“That’s right.”
“And who opened the door? You or Jerry?”
“Jerry.”
“And then what?”
“We knew, of course, someone was in there. Jerry was groping for the light switch and didn’t know where it was, and I suddenly realized how terribly important it was to get the light on, so I ducked under his arm and reached for the light switch. It was then it happened.”
“Two shots?”
“Yes.”
“You never did get the lights on?”
“No.”
“Was your hand near the light switch when the first shot was fired?”
“I think it was, but I can’t be certain. That bullet whizzed right past my head, and smacked into the woodwork around the door. It threw splinters or plaster or something into my face, little stinging particles. I jumped back.”
“And the next shot came how soon?”
“Almost at once.”
“What happened after that?”
White-faced, she shook her head. “There’s just a lot I can’t remember. I heard that peculiar sound of the bullet — hitting Jerry.”
Tragg said, “You’re a brave kid. Don’t think about Jerry. Just think of facts. Remember that’s all we’re interested in. That second shot came right after the first one, with hardly any interval in between, and it hit Jerry.”
“Yes.”
“Did he fall down immediately?”
“He seemed to spin right around as though something had hit him, you know, a blow.”
“Then he fell?”
“I felt his knees buckle; then he was a dead weight against me. I tried to ease him to the floor, but he was too heavy. We both went down in a heap.”
“What happened to the person who was in the room?”
“I don’t know. All I can remember is seeing that awful pallor on Jerry’s face. I put my hand down to his side, and it came away all bloody. He was unconscious. I thought he was dead. Naturally, I didn’t think much about anything else. I talked to him — and told him things — and then his eyelids fluttered — after a while, then he smiled up at me and said, ‘Let’s see if I can get my legs under me, Babe.’”
Tragg frowned. “Has it occurred to you that the person who was standing in that room wasn’t shooting at Jerry?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Tragg said, “he was shooting at you. He shot at your head the first time, and almost hit it; then you jerked back, and in jerking back, you swung around so that your body was behind Jerry’s; and when he took that second snap shot at you, he hit Jerry. Remember, the person who was there in the room could see you very plainly.”
Her eyes were wide and startled. “I hadn’t thought of that. I just thought that someone was in the room and didn’t want to be discovered, and...”
“And you haven’t any idea who that someone might have been?”
“No.”
“Anyone who would find it to his advantage to have you out of the way?”
She shook her head.
“Not even if your aunt should die?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“Someone had made an attempt to poison your aunt earlier in the evening. He perhaps had reason to think he’d been successful, and that she was dying or dead. He might have come to the house to get you out of the way.”
“No, I can’t imagine anything like that.”
“You can’t think of anyone who would have stood to gain if...”
“No.”
The efficient tread of rubber heels sounded just outside the door. The rustle of a stiffly starched uniform brought a nurse to the doorway, smiling. “He’s down from the operating room, Miss Kendal. You are Miss Kendal, aren’t you?”
“Yes, oh, yes! Is he going to live? Is he conscious? Is he...”
“Of course he is, and you can go up if you want.”
Tragg moved along at Helen Kendal’s side. The nurse looked at him inquiringly.
“Lieutenant Tragg. The police,” Tragg explained.
“Oh, yes.”
“I came to get the bullet.”
“You’ll have to talk with Dr. Rosllyn. He’ll be down from the operating room very shortly.”
Tragg said to Helen Kendal, “I hate to butt in on this, but I’ve got to ask him a question if the doctor thinks he can answer it.”
“He’s conscious,” the nurse said. “They used a spinal anesthetic.”
Helen Kendal looked up at him pleadingly as they reached the elevator. “Aren’t you more interested in that bullet, Lieutenant? That’s awfully important. You know doctors are sometimes careless. He might throw it away or lose it — or something — unless you went right up.”
Tragg burst out laughing. “All right, you win. Go in and see him alone. But don’t get him tired, because I’m coming down in just a minute to talk to him.”
The nurse frowned. “He’s full of hypos, you understand, Lieutenant. He’s groggy, and you can’t rely too much on what he says.”
“I know,” Tragg said. “I only want to ask him a couple of simple questions. What floor is the operating room?”
“Eleven. Mr. Templar is on the fourth. I’ll show Miss Kendal the way.”
Tragg gave Helen an imperceptible nudge when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor. Then he turned to the nurse. “Couldn’t you let Miss Kendal find Mr. Templar’s room by herself, and take me up to the operating room?”
“Why, yes. His room is 481 — just down the corridor.”
“She can find it.”
Helen flashed Tragg a grateful glance. “Thanks,” she breathed, and sped down the corridor.
The elevator door slid shut, and the cage started on its upward journey.
“What are his chances?” Tragg asked.
The nurse shook her head. “I wouldn’t know.”
At the eleventh floor, she led the way to the operating room. Dr. Rosllyn, stripped to the waist, was drying his arms on a towel.
“Lieutenant Tragg,” the nurse announced.
“Oh, yes, Lieutenant. Got that slug for you. What the devil did I do with it? Miss Dewar, where’s the bullet?”
“You put it in a tray, Doctor, and said you didn’t want it touched.”
“Damn it,” Rosllyn said, “bet I put some bandages in on top of it. Here, wait a minute... Here, come this way.”
He led the way into a room which opened off the operating room. The peculiar acrid smell of blood assailed Tragg’s nostrils. A nurse pulled blood-soaked bits of cloth from an enameled container, handed it, not to Tragg, but to the doctor. The doctor took a pair of forceps, reached in, and pulled out a red stained chunk of metal. “Here you are, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks. You’ll have to swear that this is the bullet you took from the body of Jerry Templar, you know.”
“Sure, this is the one.”
Tragg turned the bullet over. “Make some identifying mark on the base here so you’ll know it again.”
The doctor took out his pocket knife, scratched three parallel lines on the base of the bullet, then put crosses on each line. Tragg slipped the bullet in his vest pocket.
“How are his chances?” he asked.
“Pretty good, so far. I’d have given him fifty-fifty before I started working on him. I’ll give him nine out of ten now. Barring complications, he’ll be all right. Strong, rugged type. That Army training does wonders for ’em, Lieutenant. That lad has the stamina of a billygoat. Came through the operation in fine shape.”
“All right for me to talk with him for just a minute?”
“I think so. He’s full of dope, of course. Don’t tire him, and don’t ask him complicated questions. Simple things that he can hold his mind to. He’ll start rambling if you let him keep on talking, but if you hold his mind to it and ask him simple questions, he’ll give you the answers. Don’t have any stenographer there, though. Some of his talk will be rambling and an isolated answer or two may be incorrect.”