went away. . . . Such are the facts, indicated and actual."
He took several puffs on his cigarette.
"Now, let's analyze 'em. . . . As I pointed out to you, the murderer didn't fire at the body, where, though the chances of hitting would have been much greater, the chances of death would have been less. He chose the more diff'cult and hazardous—and, at the same time, the more certain and efficient—course. His technique, so to speak, was bold, direct, and fearless. Only a man with iron nerves and a highly developed gambler's instinct would have done it in just this forthright and audacious fashion. Therefore, all nervous, hot-headed, impulsive, or timid persons were automatically elim'nated as suspects. The neat, business-like aspect of the crime, together with the absence of any material clues that could possibly have incrim'nated the culprit, indicated unmistakably that it had been premeditated and planned with coolness and precision, by a person of tremendous self-assurance, and one used to taking risks. There was nothing subtle or in the least imag'native about the crime. Every feature of it pointed to an aggressive, blunt mind—a mind at once static, determined and intrepid, and accustomed to dealing with facts and situations in a direct, concrete and unequivocal manner. . . . I say, Markham, surely you're a good enough judge of human nature to read the indications, what?"
"I think I get the drift of your reasoning," the other admitted a little doubtfully.
"Very well, then," Vance continued. "Having determined the exact psychological nature of the
