Mr. Sheringham Investigates a Footprint
“Show me _what_?” Alec exclaimed, bounding out of his chair.
“How the murderer escaped,” Roger repeated, turning and smiling
happily at his dumb-founded accomplice. “It’s extraordinarily simple,
really. That’s why we never spotted it. Have you ever noticed, Alec,
that it’s always the simple things of life—plans, inventions, what you
like—that are the most effective? Take, for instance——”
Alec seized his too voluble friend by the shoulder and shook him
violently.
“_How_ did the chap escape?” he demanded.
Roger pointed to the window through which he had been leaning.
“There!” he said simply.
“Yes, but how do you know?” cried the exasperated Alec.
“Oh, is that what you meant? Come, friend Alec.” Roger took his
fellow-sleuth by the arm and pointed triumphantly to the window-sill.
On the surface of the white paint were a few faint scratches. “You see
those? Now look at that!” And he indicated something on the flower bed
beneath. “I said it must be lying under our noses all the time,” he
added complacently.
Alec leaned out of the window and looked at the bed. Just below the
window was an unmistakable footprint, the toe pointing towards the
window.
“You said _escaped_, didn’t you?” he asked, withdrawing his head.
“I did, Alexander.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you and all that,” said Alec, in a tone
that curiously belied his words, “but nobody escaped this way. Someone
got in. If you look again, carefully this time, you’ll see that the
toe is pointing towards the window; not the heel. That means that
somebody stepped from the ground to the window-ledge, not _vice
versa_.”
“Alec, you are on your day to-day, aren’t you?” said Roger admiringly.
“Precisely the same thought occurred to myself at a first glance.
Then, looking carefully, as you so kindly suggest, I noticed that the
indentation of the heel is very much deeper than that of the toe,
indicating that somebody stepped backwards from the window to the
ground, after thoughtfully closing the window behind him. If he’d been
stepping up, the toe would be deeper than the heel, as a moment’s
thought will show you, won’t it?”
“Oh!” said the crestfallen Alec.
“Sorry to have to score off you in that blatant Sherlockian way,”
Roger continued more kindly, “but you did ask for it, you know. No,
but seriously, Alec, this is most extraordinarily important. It clears
up the last difficulty about murder.”
“But how did he close the window behind him?” asked Alec, still half
incredulous.
“Oh! That’s the neatest thing of all. And delightfully simple,
although it took me a minute or two to discover it after I’d seen the
footprint. Look! You see this handle, the ordinary type for this sort
of window. It consists of an arm that fits into the lock and a heavy
handle set at right angles to it, the whole moving on a central pivot;
the weight of the handle end keeps the other end in position. Well,
watch!”
Carefully arranging the handle so that the heavy end was balanced
exactly above the pivot, Roger pushed the window sharply back into its
frame. Immediately the handle was dislodged by the jar, and, with a
little click, the fastener fell into place in its socket, the weight
of the falling handle driving it well home.
“Well, I’m dashed!” Alec said.
“Neat, isn’t it?” Roger said proudly. “He stood on the sill outside,
you see, and pulled it to behind him, having fixed the handle in
position before he got out. I suppose it’s a trick you could play with
any lattice window, though I’ve never come across it before.”
“That’s one to you, all right,” said the humbled Alec. “I take back
quite a lot of the unkind things I’ve said to you.”
“Oh, don’t trouble to apologise,” Roger said magnanimously. “Though I
did warn you that I should turn out to be right in the end, you
remember. Well, I don’t think you’ll trouble to dispute the fact of
murder any more, will you?”
“Don’t rub it in,” Alec protested. “I did it for the best, like the
doctor in the poem. Well, what’s the next move?”
“Let’s go out and have a look at that footprint at close range, shall
we?” Roger suggested. “There might be some others, too. Footprints! We
_are_ getting professional, aren’t we?”
On a more careful inspection the footprint fully bore out Roger’s
contention that it must have been made by a man stepping backward from
the sill. The heel end was nearly an inch and a half deep; the toe
scarcely half an inch. The edges were slightly blurred where the earth
had crumbled, but the mark was clearly that of a large foot.
“At least a ten boot,” Roger said, stooping over it. “Possibly eleven.
This may be very useful indeed, Alec.”
“It’s a bit of luck, certainly,” Alec agreed.
Roger straightened up and began to search among the plants near the
edge of the bed. After a moment he dropped on his knees on the grass
border.
“Look!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Here’s another!”
He parted two little shrubs and peered between them. Alec saw another
footprint, not so deep as the last, but quite plainly marked in the
dry earth. The toe of this one was also pointing towards the window.
“Same fellow?” he asked, bending over it.
