. Explain who I am—”
“But if it is the inspector?—”
“I said, open the door to no one!” snapped Smith.
“Burke, stand exactly where you are! Carter, you can speak to whoever knocks, through the letter-box. Petrie, don’t move for your life! It may be here, in the hallway!—”