“That’s a queer thing, too,” he returned. “Some heavy mallet or hammer must have been used. True, it could have been driven by some other hard or heavy object, but I see nothing indicative about. No bronze book-ends or iron doorstop.” We scanned the room, but saw no implement that would act as a hammer. “I think I may say,” Keeley went on, “that never have I seen a case with so many bizarre points. To be sure they may be all faked in an attempt to bewilder and mislead the investigators, but even so, such a number of clues, whether real or spurious, ought to lead somewhere.” “They will,” I assured him. “Where are you going to begin?” “I don’t know where I shall begin, but I shall end up with the watch in the water pitcher. That, you will find, will be the bright star in this galaxy of clues.” “Just as a favour, Kee, do tell me why you stress that so. Why is that silly act more illuminating than the other queernesses?” “No, Gray, I won’t tell you that now. Not that I want to be mysterious, but that may be my trump card, and I don’t want to expose it prematurely. You’d know yourself if you’d ever studied medical works.” “Medical works! I can’t see any therapeutic value in the incident. Is it voodoo, or a medicine-man stunt?” Griscom came into the room just then, and Moore asked him again as to the watch. But we gained no new knowledge. The watch had been lying on a small jewel tray on the dresser. The water pitcher had been on a near-by table. It seemed, like all the rest of the inexplicable circumstances, a mere bit of wanton mischief. “Why do you look so worried, Griscom?” Kee said, eying the man closely. “I am worried, sir. About them weskits.” “Oh, pshaw, they’re of small consequence compared to the graver questions we have to face.” “Yes, sir, but it’s queer. Now, I know those two weskits were in their right place Wednesday morning. And Miss Alma said the master gave ’em to her of a Tuesday afternoon.” “Oh, she just mistook the day,” I said, hastily, anxious to keep her name out of the discussion. But Moore was interested at once. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Perfectly sure,” the man replied. “Miss Alma was here Tuesday afternoon and the master may have given her the weskits then, but she didn’t carry them home, for they were here Wednesday morning.” “One of you must be mistaken as to the day,” I repeated. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway.” “Oh, keep still, Gray,” Kee said, impatiently. “What about the Totem Pole, Griscom? Was that here Wednesday morning?” “I don’t know for certain——” He looked perplexed. “Of course you don’t,” I broke in, irrepressibly. “You can’t remember exactly incidents that made no real impression on you at the time. Nobody can. And don’t try to be positive about these things when you’ve really only a vague recollection.” “No, sir,” Griscom said, speaking deferentially enough, but I caught a slight gleam of obstinacy in his eye.