“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.