"Sir Jeffrey carries no cane," I began----
"Good! I had failed to note that. Good! But what else?"
Closely I surveyed the body, noting the disarranged garments, the
discoloured face.
"What of this torn brown paper?" snapped my friend.
"Good heavens!" I cried; and like a flash my glance sought again those
mysterious tracks--those tracks of _something_ that had crawled away
from the murdered man.
"Where," inquired East deliberately, "is the Burmese porcelain ape of
which we have heard? And, since there are no tracks _approaching_ the
body, where did the creature come from that made those retiring from it,
and ... what manner of creature was it?"