Now, Mr. Harley, I'll ask you to look over these
footprints."
Harley dropped to his knees and made a brief but close
examination of the ground round about. One particularly clear
imprint of a pointed toe he noticed especially; and Wessex,
diving into the pocket of his light overcoat, produced a patent-
leather shoe, such as is used for evening wear.
"He had a spare pair in his bag," he explained nonchalantly, "and
his man did not prove incorruptible!"
Harley took the shoe and placed it in the impression. It fitted
perfectly!
"This is Molly Clayton, I take it?" he said, indicating the
prints of a woman's foot.
"Yes," assented Wessex. "You'll notice that they stood for some
little time and then walked off, very close together."
Harley nodded absently.
"We lose them along here," continued Wessex, leading up the lane;
"but at the corner by the big haystack they join up with the
tracks of a motor-car! I ask for nothing clearer! There was
rain that afternoon, but there's been none since."
"What does the Captain's man think?"
"The same as I do! He's not surprised at any madness on Vane's
part, with a pretty woman in the case!"
"The girl left nothing behind--no note?"
"Nothing.
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