"Here they are," he said, picking out the original impression which he had taken.
"Yes," repeated Norton, "but have you been able to do anything toward identifying them?"
"I found it rather hard to collect prints of the shoes of all of those
I wished to compare. But I have them at last."
"And?" demanded Norton, leaning forward tensely.
"I find that there is one person whose shoe-prints are precisely the same as those we found in the Museum," went on Kennedy, tossing over the impression he had taken.
Norton scanned the two carefully. "I'm not a criminologist," he said excitedly, "but to my untrained eye it does seem as though you had here a replica of the first prints, all right." He laid them down and looked squarely at Kennedy. "Do you mind telling me whose feet made these prints?"
"Turn the second over. You will see the name written on it."
"Lockwood!" exclaimed Norton in a gasp as he read the name. "No—you don't mean it."
"I mean nothing less," repeated Kennedy firmly. "I do not say what happened afterwards, but Lockwood was in the Museum, hiding in the mummy case, that night."
Norton's mind was evidently working rapidly. "I wish I had your power of deduction, Kennedy," he said, at length. "I suppose you realize what this means?"