"So they do by this light, but I think that by daylight we shall find
them to be a dark, reddish-brown. You can see the colour now if you look
at the smaller fragments of the one that is crushed."

He handed me his lens, and, when I had verified his statement, he
produced from his pocket a small tin box with a closely-fitting lid in
which he deposited the paper, having first folded it up into a small
parcel.

"We will put the pencil in too," said he; and, as he returned the box to
his pocket he added: "you had better get one of these little boxes from
Polton. If is often useful to have a safe receptacle for small and
fragile articles."

He folded up and replaced the dead man's clothes as we had found them.
Then, observing a pair of shoes standing by the wall, he picked them up
and looked them over thoughtfully, paying special attention to the backs
of the soles and the fronts of the heels.

"I suppose we may take it," said he, "that these are the shoes that poor
Jeffrey wore on the night of his death. At any rate there seem to be no
others. He seems to have been a fairly clean walker. The streets were
shockingly dirty that day, as I remember most distinctly. Do you see any
slippers? I haven't noticed any."

He opened and peeped into a cupboard in which an overcoat surmounted by
a felt hat hung from a peg like an attenuated suicide; he looked in all
the corners and into the sitting-room, but no slippers were to be seen.