“Oh, yes.”
“Well, go on with your story.”
“It was very warm last night, if you remember. I recall that when I arrived at the Fells the combination of wine and half a mile walk had heated me considerably, and I seated myself in one of the piazza chairs to cool off. Now I cannot tell you whether I sat there one minute or half an hour, for I don’t know; I only know that it could not have been more than half an hour, because the train I rode out on is due at the Fells at one-fifteen, my walk from the station to the house must have consumed a quarter of an hour, which would bring the time up to two o’clock, and my watch is stopped at two-thirty.”
“What has the stopping of your watch got to do with it?”
“Only this: That I cannot start it. Something inside it is broken, and I argue that I must have broken it while winding the watch.”
“Well?”
“Drunk or sober, I have always been in the habit of winding my watch the last thing before removing my waistcoat, and never at any other time.”
“So you think that you stopped your watch by breaking it while winding it the last thing before going to bed?”
“Yes; only I didn’t go to bed. In fact, I didn’t make any preparation to do so, more than to remove my coat and vest. But I am getting ahead of my story.”
“Tell it in your own way.”