“I wonder why they brought such a large card-index down with them from town.”
Armadale was taken aback.
“Card-index, sir? Where was it?”
“I noticed it in their sitting-room as we passed the open door. It's one of these small cabinet affairs.”
The inspector had no suggestion to offer; and Sir Clinton did not seem to be anxious to pursue the matter. A few yards farther on he halted, and pointed to something at the edge of one of the puddles.
“Doesn't that footprint seem a bit familiar, inspector? Just measure it, will you?”
Armadale's eyes widened as he looked.
“Why, it's that 3½ shoe!” he exclaimed, stooping over the mark.
“I noticed it as we were coming up, but it didn't seem to be the best time for examining it,” Sir Clinton explained. “Now, inspector, that's a permanent kind of puddle. The chances are that this mark was made before last night's rain. It's on the very edge of the water now, not the place where a girl would step if she could help it. The puddle's filled up a bit since she made it.”
“So she was Staveley's visitor last night?”