Miss Ickthorpe said peevishly: “I noticed that, too, but you didn’t give me a chance. . . . The powder is smoothly applied, isn’t it? No streaks, no heavy spots.”

Ellery sprang to his feet. “You’ll be Sherlock Holmeses yet. . . . The weapon, dad?”

“A heavy stone hammer, crudely made—some kind of African curio, our expert says. Spargo must have had it in his bag—his trunk hasn’t arrived yet from Chicago.”

Ellery nodded; on the bed lay an open pigskin traveling-bag. Beside it, neatly laid out, was an evening outfit: tuxedo coat, trousers, and vest; stiff-bosomed shirt; studs and cufflinks; a clean wing-collar; black suspenders; a white silk handkerchief. Under the bed were two pairs of black shoes, one pair brogues, the other patent-leather. Ellery looked around; something, it seemed, disturbed him. On the chair near the bed lay a soiled shirt, a soiled pair of socks, and a soiled suit of underwear. None exhibited bloodstains. He paused thoughtfully.

“We took the hammer away. It was full of blood and hair,” continued the Inspector. “No fingerprints anywhere. Handle anything you want—everything’s been photographed and tested for prints.”

Ellery began to puff at a cigarette. He noticed that Burrows and Crane were crouched over the dead man, occupied with the watch. He sauntered over, Miss Ickthorpe at his heels.

Burrows’s thin face was shining as he looked up. “Here’s something!” He had carefully removed the timepiece from Spargo’s wrist and had pried open the back of the case. Ellery saw a roughly circular patch of fuzzy white paper glued to the inside of the case, as if something had been rather unsuccessfully torn away. Burrows leaped to his feet. “That gives me an idea,” he announced. “Yes, sir.” He studied the dead man’s face intently.

“And you, Crane?” asked Ellery with interest. The young chemist had produced a small magnifying-glass from his pocket and was scrutinizing the watchworks.

Crane rose. “I’d rather not say now,” he mumbled. “Mr. Queen, I’d like permission to take this watch to my laboratory.”

Ellery looked at his father; the old man nodded. “Certainly, Crane. But be sure you return it. . . . Dad, you searched this room thoroughly, fireplace and all?”

The Inspector cackled suddenly. “I was wondering when you’d get to that. There’s something almighty interesting in that fireplace.” His face fell and rather grumpily he produced a snuff-box and pinched some crumbs into his nostrils. “Although I’ll be hanged if I know what it means.”