Richardson's First Case (25 page)

While his subordinate was wrestling with the trunk call, Symington betook himself to the garden again in the hope of finding some clue to the number of persons who had made a felonious entry overnight. It would be easy, of course, to compare the soles of MacDougal's boots with the booted footprints: it might be well to get a photograph of the others before a shower of rain obliterated their outlines. Symington walked round towards the entrance gate and made a cast into the laurel bushes on his left. His heart beat fast when five yards from the drive he came upon a laurel leaf, fresh-plucked, lying on the ground, and close to it a clear footprint.

He stepped back into the drive and looked towards the house. Porter had come out. He seemed to be looking for him. Symington waved an arm and the man came to him, almost at a run.

“Did you get through to them all right?”

“Yes, sir. They told me—”

“You can tell me that later. I want you to look at this.” He led his subordinate to the footprint. “A pretty clear print that, wouldn't you say? We'll take a cast from it presently, but in the meantime I want you to measure it carefully.”

“Very good, sir. I don't know whether you've noticed how thin the sole is. It looks like the kind of shoe that gentlemen wear in town. Oh, and here's another.”

“H'm! It's the same shoe all right, but I doubt whether it's clear enough for a cast.”

“I'm afraid not, sir, but the man who made it must have been walking away from the drive, because here's another. And look there, sir!” Porter was pointing to something lying on the ground: he pounced on it and passed it to his chief. It was a black leather pocket-book or note-case.

Symington opened it eagerly. The flaps were full of memoranda scribbled on slips of paper, a letter or two, and—biggest prize of all—three or four visiting-cards.

“Look at this, Porter.” He handed him one of the visiting-cards bearing the name “Mr. Ronald Eccles,” and in the left lower corner—“H.M.S.
Dauntless
.”

“This is something like a clue, sir.”