“Sit down, everybody!” he commanded. “Mr. Vail, I said, _sit down_! This case has taken a different turn. Let nobody leave the room. Whitcomb,” to the constable, “stand at the door. Now then, we’ll tackle all this from another angle. The time for kid glove questioning is past.” He eyed them sternly, his gaze focusing last on Thaxton Vail. Then, as silence was restored, he picked up the watch and held it toward the blinkingly wondering Clive. CHAPTER IX A LIE OR TWO “Mr. Creede,” said he, “look carefully at this watch. Do you recognize it?” “Of course I do,” replied Clive. “It’s mine. How did--?” “This watch, Mr. Creede,” said the chief, slowly, “has just been turned over to me by your brother.” “My brother?” asked Clive, surprised. As he spoke his eyes searched the room, peering into the farther shadows in quest of Osmun. “He has gone,” said the chief, reading the glance. “But before he went he pulled this watch out of the vest pocket of--Mr. Thaxton Vail. You admit it is yours. The watch that was stolen from your room this evening. Therefore--” “Clive!” broke in Vail. “You know me well enough to--” “Mr. Vail,” interrupted the chief, “it is my duty to warn you that anything you say may be used against you. Now, then, Mr. Creede: You have identified this watch as the one stolen from you. It was taken from Mr. Vail’s pocket in the presence of all of us. You can swear to the identification?” “Hold on, please!” said Clive. “You’re barking industriously, Chief. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. That isn’t the watch I lost.” “You said it was!” accused the chief. “You said--” “I said nothing of the sort,” denied Clive. “You asked me if I recognized the watch. And I said I did and that it was mine. I didn’t say it was the one that was stolen to-night. And it isn’t.” The house guests--to whom the Argyle watch was a familiar object--gasped. Thaxton Vail made as though to speak in quick disclaimer. But Clive’s tired voice droned on as he met Quimby’s suspicious eyes fairly and calmly. “This watch is mine. It belonged to my father. It was one he had made the year before he died, with the Argyle watch as a model. And a very poor bit of work it was. For it has scarcely a look of the original. Last week at my Rackrent Farm house Mr. Vail dropped his repeater-watch and broke its mainspring. He sent it to New York to be mended. And I lent him this second watch of mine to carry till his own comes back. That’s what I meant just now when I said I recognized the watch and that it is mine.” “Clive!” sputtered Vail. “You’re--” “If my brother snatched this watch out of Mr. Vail’s pocket,” finished Clive, heedless of the interruption and with his eyes still holding the chief’s, “then he did a mighty impertinent thing and one for which I apologize, in his name, to my host. That’s all, Chief. The Argyle watch is still missing.”