Sorrowfully enough Colonel Ashley told how it had happened, showing the poisoned watch, but not disclosing the fact that it was the one which had figured in the deaths of Mrs. Darcy and Shere Ali.  And as nothing had yet been made public to the effect that the watch, which had had a part in both cases, was more than an ordinary timepiece Mr. Bland did not connect it with these two deaths.  Colonel Ashley let it be understood that the watch was a curiosity having to do with some case he was investigating.

“And if I had even dreamed that your dog would take it off the stool to worry it, as he might a bone, I’d never have let him in here,” said the detective.  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Mr. Bland, for I loved Chet almost as much as you did.”

“I know—­I know!  And he liked you.  Poor little dog!  Poor little dog!”

Tenderly they bore him out, the colonel insisting that no one touch him with ungloved hands, and a little later Chet was quietly buried.

“But what are you going to do about that watch—­and all that it means?” asked Jack Young, later, when he was about to depart to take up the shadowing of Harry King.

“I’m going to see how it’s made and try to learn whether or not Darcy was aware of its deadly nature.  If he was—­”

The colonel did not finish.

“Well, I’ll get on my way,” said Jack, after a pause.  “I’ll keep in touch with you, in case you need me.”

“And don’t lose sight of Harry King,” was the parting admonition.  “Something just as unexpected as this may turn up in his case,” and the colonel motioned to the watch.

Left to himself, the detective looked at the timepiece on his table, now silent in its tissue wrapping.  The needle, which under the magnifying glass was shown to be hollow, probably drawing the poison from some receptacle inside the case, had slipped back out of sight when the pressure was removed from the rim.

“The watch of death!” mused the colonel.  “I must see how you are made inside, and I think I’d better have a professional perform an autopsy on you.  I’ll send for Kettridge.  He knows all about watches, though I question if he ever saw one like this.”

The colonel was about to use his telephone when it rang and, answering it, he was told that another visitor wished to see him.

“Who is it?” he asked the clerk downstairs.

“Mr. Aaron Grafton.”

“Send him up.”

Grafton was plainly nervous as he entered the room; and the colonel, had he not been a man of experience, might have allowed this nervousness to influence his judgment, and bring into too much prominence the first suspicions the detective had felt regarding this man.

“Ah, Mr. Grafton, you wish to see me?”

“Only for a moment, Colonel Ashley.  I don’t like to call on you thus openly, for it might give rise to all sorts of questions, but—­”

“Oh, don’t let that worry you.  I’m a detective, and known as such now.  And you, as the owner of a large department store, where shop-lifting and other crimes may be committed any day, are often in need of the services of detectives, I should say.”