"
"He painted...!" said Mr. Outwood, round-eyed. "Why?"
"I don't know why. At any rate, he did. During the escapade one of his
shoes was splashed with the paint. It is that shoe which I believe Smith
to be concealing in this cupboard. Now, do you understand?"
Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Psmith, and Psmith shook his head
sorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. Psmith's expression said, as plainly as if
he had spoken the words, "We must humor him."
"So with your permission, as Smith declares that he has lost the key, I
propose to break open the door of this cupboard. Have you any
objection?"
Mr. Outwood started.
"Objection? None at all, my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, _what_
is it you wish to do?"
"This," said Mr. Downing shortly.
There was a pair of dumbbells on the floor, belonging to Mike. He never
used them, but they always managed to get themselves packed with the
rest of his belongings on the last day of the holidays. Mr. Downing
seized one of these, and delivered two rapid blows at the cupboard door.
The wood splintered. A third blow smashed the flimsy lock. The cupboard,
with any skeletons it might contain, was open for all to view.
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