Thou Shell of Death by Nicholas Blake Page B

and listening for such a move. He would be simply giving himself away.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ said Bleakley, scratching his head, ‘put like that, it do sound as though he must have gone out before the snow began.’
    ‘Then who made the tracks?’ asked Nigel unemphatically.
    ‘Why, that’s obvious—the person who killed h—Dash it, sir, you’ve been and hypnotized me like into saying what I never—’ Nigel’s eyes were shining with the mild benevolence of the schoolmaster who has trapped a favorite pupil.
    ‘But what about the shoes, Mr Strangeways, sir?’ went on the Superintendent, seeing a way out. ‘How did they get hold of Mr O ’Brien’s shoes? You answer me that, sir.’
    ‘We don’t know for certain they were his shoes. All we know is that his shoes tallied with the footprints. It might mean simply that he and X wear the same size.’
    Bleakley whipped out his notebook and made a note. Here obviously was a line of action. But, even as he wrote, his pen slowed to a standstill.
    ‘I reckon I’m getting fair mazed,’ he exclaimed irritably. ‘I was forgetting that these blamed footsteps were going to the hut, not coming from it. It’s no good, sir.’
    ‘I know. We haven’t got over that yet. The only clue the footsteps give us is that whoever made them was running. The impress of the toe was deeper than that of the heel, as you noticed.
A priori
, this might apply equally well to O’Brien or a murderer. Neither would want to be seen going out to the hut, so they’d try to get there as quickly as possible. Anyway, I’ve got another idea about those shoes: I’ll tell you it when we arrive at that point.’ Nigel resumed his professional manner and went on: ‘Assume O’Brien has arrived at the hut, some time about midnight. Assume, if you like, that he intended to kill himself. He locked the windows, but not the door—for it was not locked when we found him dead. Contradiction number one: Why lock windows and not door? He takes off his shoes and puts on carpet slippers. Would a person like him—or anyone—change their shoes before committing suicide?’
    ‘Might be just force of habit.’
    ‘It might; but it’s a point worth noticing. My uncle told me, too, that there was a legend about O’Brien’s always putting on carpet slippers when he went into action in the air. Sounds as if he felt he was going into action again—against an unknown enemy.’
    ‘I call that pretty far-fetched,’ protested Bleakley.
    ‘But possibly worth the carriage,’ murmured Nigel, quoting Dr Johnson; ‘and interesting in relation to the fingerprints on the revolver.’
    The superintendent’s brick-red face looked blank as a wall.
    ‘Supposing O’Brien intended to commit suicide. He would either have been quite determined about it, in which case he would simply have pulled out the revolver and shot himself without bothering to change his shoes; or he might have wavered at the last moment, in which case he would surely have fingered the gun nervously and there would have been prints on the muzzle. But he
did
change his shoes, and there
were
no prints except on the handle.’
    ‘That’s downright clever, sir, that is. But it’s not conclusive, not by any manner of means.’
    ‘“Little drops of water, Little grains of sand”—you know. Here’s another. How many suicides have you heard of who have shot themselves in the heart? Through the temples they do it; or else put the muzzle into their mouth.’
    ‘Ah. I’d wondered about that,’ admitted Bleakley.
    ‘To proceed. Your theory is, I presume, that he shot himself, and struck his wrist against the edge of the table as he fell, bruising himself and breaking the cufflink. I have two objections to that. A blow of this type would make a single bruise, not two; and the little chain of a cufflink is surely not so weak that the impact of an arm falling limply on a table edge would break it. Now imagine this pipe is a revolver. I am pointing it at