“Not from the print,——” Wise said,—thoughtfully, and then added nothing to his unsatisfactory statement.
He then took a paper-cutter from the desk, and scraped onto a bit of smooth paper what dust he could get from the footprint, and carefully folded it up and put it in his pocketbook.
“What shoes were you wearing when you visited the safe last night, Mrs Varian?” he asked.
“Bedroom slippers,” she replied.
“Had you walked anywhere except to traverse the halls and stairs, from your bedroom down here?”
“No, nowhere else.”
“And you took that package of money up to your room with you?”
“Yes.”
“Had you not done so, it would have been stolen,” Wise said, calmly. “A thief visited this safe after you were here,—he thought the money was here. He was surprised by the maid, Martha, coming down to spy on him,—and in order to get rid of her,—and save himself, he strangled her.”
All present stared at him, and Rodney Granniss flushed a deep red.