They returned to the office building, where Creighton patiently questioned Nelson at some length about the various phases of the strike. It was not until they had left the tannery and were walking back up the hill that Krech was able to put an eager question.
"What was the racket with that piece of wood?"
"That was a stunt to cover my real interest from the watchman. No use letting the whole world in on what I'm thinking about."
"You didn't fool him any more than you did me. Please explain why I'm going home with over an inch of mud on my expensive shoes."
"I wanted you to make a set of tracks alongside those of the incendiary. I didn't want to ask you right out loud to do it, so I asked you to get me that bit of wood. When you did so, you left a very nice set of footprints parallel with his. Thus I was enabled to compare them, as were you, if you happened to think of doing so."
"Well, I didn't! Why should I?"
"Suppose you were a small man about to commit a crime and wished to disguise yourself past recognition. What would you do?"
"Make myself look like a large man," said Krech slowly.
"Exactly. Suppose again that you were an educated man about to write an anonymous, threatening letter. How would you go about doing that?"
"I'd use a typewriter to conceal my handwriting. I'd sign the thing in an awkward scrawl." Krech saw the drift of it now. "And I'd take good care to misspell a bunch of words!" he concluded triumphantly.