“Yes, sir. Griscom missed ’em. He says they ain’t gone to the cleaner’s or anything like that, for they’re both nearly new. And he says he knows they were in their right place yesterday morning, sir.” “Well,” Hart said, “we can’t complain of any lack of curious complications. This seems to prove a man did the deed. A woman surely would not take fancy waistcoats!” “And why should a man take them, either?” Moore asked, but none of us could answer. CHAPTER VI THE WATCH IN THE WATER PITCHER “Well, Sally, is that all?” “No, sir, not quite. Griscom found one more queer thing. He found Mr. Tracy’s watch in the water pitcher.” “In the water pitcher!” Farrell exclaimed. “Was there water in the pitcher?” “Oh, yes, sir, it was nearly full. And down at the bottom of it was the watch.” “How extraordinary. Is the watch going?” “I don’t know, sir. Griscom took it out of the pitcher, but I don’t know what he did with it.” “Well, we’ll see about it. If you’ve no more astonishing bits of information, you can run along, Sally.” The girl left the room, and we looked at one another, half smiling, half appalled. “It’s all so tawdry,” Keeley Moore said, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders. “Just what meaning do you attach to the word ‘tawdry’?” asked Hart. “I can’t seem to make it apply at all.” “Oh, I only mean these foolish clues that some practical joker has arranged are tawdry of intent. I may be obliged to change my mind, but just at present, I can’t think that the person who killed Sampson Tracy is the person who stuck the feather duster behind his head and dropped his watch in the water pitcher. By the way, why did he have a water pitcher, with an elaborate bathroom at hand?” “Call Griscom, let’s find out a little more about it.” So the butler came at a summons, and explained that the water pitcher was a pitcher of drinking water that was placed on a table for him every night. “Mr. Tracy didn’t approve of thermos bottles,” Griscom informed us. “He said they never seemed clean things to him. So he had a pitcher.” “When you found the watch, was it running?” “No, sir, it was not.” “At what time had it stopped?” Inspector Farrell awaited the answer with an air of one expecting a piece of important information. But he was disappointed. “I didn’t exactly notice, sir, but it isn’t the watch Mr. Tracy was carrying. That is still under his pillow. This watch I found in the pitcher is an old one, and it was lying on his dressing table last night.” “Why was it there?” “Mr. Tracy had it out, looking at it a day or two ago. He thought he would send it to a jeweller and have it put in order. The mainspring is broken, you see. But he didn’t decide, and the watch lay there, in a little tray, with some other odds and ends of jewellery.” “Then, somebody took that watch and deliberately dropped it into the water pitcher?” “That must be the truth, sir.”