“And now,” said Ellery in a totally different voice when they had disappeared down the corridor, “come here a moment, dad. I want to talk to you alone.”

At 6:30 that evening Mr. Ellery Queen presided at his own table, watching three young faces bursting with sternly repressed news. The remains of a dinner, barely touched, strewed the cloth.

Miss Ickthorpe had somehow contrived, in the interval between her dismissal and her appearance at the Queens’ apartment, to change her gown; she was now attired in something lacy and soft, which set off—as she obviously was aware—the whiteness of her throat, the brownness of her eyes, and the pinkness of her cheeks. The young men were preoccupied with their coffee cups.

“Now, class,” chuckled Ellery, “recitations.” They brightened, sat straighter and moistened their lips. “You’ve had, each of you, about two hours in which to crystallize the results of your first investigation. Whatever happens, I can’t take credit, since so far I’ve taught you nothing. But by the end of this little confabulation, I’ll have a rough idea of just what material I’m working with.”

“Yes, sir,” said Miss Ickthorpe.

“John—we may as well discard formality—what’s your theory?”

Burrows said slowly: “I’ve more than a theory, Mr. Queen. I’ve the solution!”

“A solution, John. Don’t be too cocky. And what,” said Ellery, “is this solution of yours?” Burrows drew a breath from the depths of his boots. “The clue that led to my solution was Spargo’s wrist-watch.” Crane and the girl started. Ellery blew smoke and said encouragingly: “Go on.”

“The two creases on the leather strap,” replied Burrows, “were significant. As Spargo wore the watch, the prong was caught in the second hole, so that there was a crease across the second hole. Yet a deeper crease appeared across the third hole. Conclusion: the watch was habitually worn by a person with a smaller wrist. In other words, the watch was not Spargo’s!”

“Bravo,” said Ellery softly. “Bravo.”

“Why, then, was Spargo wearing some one else’s watch? For a very good reason, I maintain. The doctor had said Spargo died between 11:00 and 11:30. Yet the watch-hands had apparently stopped at 10:20. The answer to this discrepancy? That the murderer, finding no watch on Spargo, took her own watch, cracked the crystal and stopped the works, then set the hands at 10:20 and strapped it about Spargo’s dead wrist. This would seem to establish the time of death at 10:20 and would give the murderer an opportunity to provide an alibi for that time, when all the while the murder actually occurred about 11:20. How’s that?”