r. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him.

The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way, the
shoe-bearing Psmith in close attendance.

The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest.

"Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished, "Indeed? Dear me! It
certainly seems ... It is a curiously well-connected thread of evidence.
You are certain that there was red paint on this shoe you discovered in
Mr. Outwood's house?"

"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!"

"Sir?"

"You have the shoe?"

"Ah," said the headmaster, putting on a pair of pince-nez, "now let me
look at--This, you say, is the--? Just so. Just so. Just ... But, er,
Mr. Downing, it may be that I have not examined this shoe with
sufficient care, but--Can _you_ point out to me exactly where this paint
is that you speak of?"

Mr. Downing stood staring at the shoe with a wild, fixed stare. Of any
suspicion of paint, red or otherwise, it was absolutely and
entirely innocent.

21

THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE

The shoe became the center of attention, the cynosure of all eyes. Mr.
Downing fixed it with the piercing stare of one who feels that his brain
is tottering. The headmaster looked at it with a mildly puzzled
expression. Psmith, putting up his eyeglass, gazed at it with a sort of
affectionate interest, as if he were waiting for it to do a trick of
some kind.

Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence.

"There was paint on this shoe," he said vehemently. "I tell you there
was a splash of red paint across the toe. Smith will bear me out in
this. Smith, you saw the paint on this shoe?"

"Paint, sir?"

"What! Do you mean to tell me that you did _not_ see it?"

"No, sir. There was no paint on this shoe."

"This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash right
across the toe."

The headmaster interposed.

"You must have made a mistake, Mr. Downing. There is certainly no trace
of paint on this shoe. These momentary optical delusions are, I fancy,
not uncommon. Any doctor will tell you--"

"I had an aunt, sir," said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkably
subject--"

"It is absurd. I cannot have been mistaken," said Mr. Downing. "I am
positively certain the toe of this shoe was red when I found it."

"It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing."

"A sort of chameleon shoe," murmured Psmith.

The goaded housemaster turned on