The goaded secretary turned on him.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, sir."
Baxter's old suspicion of this smooth young man came surging back to him.
"I strongly suspect you of having had something to do with this."
"Really, Baxter," said the earl, "that is surely the least probable of solutions. This young man could hardly have cleaned the shoe on his way from the house. A few days ago, when painting in the museum, I inadvertently splashed some paint on my own shoe. I can assure you it does not brush off. It needs a very systematic cleaning before all traces are removed."
"Exactly, your lordship," said Ashe. "My theory, if I may—"
"Yes?"
"My theory, your lordship, is that Mr. Baxter was deceived by the light-and-shade effects on the toe of the shoe. The morning sun, streaming in through the window, must have shone on the shoe in such a manner as to give it a momentary and fictitious aspect of redness. If Mr. Baxter recollects, he did not look long at the shoe. The picture on the retina of the eye consequently had not time to fade. I myself remember thinking at the moment that the shoe appeared to have a certain reddish tint. The mistake—"
"Bah!" said Baxter shortly.