“No, sir. But Mr. Graham has been shot with an arrow, sir, in just the same way as Mr. Harrison!”
CHAPTER XX
ANOTHER LOCKED DOOR
Physically stunned by surprise, the two detectives stared at Stimson’s lean, dark face, while, with the swiftness of a dream, their trained mentalities passed the whole case in review—to no purpose. In face of the little they had learned, such a second killing seemed utterly meaningless. It supplied no dreadful link, fitted no vacant niche in even the most shadowy of their theories. By slightly different channels they swung to the same mental mooring. First and second killing, if done by the same hand, were the work of an irresponsible madman.
“Where’s the body?” rapped Bernard suddenly.
The butler started.
“Beg pardon, sir! I was not speaking physiologically. I referred to the location of Mr. Graham at the time he was shot—in the door between the library and the front room. Mr. Graham is not dead. He is seriously and painfully wounded.”
“Good!” cried Landis in relief. “Where is he?”
“We put him to bed and the doctor has been here to dress his wound. He has a slight fever and is extremely nervous. He has asked for you both several times.”
“You must know who did it this time!”