Then she had another idea. The culprit could not have left the Library with her bare feet. She would have put on her slippers again. If you put paint-stained feet into slippers, the slippers ought to show signs of it.
She went back to her own room and dressed. Then she returned to the New Quad. Miss Burrows had gone. Her bedroom slippers lay by the bed. Harriet examined them minutely, inside and out, but they were quite free from paint.
On her way back again, Harriet overtook Padgett. He was walking sedately across the lawn, carrying a large can of turpentine in each hand.
‘Where did you rake that up, Padgett, so early in the morning?’
‘Well, miss, Mullins went on his motor-bike and knocked up a chap he knows what lives over his own oil-shop, miss.’
As simple as that.
* * * *
Some
