Arthur Somers Roche

“ I said. “And all we’ve got to do is find footsteps leading away from the ice. Then find the man whose shoes will fit those prints——”
“Good Weatherby Jones stuff,” derided Carney. “If you was writin’ about a case of his that’s what you’d have the murderer do and people would think how clever your detective was! But this ain’t one of your stories. The man clever enough to leave them overshoes and continue in his ordinary shoes ain’t fool enough to do what you suggest. He’d find some well-worn path in the snow and foller that from the lake.” ”

“ Likewise, if he was clever enough to think of the trail, he was clever enough to know that it wouldn’t do for him to stay out on the ice long. Too liable to be seen. He’d make right for the nearest path that was trampled, so his footprints wouldn’t be so noticeable, and that nearest path was the path we’re on now.”
I stopped.
“But this path, then, will show footprints. We can make every one in the hotel—every one that’s been seen near the hotel, fit his shoes to every mark.”
“Yours would fit some of these marks, wouldn’t they? And so would Minot’s and Ravenell’s and Miss Gilman’s. ”

“ Ravenell and Minot had gone up-stairs, so our landlord told us. We informed him of our unsatisfactory pursuit and finding of the overshoes.
“They might sneak out the same way tonight,” suggested the captain, anxiously.
But Carney shook his head.
“They ain’t such fools. They know better. And they don’t think they’re in any danger, anyway. ”

“ Traffic ain’t very heavy in the Winter, in these parts, and the people livin’ along the road, some of them, would be sure to notice any one that went by. Especially as he’d be a stranger.”
“Why do you say that?” ”