be alike are _not_
alike. There are slight differences in size, in position, in wear; they are
not the same set of nails; it's impossible. Look for yourself. Compare any
two and you'll see _that they were never in the same pair of boots!_"

With an incredulous movement Hauteville took the glass, and in his turn
studied the photographs. As he looked, his frown deepened.

"It seems true, it certainly seems true," he grumbled, "but--how do you
account for it?"

Coquenil smiled in satisfied conviction. "Kittredge told you he had three
pairs of boots; they were machine made and the same size; he says he kept
them all going, so they were all worn approximately alike. We have the pair
that he wore that night, and another pair found in his room, but the third
pair is missing. _It's the third pair of boots that made those alleyway
footprints!_"

"Then you think--" began the judge.

"I think we shall have found Martinez's murderer when we find the man who
stole that third pair of boots."

"Stole them?"

Coquenil nodded.

"But that is all conjecture."

"It won't be conjecture to-morrow morning--it will be absolute proof,
unless----"

"Unless what?"

"Unless Kittredge lied when he told that girl he had never suffered with
gout or rheumatism."

CHAPTER XVII

"FROM HIGHER UP"

A great detective must have infinite patience. That is, the quality next to
imagination that will serve him best. Indeed, without patience, his
imagination will serve him but indifferently. Take, for instance, so small
a thing as the auger used at the Ansonia. Coquenil felt sure it had been
bought for the occasion--billiard players do not have augers conveniently
at hand. It was probably a new one, and somewhere in Paris there was a
clerk who _might_ remember selling it and _might_ be able to say whether
the purchaser was Martinez or some other man. M. Paul believed it was
another man. His imagination told him that the person who committed this
crime had suggested the manner of it, and overseen the details of it down
to even the precise placing of the eye holes. It must be so or the plan
would not have succeeded. The assassin, then, was a friend of
Martinez--that is, the Spaniard had considered him a friend, and, as it was
of the last importance that these holes through the wall be large enough
and not too large, this friend might well have seen personally to the
purchase of the auger, not leaving it to a rattle-brained billiard play