Mr. Geoffrey Raymond hears someone in here asking for money and Mr. Ackroyd refusing. What happens next? Captain Paton leaves the same way—through the window. He walks along the terrace, angry and baffled. He comes to the open drawing room window. Say it’s now a quarter to ten. Miss Flora Ackroyd is saying goodnight to her uncle. Major Blunt, Mr. Raymond, and Mrs. Ackroyd are in the billiard room. The drawing room is empty. He steals in, takes the dagger from the silver table, and returns to the study window. He slips off his shoes, climbs in, and—well, I don’t need to go into details. Then he slips out again and goes off. Hadn’t the nerve to go back to the inn. He makes for the station, rings up from there—”
“Why?” said Poirot softly.
I jumped at the interruption. The little man was leaning forward. His eyes shone with a queer green light.
For a moment Inspector Raglan was taken aback by the question.
“It’s difficult to say exactly why he did that,” he said at last. “But murderers do funny things. You’d know that if you were in the police force. The cleverest of them make stupid mistakes sometimes. But come along and I’ll show you those footprints.”
We followed him round the corner of the terrace to the study window. At a word from Raglan a police constable produced the shoes which had been obtained from the local inn.
The inspector laid them over the marks.
“They’re the same,” he said confidently. “That is to say, they’re not the same pair that actually made these prints. He went away in those. This is a pair just like them, but older—see how the studs are worn down.”
“Surely a great many people wear shoes with rubber studs in them?” asked Poirot.