On the tessellated floor was a little patch no bigger than a saucer which had been recently washed.
He beckoned the manager.
"Who has been cleaning this tile?" he asked.
The manager shrugged his shoulders.
"It was the doctor, sare—so eccentric! He call for a glass of water and he dip his handkerchief in and then lift up his foot and with rapidity incredible he wash the floor with his handkerchief!"
"Fool!" snapped Beale. "Oh, hopeless fool!"
"Sare!" said the startled manager.
"It's all right, M'sieur Barri," smiled Beale ruefully. "I was addressing myself—oh, what a fool I've been!"
He went down on his knees and examined the floor.
"I want this tile, don't let anybody touch it," he said.