On the soft earth were the very distinct
impressions of the tyres of a motor-car leading from the wide door of
the outhouse. Finding that the door was unfastened, Thorndyke opened it,
and looked in, to satisfy himself that the place was empty. Then he fell
to studying the tracks.
"The course of events is pretty plain," he observed. "First the fellow
brought down his luggage, started the engine, and got the car out--you
can see where it stood, both by the little pool of oil, and by the
widening and blurring of the wheel-tracks from the vibration of the free
engine; then he went back and fetched the boy--carried him pick-a-back,
I should say, judging by the depth of the toe-marks in the last set of
footprints. That was a tactical mistake. He should have taken the boy
straight into the shed."
He pointed as he spoke to one of the footprints beside the wheel-tracks,
from the toe of which projected a small segment of the print of a little
rubber heel.
We now made our way back to the house, where we found Willett pensively
rapping at the front door with a cycle-spanner. Thorndyke took a last
glance, with his hand in his pocket, at an open window above, and then,
to the coachman's intense delight, brought forth what looked uncommonly
like a small bunch of skeleton keys.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127