Leon nodded, his eyes gleaming.
“Obviously,” he said.
“And I found the marks of a woman’s foot in the passage. It is dried now, but you can still see it.”
“I have already seen it,” said Leon. “It is to the left of the door: a small pointed shoe and a rubber heel. Miss Leicester opened the door to the woman, the men came in, and the rest was easy. You can’t blame Digby,” he said appealingly to George.
He was the friend at court of every agent, but this time Manfred did not argue with him.
“I blame myself,” he said. “Poiccart told me——”
“He was here,” said Aunt Alma.
“Who—Poiccart?” asked Manfred, surprised, and Gonsalez slapped his knee.
“That’s it, of course! What fools we are! We ought to have known why this wily old fox had left his post. What time was he here?”
Alma told him all the circumstances of the visit.