"Some one tracked in the dirty snow from the balcony and forgot to shut the glass doors."
We were scarcely seated in the drawing-room when there came a knocking on the front door; and Sproot admitted Snitkin and Burke.
"You first, Burke," ordered the Sergeant, as the two officers appeared. "Any signs of an entry over the wall?"
"Not a one." The man's overcoat and trousers were smudged from top to bottom. "I crawled all round the top of the wall, and I'm here to tell you that nobody left any traces anywheres. If any guy got over that wall, he vaulted."
"Fair enough.—And now you, Snitkin."
"I got news for you." The detective spoke with overt triumph. "Somebody's walked up those outside steps to the stone balcony on the west side of the house. And he walked up 'em this morning after the snowfall at nine o'clock, for the tracks are fresh. Furthermore, they're the same size as the ones we found last time on the front walk."
"Where do these new tracks come from?" Heath leaned forward eagerly.
"That's the hell of it, Sergeant. They come from the front walk right below the steps to the front door; and there's no tracing 'em farther back because the front walk's been swept clean."
"I mighta known it," grumbled Heath. "And the tracks are only going one way?"
"That's all. They leave the walk a few feet below the front door, swing round the corner of the house, and go up the steps to the balcony. The guy who made 'em didn't come down that way."