“Yes,” Roger replied, examining the print intently. “The other boot.
Let’s see, this is well over a yard from the last one, isn’t it? He
must have stepped back on to the path in two big strides.” He rose to
his feet and dusted the knees of his trousers. “It’s a pity we can’t
track him any farther,” he added disappointedly.
“Can you do anything more with these?” Alec asked with interest.
“I don’t know. We ought to take accurate measurements of them some
time, I suppose. Oh, and there’s something else I should very much
like to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Get hold of a specimen boot from every male person in the house and
grounds and fit them into these prints,” Roger exclaimed, raising his
voice slightly in his excitement. “Yes, that’s what we ought to do if
we possibly can.”
Alec was pondering.
“But look here, wouldn’t you say that these footprints meant that the
fellow was someone outside the house? They show him getting away from
the place after Stanworth had been killed, don’t they? If the chap had
been someone inside the house, why should he have troubled to get out
so elaborately through the window, when all he’d got to do was to walk
out by the door? After all the other things he’d done to make it look
like suicide, it wouldn’t really be necessary to leave the door locked
on the inside, would it?”
“You mean we’re not likely to find a boot in the house to correspond
with these prints?”
“Not if the chap were someone from outside, no. What do you think?”
“Oh, yes, I agree. I think in all probability it was someone not
belonging to the household. You’re quite right about the existence of
these footprints all pointing to that conclusion. But we don’t
actually _know_, do we? And I believe in eliminating all
possibilities, however remote. If we can get a chance to try
everyone’s boots out and they don’t fit, then we know quite definitely
that everybody in this house is free from suspicion of committing the
crime itself; though not from suspicion of other things, by the way.”
“What other things?” Alec asked interestedly.
“Being an accessory after the fact. After, certainly; and not
improbably before, as well, some of them. It seems to me, Alec,” Roger
added pathetically, “that three quarters of this household seem to be
accessories after the fact! It isn’t fair.”
“Humph!” said Alec. This was trespassing upon ground which he had no
wish to cover. He felt thankful that at any rate Barbara Shannon’s
mysterious behaviour had not come to Roger’s ears. What would the
latter have said had he heard of that? Accessory after the fact seemed
mild in comparison.
“Hullo! What’s up?” he asked, suddenly catching sight of Roger.
That gentleman was listening intently, his head on one side. At Alec’s
words he held up his finger warningly.
“Thought I heard someone in the library!” he whispered. “You creep up
to the lattice window and look through. I’ll try the French ones.
Carefully!”
Enjoying himself thoroughly, he made his way stealthily to the side of
the French windows and peeped cautiously round them. He had his
reward. The library door was closing softly.
He hurried back to Alec. “Did you see?” he asked, in a voice thick
with suppressed excitement. “Did you see?”
Alec nodded. “Somebody was going out of the library,” he said.
“Yes, but did you see who it was, man?”
Alec shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t. Got here too late.”
The two looked at each other in silence.
“The question is, were we overheard?” Roger said at last.
“Good Lord!” Alec exclaimed in dismay. “Do you think we were?”
“Impossible to say. I hope to goodness we weren’t, though. It would
rather give things away, wouldn’t it?”
“Hopelessly!” said Alec with fervour.
Roger looked at him curiously. “Why, Alexander, you’re actually
getting quite keen on the chase at last!”
“It’s—it _is_ rather exciting,” Alec confessed, almost apologetically.
“That’s the spirit. Well, come off that bed and let’s get farther away
from the house to discuss what’s to be done next. It’s not safe to
talk near these windows, evidently. Hullo, you’ve made rather a mess
of the bed. Steady! Don’t step on our two particular prints.”
Alec glanced ruefully at the bed, which was now embellished with
several extra footprints.
“I’d better smooth mine out,” he said hastily. “They look a bit
suspicious, all round that window, don’t they? Anyone can see that
we’ve been mucking about here.”
“Yes, do,” Roger said approvingly. “But hurry up, and for goodness’
sake, don’t let anybody see you. That would be worse still.”
“And now, Sherlock Sheringham,” said Alec, when they had gained the
security of the lawn, “what do you propose? Isn’t it time you
disguised yourself, or something? I’m sure the best detectives always
do that at about this stage of the proceedings.”
“Don’t be ribald, friend Alec,” Roger said reprovingly. “This is a
very serious business, and we’re getting along with it very nicely. I
think our next move is fairly clear, isn’t it? We embark on the quest
of the Mysterious Stranger.”
“What mysterious stranger?”
“I mean, we make some inquiries round about as to whether any stranger
was seen near the place last night. The lodge, the station, the
village, and the rest of it.”
