On the end of the table was a large number of photographs of a
most peculiar nature. I picked up one. It looked like an enlarged
photograph of an orange, or like some of the pictures which the
astronomers make of the nearer planets.
"What are these?" I asked curiously, as he leaned back from his
work, with a smile of quiet satisfaction.
"That is a collection of microphotographs which I have gathered,"
he answered, adding, "as well as some that I have just made. I
hope to use them in a little stereopticon entertainment I am
arranging to-night for those who have been interested in the
case."
Garrick smiled. "Have you ever heard?" he asked, "that the rounded
end of the firing pin of every rifle when it is examined under a
microscope bears certain irregularities of marking different from
those of every other firing pin and that the primer of every shell
fired in a rifle is impressed with the particular markings of that
firing pin?"
I had not, but Garrick went on, "I know that it is true.
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