The Golden Slipper, and Other Problems for Violet Strange — John Shaqi
The Golden Slipper, and Other Problems for Violet StrangeGreen, Anna Katharine
General
The Golden Slipper, and Other Problems for Violet Strange
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories, American
“This: that one of the blood spots marking the criminal’s steps through
the room was decidedly more pronounced than the rest; and, what was
even more important, that the window out of which I was looking had its
counterpart in the house on the opposite side of the alley. In gazing
through the one I was gazing through the other; and not only that,
but into the darkened area of the room beyond. Instantly I saw how the
latter fact might be made to explain the former one. But before I say
how, let me ask if it is quite settled among you that the smears on the
floor and stairs mark the passage of the criminal’s footsteps!”
“Certainly; and very bloody feet they must have been too. His shoes--or
rather his one shoe--for the proof is plain that only the right one left
its mark--must have become thoroughly saturated to carry its traces so
far.”
“Do you think that any amount of saturation would have done this? Or,
if you are not ready to agree to that, that a shoe so covered with
blood could have failed to leave behind it some hint of its shape, some
imprint, however faint, of heel or toe? But nowhere did it do this. We
see a smear--and that is all.”
“You are right, Miss Strange; you are always right. And what do you
gather from this?”
She looked to see how much he expected from her, and, meeting an eye not
quite as free from ironic suggestion as his words had led her to expect,
faltered a little as she proceeded to say:
“My opinion is a girl’s opinion, but such as it is you have the right
to have it. From the indications mentioned I could draw but this
conclusion: that the blood which accompanied the criminal’s footsteps
was not carried through the house by his shoes;--he wore no shoes; he
did not even wear stockings; probably he had none. For reasons which
appealed to his judgment, he went about his wicked work barefoot; and it
was the blood from his own veins and not from those of his victim which
made the trail we have followed with so much interest. Do you forget
those broken beads;--how he kicked them about and stamped upon them in
his fury? One of them pierced the ball of his foot, and that so sharply
that it not only spurted blood but kept on bleeding with every step he
took. Otherwise, the trail would have been lost after his passage up the
stairs.”
“Fine!” There was no irony in the bureau-chief’s eye now. “You are
progressing, Miss Strange. Allow me, I pray, to kiss your hand. It is
a liberty I have never taken, but one which would greatly relieve my
present stress of feeling.”
She lifted her hand toward him, but it was in gesture, not in
recognition of his homage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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