The Rare Stamp Mystery. Mary Adrian

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The Rare Stamp Mystery - Mary Adrian

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So when her brother and Skeet examined the footprints in front of the barn, she got down on her hands and knees with them.

      “The thief was wearing those funny rubber-soled shoes,” said Skeet. “You can see the ridges across each footprint.”

      “Let’s make casts of the footprints,” suggested Chris, “and keep them for evidence. That’s what the FBI men do. They use plaster of Paris to make a cast. I’ve read about it in a book.”

      Skeet was thrilled with the idea. He gave Chris a friendly slap on the back. “I’ll ask Dad if we can use some of his plaster of Paris. He has a box of it in his workshop.”

      In a short while Skeet was following Chris’s instructions with the plaster of Paris. He took some of the powder, put it in a container, and then mixed water with the powder until if flowed smoothly.

      After that Skeet carefully poured the liquid over one of the footprints.

      “Please let me do the next one,” said Gayle. “Please. I won’t spill it.”

      “Okay. Watch what you’re doing, though,” said Skeet.

      Gayle poured the liquid carefully, but she did it so slowly that Skeet and Chris thought she would never finish. Then Chris poured the stuff over a footprint for himself.

      Presently the liquid hardened, and there were three perfect casts, one for each of them.

      “It works like magic,” exclaimed Gayle with delight. “I’m going to ask Mother to buy some plaster of Paris so that I can make loads of casts. Then I’ll have the footprints of all my friends.”

      “What do you want to do that for?” asked Skeet. “We’ve made these casts so that we can track down a thief.”

      “Do you suspect anyone?” asked Chris.

      Skeet thought a moment. “Mr. Stone works on the farm. He’s Dad’s handyman. He doesn’t come every day, though, but he was here yesterday.”

      “Maybe he took Possum White,” said Gayle.

      “I don’t know,” answered Skeet. “You must have evidence before you accuse a person. That’s what Dad told me.”

      “Let’s go to Mr. Stone’s house then,” replied Gayle, “and see if he is wearing rubber-soled shoes with ridges in them.”

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