“Ah, it’s getting late; I can’t stay any longer.”
My eye fell upon the watch, as it had evidently been intended that it should, and almost with the first glance I noticed a deep nick in the edge of the case, at the back. Possibly the man’s own words had taken my mind back to the lost watch of the murdered tailor and its description, but certainly the moment I saw the mark on the case I put out my hand with affected carelessness, as he was slipping it back to his pocket, saying—
“That’s a nice watch; let’s have a look at it.”
It was tendered at once, and I found it to have a white china dial and black figures. At last I came back to the nick and scrutinised it closely.
“You’ve given it a bash there,” I remarked, after a pause.
“No, that was done when I got it.”
“Bought it lately?”
“Oh, no; a long time ago.”
“Who from?”
“From one of the men working under me; I got it a great bargain,” he answered with animation. “It’s a chronometer, and belonged to an uncle of his, but it was out of order—had lain in the bottom of a sea chest till some of the works were rusty—and so I got it cheap.”