He's absolutely sweating evidence at every pore. As far as I can
see, he's been crawling about, doing the Sherlock Holmes business for
all he's worth ever since the thing happened, and now he's dead certain
that I painted Sammy."
"_Did_ you, by the way?" said Psmith.
"No," said Mike shortly, "I didn't. But after listening to Downing I
almost began to wonder if I hadn't. The man's got stacks of evidence to
prove that I did."
"Such as what?"
"It's mostly about my shoes. But, dash it, you know all about that. Why,
you were with him when he came and looked for them."
"It is true," said Psmith, "that Comrade Downing and I spent a very
pleasant half hour together inspecting shoes, but how does he drag
you into it?"
"He swears one of the shoes was splashed with paint."
"Yes. He babbled to some extent on that point when I was entertaining
him. But what makes him think that the shoe, if any, was yours?"
"He's certain that somebody in this house got one of his shoes splashed,
and is hiding it somewhere. And I'm the only chap in the house who
hasn't got a pair of shoes to show, so he thinks it's me. I don't know
where the dickens my other shoe has gone.
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