Psmith looked at
the name inside the boot. It was "Brown, boot-maker, Bridgnorth."
Bridgnorth was only a few miles from his own home and Mike's.
Undoubtedly it was Mike's boot.
"Can you tell me whose boot that is?" asked Mr. Downing.
Psmith looked at it again.
"No, sir. I can't say the little chap's familiar to me."
"Come with me, then."
Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him.
The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way,
the boot-bearing Psmith in close attendance.
The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest.
"Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished.
"Indeed? Dear me! It certainly seems--It is a curiously well-connected
thread of evidence. You are certain that there was red paint on this
boot you discovered in Mr. Outwood's house?"
"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!"
"Sir?"
"You have the boot?"
"Ah," said the headmaster, putting on a pair of pince-nez, "now let me
look at--This, you say, is the--? Just so. Just so. Just.... But, er,
Mr. Downing, it may be that I have not examined this boot with
sufficient care, but--Can _you_ point out to me exactly where
this paint is that you speak of?"
Mr. Downing stood staring at the boot with a wild, fixed stare. Of any
suspicion of paint, red or otherwise, it was absolutely and entirely
innocent.
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