The grass was slightly bent and bruised. Faint though it was, the track of a small shoe was discernible, showing its size and the direction in which it was turned.
“I see,” Fallon nodded, crouching with Nick to examine it. “Some one recently stepped here, not longer ago than last evening.”
“That some one was a child, a girl, or a woman with a small foot,” Nick replied. “It most likely was the last, a young woman.”
“Why so?”
“Notice the prints of the heel, which sank a little into the sod. It was small and quite high. The deduction is a simple one. Only young women wear shoes with French heels. They are seldom found on girls, or on elderly women.”
“By Jove, you overlook nothing, Nick.”
“Not this, surely, for it stares me in the face,” Nick replied. “Here’s another. Notice that the first points nearly toward the street. This points toward the rear grounds. Plainly, then, the woman was going toward the street when she first stepped from the gravel walk, and she then turned in the opposite direction.”
“That’s plain, too,” Fallon agreed. “But what do you make of it?”
Nick glanced back at the veranda for a moment.
“The woman came from the side door, or from that opening on the veranda,” said he. “She walked as far as here, as if about to go to the street, then she turned toward the rear grounds. Take it from me, Fallon, she was Father Cleary’s first visitor last evening. He let her out, probably through the door opening upon the veranda, and she started for the street. After hearing him close the door, however, and knowing he was not watching her, she turned in the other direction.”