“Walking a long way in them, too,” said Lord Peter, “to get such blisters as that. Didn’t that strike you as odd, in a person evidently well off?”
“Well, I don’t know. The blisters were two or three days old. He might have got stuck in the suburbs one night, perhaps—last train gone and no taxi—and had to walk home.”
“Possibly.”
“There were some little red marks all over his back and one leg I couldn’t quite account for.”
“I saw them.”
“What did you make of them?”
“I’ll tell you afterwards. Go on.”
“He was very long-sighted—oddly long-sighted for a man in the prime of life; the glasses were like a very old man’s. By the way, they had a very beautiful and remarkable chain of flat links chased with a pattern. It struck me he might be traced through it.”
“I’ve just put an advertisement in the Times about it,” said Lord Peter. “Go on.”
“He had had the glasses some time—they had been mended twice.”