The large, somewhat rectangular hole in the wall was new. It must have been made this morning, for as best as Arthur could recall it hadn't been there last night. He stood in front of the hole for a few minutes, studying it like a forensic investigator. He ran the index finger of his right hand along the outer rim of the hole, trying to imagine just what it could have been that made the hole.
The hole was too large to have been made by any of the candlesticks or lamps in the room, and certainly could not of been made by a hammer. A hammer with a head the size of the hole would have kept going, as the momentum of the swing necessary to create the hole would have surely carried the hammer clear through the narrow strips of wood and plaster of the wall of the adjoining room like a rifle bullet through a watermelon.
Arthur reached into the hole. He felt around with his hand for the pieces of wood or chunks of plaster that had formerly been an integrated part of the wall, thinking they may be still attached by splinters or thin shards to the bottom lip of the hole, but there was nothing there. Whatever it was that had created the hole had torn the lath and plaster completely off and the pieces had no doubt fallen to the bottom of the inside of the wall.
Just as Arthur was turning away from his examination of the hole, his friend and house guest Adler Simms entered the room. "Ah, good afternoon Arthur, my apologies for having had to leave without a proper explanation in the early hours of the morning. Afraid I was in a bit of distress."
"Distress?" Queried Arthur as he looked at his old Army compatriot. "What could possibly have caused you distress?" As those words escaped his lips Arthur noticed the bandages wrapped about Adler's right hand.
"Last night, after we had finished with the billiards and bid goodnight to one another, I was overcome with a slight bit of insomnia. I retired here, the library, in the hopes that an hours perusal of Ainsworth or Zola would bring the sleep I craved. Unfortunately, an unwelcome visitor disturbed my attempt to self-induce sedation."
"A visitor? At that ungodly hour? Whom could it have been?" Arthur stammered out the words with a mystified glaze in his grey eyes. "Not whom," replied Adler, "but what. It was the largest, most obnoxious, and certainly the most irritatingly elusive mosquito I have ever encountered. Got the little bugger though."
Arthur looked at Adler's bandaged hand again, and then back at the hole. The missing piece to the puzzle fell right into place. "I'll have to get Graham in here to tidy things up. Dreadfully sorry about the inconvenience. Though I would be remiss to point out that swatters are kept near all of the windows."
"Right, noticed them just after I made the choice to silence the intruder with my fist. May have been the effects of the Brandy."
Adler smiled as he said this and both men laughed at the allusion to the night in Paris 14 years ago that saw them both fleeing the Prussian forces of Wilhelm I in the company of three young parlour maids and a wagon laden with casks of the finest brandy in all of France.
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