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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, January 22, 1916, NOON EDITION, Image 20

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1916-01-22/ed-1/seq-20/

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then, traveled at an upward slant of
nine degrees until it reached the
exact center of the distance; then it
had described a fall of nine degrees
as it went on its course, until it
pierced Garrett through the throat.
Replying to a question, the leading
expert had compared the flight of the
bullet to the rebound of a billiard ball
from the cushion.
"The angle of incident is equal to
the angle of rebound," he had ex
plained. "The angle at which a bul
let fired, or a stone thrown, rises, is
that at which it falls."
"He's wrong!" shouted my friend
excitedly. "We have him, Heard!
That law has been shown to be in
correct. "How?" ,
"Because the billiard ball runs on
a level surface with an equal grav
ity attraction everywhere. The fall
ing bullet, with a lessening momen
tum, is more strongly attracted by
the earth than the rising bullet
Wait!"
He covered a whole sheet with fig
ures. "A bullet rising at an angle of
nine degrees,." lie announced, "will
fall at an angle of thirteen."
"More steply?"
"Perceptibly."
"Then it was fired from a closer
range!"
He covered the back of the sheet
with further figuring. "At seven hun
dred and twenty-seven yards," he an
swered. We traced the yards out from the
library window. I remember the curi
ous group of onlookers, and Ellis
among them, coldly skeptical. The
bee line took us past the edge of the
wall of the butler's cabin and we
halted in an open space between the
house and the trees.
"The bullet was fired from here,"
announced the expert.
And the trail had led us nowhere.
Nothing had been proved, nothing
disproved. We stared at each other
in bitter humiliation.
Suddenly a light came to me. "You
haven't allowed for the different bul
let!" I shouted.
"Whose make? How many
grains?" He pulled a paper book
from his pocket and in a moment
we were both calculating.
"Seven hundred and two yards, less
five inches," he said.
How we measured back those few
paces! I recollect the change in
Ellis5 look, the sneers. We halt
ed at the extreme angle of the rebuilt
cabin. My friend measured the
inches up the wall. We saw a round
hole in the middle of a brick outside
the butler's spare room.
I saw Ellis Tomlinson hurry into
the house, and, hardly yet under
standing what had occurred, I rush
ed after him. He slammed the .door
and tried to bolt it, but I forced it
open. I was just too late. I heard a
shot and a fall; I saw the huddled
body of the murderer half in, half out
of the oak closet, and, behind it, the
rifle on a tripod, with the muzzle
pointing through the hole in the
brick.
Ellis had planned too well. The
scheme, to which the negro con
fessed, had been almost perfect, but
it had not reckoned with a woman's
faith.
(Copyright by W. G. Cbanman.)
o o
COULDN'T EAT 'EM
Bobby Gee, I'm awful hungry,
kid. Kid What did you have for din
ner? Bobby Company. , 7T7 .,

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