Footprints all around the corpse; but they were all prints of the left foot!ExcerptInspector James Hall was, like his office, a classical example of unadorned simplicity. Hall didn't like puzzles and he didn't like details. Puzzles troubled his solid head, and right now, as he slammed down the phone, the toughest problem he'd faced in months sent three thick fingers scratching over his bald head. He sat very still for a few minutes, shaking his head back and forth like an angry bull. Then his thick fist crashed down on the desk top in sudden decision. When he picked up the phone once more there was a suggestion of a twinkle in the dark, deep set eyes. "Hello! Sergeant? Listen! Send in Robert Case. Yes, the little wonder boy of the detective squad." He listened impatiently as the receiver chattered back at him. His jaw hardened into set lines. "Yes! Well, I think we've got something here that will keep little Robert Case busy for a while before he solves it. Quite a while!" Inspector Hall dropped the phone and buzzed the main desk. Over the communication set he ordered a squad car to stand by. Tall and homely as a bald eagle, Hall unfolded himself from the chair and jerked on his overcoat. He was just pulling the battered felt down where it would conceal his lack of head shrubbery when a light knock sounded on the door. "Come on in, Case," he shouted. The door opened and a small, dapper individual entered. Robert Case had an innocent face that made him look like a choir boy who had just left church. He approached Hall with short steps and Hall was suddenly conscious of how carefully polished Case's shoes were in comparison to his own well worn boots.