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made up of what were called “grooves and lands.” The grooves were the spiral tracks what were carved on the inside of the barrel (rotating toward either the right or the left) to make the bullet spin as it came out of the muzzle and thereby fly much straighter through the air; the lands were the spaces between these grooves. Bullets propelled through said grooves and lands were marked by lines that exactly reflected the specific rifling of the particular barrel. This system of identification had already claimed some success, though not in the United States: some years earlier, a French colleague of the detective sergeants’, one Monsieur Lacassagne, had matched the number, spacing, and twist of grooves on a bullet taken from a dead man to the barrel of a gun owned by a suspect. The man was afterward convicted, mostly on the strength of the ballistic evidence.

Now, this judgment had, the detective sergeants admitted, been a little premature, seeing as the lands and grooves of guns had never been catalogued even by manufacturer or model, much less by the individual characteristics of specific pieces; so it was possible that somebody else in France had owned a weapon with the same arrangement of lands and grooves as the gun what belonged to the fellow who’d been convicted. But the fact remained that there were now three ways to try to determine if a given bullet had come from a particular firearm: first, obviously, there was the caliber size; then there were particular marks left by defects in the barrel (not that every gun necessarily had such defects, but many did); and finally, there were the number and twists of the lands and grooves. Convincing as all this might’ve seemed, though, even a match between a bullet and a gun on all three counts couldn’t yet be considered the last word on identification, being as, again, there was no central authority that required gun manufacturers to register the individual specifications of each of their models: the possibility still existed that a given bullet what matched a given gun according to caliber, defects, and grooves and lands had actually been fired by some unknown matching weapon. Oh, sure, ballistic experts like the detective sergeants could protest that the chances of any two guns having exactly the same specifications were somewhere in the neighborhood of a million to one; but even a million to one left room for doubt, and so, while ballistic evidence had become what you might call mighty handy to modern-thinking investigators, it still wasn’t accepted as legally conclusive.

By the time the Isaacsons and Miss Howard had finished explaining this bit of business to Mr. Moore and me, I’d pretty well finished the job of getting my bit of metal free of the board; but my spirits, which had started to race at the prospect of actually being able to put a bullet to the ballistics test, sank considerably when I realized that I’d spent the better part of an hour carefully preserving an old nail head. Such discouragement, though, was common to detective work, I knew that much: so I picked up my magnifying lens and continued going over the surface of the wood, looking for another likely hole.

Lucius, Marcus, and Miss Howard, meanwhile, continued their lecture, explaining what the younger Isaacson brother was up to with Daniel Hatch’s Colt: for ballistics didn’t begin and end, it seemed, with the matching of bullets to barrels. Lucius also had to carefully try to determine, based on the amount of rust and powder buildup on the Peacemaker, how recently it’d been fired, and how many times. The second question seemed easy enough to answer: there were three cartridges still in the six-shooter, giving the impression that three shots had been fired. This came as no big surprise: three was the number of bullets we’d expected to be involved in the shooting of Libby Hatch’s children. But, as usual when you were dealing with forensic science, things weren’t as simple as they appeared.

It was general practice, Miss Howard explained, for people who kept pistols in their homes to leave one chamber