Crane looked uncomfortable. “Well, I know it sounds fantastic, but a sort of voodoo vengeance—reversion to racial type—Spargo had been cruel to African natives . . . it was in the papers. . . .”

Ellery shaded his eyes to conceal their twinkle. Then he turned to Miss Ickthorpe, who was tapping her cup nervously, squirming in her chair, and exhibiting other signs of impatience. “And now,” he said, “we come to the star recitation. What have you to offer, Miss Ickthorpe? You’ve been simply saturated with a theory all afternoon. Out with it.”

She compressed her lips, “You boys think you’re clever. You, too, Mr. Queen—you especially. . . . Oh, I’ll admit John and Walter have shown superficial traces of intelligence. . . .”

“Will you be explicit, Miss Ickthorpe?”

She tossed her head. “Very well. The watch had nothing to do with the crime at all!”

The boys gaped, and Ellery tapped his palms gently together. “Very good. I agree with you. Explain, please.”

Her brown eyes burned, and her cheeks were very pink. “Simple!” she said with a sniff. “Spargo had arrived from Chicago only two hours before his murder. He had been in Chicago for a week and a half. Then for a week and a half he had been living by Chicago time. And, since Chicago time is one hour earlier than New York time, it merely means that nobody set the hands back; that they were standing at 10:20 when he fell dead, because he’d neglected to set his watch ahead on arriving in New York this morning!”

Crane muttered something in his throat, and Burrows flushed a deep crimson. Ellery looked sad. “I’m afraid the laurels so far go to Miss Ickthorpe, gentlemen. That happens to be correct. Anything else?”

“Naturally. I know the murderer, and it isn’t Spargo’s wife or that outlandish mulatto maid,” she said exasperatingly. “Follow me. . . . Oh, this is so easy! . . . We all saw that the powder on Spargo’s dead face had been applied very smoothly. From the condition of his cheeks and the shaving things in the bathroom it was evident that he’d shaved just before being murdered. But how does a man apply powder after shaving? How do you powder your face, Mr. Queen?” she shot at him rather tenderly.

Ellery looked startled. “With my fingers, of course.” Crane and Burrows nodded.