find as much difference. I don't mean that there are not
thousands of shoes turned out in the same factory, as alike as
peas, but there is small chance of striking two pairs alike in
any group of men. Then, too, there is the wear to be counted on.
Suppose two of you men had bought shoes exactly alike, you wear
them differently; one may run over his heel slightly, another may
stub out the toe. But, these things are observable only to a
trained eye. So--I trained my eye. I made a study of it, and
now, if I see a shoe once, I never forget it, and never connect
it with the wrong man. On the street, in the cars, everywhere I
go, I look at shoes--or, rather, I did when I was training for
this stunt. It was fascinating, really. Why, sometimes the only
identifying mark would be the places worn or rubbed by the bones
of the man's foot--but it was there, allee samee! I nailed 'm,
every one! Oh, I didn't remember them all--that was only
practice. But here's the application; when I started on that
trip in Newark, I was introduced to Mr. Mortimer. Mind you, it
was the first time I had ever laid eyes on the man. Well,
unnoticed by anybody, of course, I caught onto his shoes. They
were, probably, to other people, merely ordinary shoes, but to me
they were as a flaming beacon light! I stamped them on my
memory, every detail of them. They were not brand new, for, of
course, anybody would choose an easy old pair for that walk. So
there were scratches, bumps, and worn, rubbed places, that, with
their general make-up, rendered them unmistakable to yours truly!
Then I was ready. The earnest but easily-gulled committee
carefully adjusted their useless pads of cotton and their thick
bandage over my eyes, and I was led forth to the fray.

"Remember, I asked Mr. Mortimer not only to think of the hidden