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once - nobody did come. I took a good look round. It had rained the night before, and there were footprints clear enough going in and out of the kitchen. In the living-room there were two sets of footprints only (Betsy Andrews' stopped at the door) - Mr. Whalley's (he was wearing carpet slippers) and another man's. The other man had stepped in the blood-stains, and I traced his bloody footprints - I beg your pardon, sir.”
    “Not at all,” said Mr. Ingles, with a faint smile; “the adjective is perfectly understood.”
    “I traced them to the kitchen - but not beyond. Point Number One. On the lintel of Robert Grant's door was a faint smear - a smear of blood. That's point Number Two. Point Number Three was when I got hold of Grant's boots - which he had taken off - and fitted them to the marks. That settled it. It was an inside job. I warned Grant and took him into custody; and what do you think I found packed away in his portmanteau? The little jade figures and a ticket-of-leave. Robert Grant was also Abraham Biggs, convicted for felony and housebreaking five years ago.”
    The Inspector paused triumphantly.
    “What do you think of that, gentlemen?”
    “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 realise 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 and quite purposeless murder. Ah, yes; I fear our Devonshire friend has not used his little gray cells. He has measured footprints, and has omitted to reflect and arrange his ideas with the necessary order and method.”

The Big Four

Chapter 4
    THE IMPORTANCE OF A LEG OF MUTTON
    The Inspector drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of Granite Bungalow. The day had been fine and dry, so our feet were not likely to leave any prints; nevertheless, we wiped them carefully on the mat before entering.
    A woman came up out of the gloom and spoke to the Inspector, and he turned aside. Then he spoke over his shoulder.
    “Have a good look round, Mr. Poirot, and see all there is to be seen. I'll be back in about ten minutes. By the way, here's Grant's boot. I brought it along with me for you to compare the impressions.”
    We went into the living-room, and the sound of the Inspector's footsteps died away outside. Ingles was attracted immediately by some Chinese curios on a table in the corner, and went over to examine them. He seemed to take no interest in Poirot's doings. I, on the other hand, watched him with breathless interest. The floor was covered with a dark-green linoleum which was ideal for showing up footprints. A door at the farther end led into the small kitchen. From there another door led