"Are you satisfied?" asked the doctor.
"Far from satisfied," said Beale, and with no other word he walked out and down the stairs again.
Half-way down he saw something lying on one of the stairs and picked it up. It was a shoe, the fellow of that which he had in his pocket, and it had not been there when he came up.
* * * * *
Oliva Cresswell had read the story of the crime in the Post Record, had folded up the paper with a little shiver and was at her tiny writing-bureau when a knock came at the door. It was Dr. van Heerden.
"Can I come in for a moment?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"I shan't eat you," he smiled, "but I am so distressed by what has happened and I feel that an explanation is due to you."
"I shouldn't trouble about that," she smiled, "but if you want to come in, please do."