“I think,” said Poirot, “that it appears a very clear case—of a surprising clearness, in fact. This Biggs, or Grant, he must be a man very foolish and uneducated, eh?”
“Oh, he is that—a rough, common sort of fellow. No idea of what a footprint may mean.”
“Clearly he reads not the detective fiction! Well, Inspector, I congratulate you. We may look at the scene of the crime. Yes?”
“I’ll take you there myself this minute. I’d like you to see those footprints.”
“I, too, should like to see them. Yes, yes, very interesting, very ingenious.”
We set out forthwith. Mr. Ingles and the Inspector forged ahead. I drew Poirot back a little so as to be able to speak to him out of the Inspector’s hearing.
“What do you really think, Poirot? Is there more in this than meets the eye?”
“That is just the question, mon ami . Whalley says plainly enough in his letter that the Big Four are on his track, and we know, you and I, that the Big Four is no bogey for the children. Yet everything seems to say that this man Grant committed the crime. Why did he do so? For the sake of the little jade figures? Or is he an agent of the Big Four? I confess that this last seems more likely. However valuable the jade, a man of that class was not likely to realize the fact—at any rate, not to the point of committing murder for them. (That, par example , ought to have struck the Inspector.) He could have stolen the jade and made off with it instead of committing a brutal murder. Ah, yes; I fear our Devonshire friend has not used his little grey cells. He has measured footprints, and has omitted to reflect and arrange his ideas with the necessary order and method.”