CHAPTER III

DEAD MEN’S SHOES There’s many a weary game to be played With never a penny to choose, But the weariest game in all the world Is waiting for dead men’s shoes. It was about a week later that Edward Mottisfont rang David Blake up on the telephone and begged him in agitated accents, to come to Mr. Mottisfont without delay. “It’s another attack—a very bad one,” said Edward in the hall. His voice shook a little, and he seemed very nervous. David thought it w…