"You see, Amos was not a friend of his brother, either," explained Miss Minerva. "There was an old feud between them. Speaking for myself, I never heard Dan mention Egan, and he certainly never came to the house while I was here."
Hallet nodded. "Well, you left at eight-thirty. Now tell us where you went and when you got back. And all about the wrist watch."
Miss Minerva rapidly sketched her evening at the luau. She described her return to Dan's living-room, her adventure in the dark—the luminous dial that waited for her to pass.
"I wish you'd seen more," Hallet complained. "Too many people wear wrist watches."
"Probably not many," said Miss Minerva, "wear a wrist watch like that one."
"Oh. It had some distinguishing mark?"
"It certainly did. The numerals were illuminated, and stood out clearly—with an exception. The figure 2 was very dim—practically obliterated."
He looked at her admiringly. "Well, you certainly had your wits about you."
"That's a habit I formed early in life," replied Miss Minerva. "And old habits are hard to break."
He smiled, and asked her to continue. She told of rousing the two servants and, finally, of the gruesome discovery on the lanai.