"Wait a minute," Jennison protested. "I wasn't on his lanai. I was on board the President Tyler, and everybody knows that ship didn't land its passengers until nine the following morning—"
"I'm coming to that," Greene told him. "Just now—by the way, what time is it?"
Jennison took from his pocket a watch on the end of a slender chain. "It's a quarter past nine."
"Ah, yes. Is that the watch you usually carry?"
"It is."
"Ever wear a wrist watch?"
Jennison hesitated. "Occasionally."
"Only occasionally." The prosecutor rose and came round his desk. "Let me see your left wrist, please."
Jennison held out his arm. It was tanned a deep brown, but on the wrist was etched in white the outline of a watch and its encircling strap.
Greene smiled. "Yes, you have worn a wrist watch—and you've worn it pretty constantly, from the look of things." He took a small object from his pocket and held it in front of Jennison. "This watch, perhaps?" Jennison regarded it stonily. "Ever see it before?" Greene asked. "No? Well, suppose we try it on, anyhow." He put the watch in position and fastened it. "I can't help noting, Harry," he continued, "that it fits rather neatly over that white outline on your wrist. And the prong of the buckle falls naturally into the most worn of the holes on the strap."