“That seems a sound scheme.”
“Yes, but before we start there’s just one other thing I want to do.
You saw how productive the contents of the waste-paper basket were. I
should like to have a look at yesterday’s as well.”
“Haven’t they been destroyed?”
“No, I don’t think so. I made some inquiries while you were otherwise
engaged just now, saying that I had thrown away a letter I meant to
keep, and as far as I can make out the contents of all the waste-paper
baskets are emptied on to an ash pit at the back of the house, where
they lie till William sees fit to use them up in a bonfire. I want to
have a peep at that ash pit before we start. Not that I really expect
to find anything, but you never know.”
“How do we get there?”
“We’ll go round the front of the house; it’s somewhere on the farther
side, I think. We’d better get a move on; we’ve got no time to waste.”
“I’m game,” said Alec, quite enthusiastically.
They set off.
In front of the house the car was standing, the chauffeur lounging
negligently at the wheel as if he had been there some time.
Roger whistled softly.
“Hullo, hullo, hul-_lo!_” he said softly. “What’s this?”
“It’s the car,” replied the ever literal Alec.
“I said you’d make a great detective one day, if you ever took it up
seriously, Alec. No, you goop! What’s the car doing here? Who’s it
waiting for?”
“Better ask the chauffeur, I should think,” said Alec, quite
unruffled.
“I will.”
Alec slapped his pockets.
“Dash it all! I’ve left my pipe somewhere. In the library, I think.
I’ll run back for it while you’re speaking to the chauffeur; that’ll
give you a chance to dawdle. Won’t be a minute.”
He jog-trotted round the angle of the house, and Roger sauntered
towards the chauffeur.
When Alec reappeared, pipe in mouth, two or three minutes later, Roger
was waiting for him near the car. There was a look of mingled
apprehension and triumph on his face.
“Ah, here you are!” he exclaimed in a loud voice. “Well, we’d better
be off if we want anything like a decent long walk before tea.”
Alec opened his mouth to speak, but caught a warning look and was
silent. Roger took his arm and drew him at a rapid pace down the
drive. It was not till they had turned a corner and the house was
securely hidden from view that he spoke again.
“In here,” he observed briskly, and plunged into the thick bushes
which bordered the drive on either side.
In some bewilderment Alec followed. “What’s the idea?” he asked, as he
rejoined his companion.
“A little game of hide-and-seek. You heard what I fog-horned to you
just now? That was for the benefit of the chauffeur; so that just in
case anybody were to ask him what Messrs. Grierson and Sheringham are
up to this afternoon, he has his answer pat. Now I want to see just
how long it is after the disappearance of the two said gentlemen that
that car leaves its anchorage. You see, the chauffeur told me that he
is waiting to take Jefferson into Elchester, Alec.”
“I expect that’s right,” Alec replied intelligently. “Jefferson said
he’d got to go in, you remember.”
“He’s been waiting nearly half an hour, Alec.”
“Has he? Yes, probably he has. It must be getting on for that since
Jefferson came into the library.”
“Therefore Jefferson intended to go into Elchester half an hour ago,
Alec. And he didn’t go, Alec. And he’s been in the house all that time
instead, Alec. And somebody whom we couldn’t see came into the library
and went away very quietly indeed, Alec. And can you put two and two
together, Alec?”
“Do you mean that—that it was Jefferson who came into the library that
time?”
“Amazing!” observed Roger admiringly. “I can’t think how the man does
it. It must be something to do with wireless. Yes, Alec; you’re quite
right. I most certainly do think it was Jefferson who came into the
library that time. But don’t you see the other significance? Why
didn’t he go into Elchester half an hour ago? He was surely quite
ready when he came and told us. Was it because I somehow roused his
suspicions, asking him about priest-holes and things, and he stayed
behind to spy on us and find out what we were up to?”
“The Lord knows!” said Alec helplessly.
“Well, it looks like it, doesn’t it? It looks as if Jefferson is
getting suspicious. Uncommonly suspicious. I don’t like it. Things are
going to get awkward if they get wind of our little game. We shan’t be
able to investigate in peace any longer.”
“Dashed awkward,” Alec agreed feelingly.
“Hush!” Roger crouched down hastily behind a bush, and Alec followed
suit. As they did so, there came the noise of an approaching car, and
the big blue Sunbeam swept past them and down the drive.
Roger glanced at his watch.
“Humph! Started four minutes after we did. It all fits in, doesn’t it?
But there’s one thing that really is worrying me badly.”
“What’s that?”
They scrambled through the undergrowth and headed for the house once
more. Roger turned impressively to Alec.
“Did he or did he not hear what we were saying outside that window?
And if he did, how much?”