“Yes sir,” he replied hastily, “well, I went over to the Dodge house, and I saw them finally.  Followed them into a jewelry shop.  That lawyer bought her a wrist watch.  So I bought one just like it.  I thought perhaps we could—­” “Give it to me,” growled Clutching Hand, seizing it the moment Slim displayed it.  “And don’t butt in—­see?”

From the capacious desk, the master criminal pulled a set of small drills, vices, and other jeweler’s tools and placed them on the table.

“All right,” he relented.  “Now, do you see what I have just thought of—­no?  This is just the chance.  Look at me.”

The heelers gathered around him, peering curiously at their master as he worked at the bracelet watch.

Carefully he plied his hands to the job, regardless of time.

“There,” he exclaimed at last, holding the watch up where they could all see it.  “See!”

He pulled out the stem to set the hands and slowly twisted it between his thumb and finger.  He turned the hands until they were almost at the point of three o’clock.

Then he held the watch out where all could see it.

They bent closer and strained their eyes at the little second hand ticking away merrily.

As the minute hand touched three, from the back of the case, as if from the casing itself, a little needle, perhaps a quarter of an inch, jumped out.  It seemed to come from what looked like merely a small inset in the decorations.

“You see what will happen at the hour of three?” he asked.

No one said a word, as he held up a vial which he had drawn from his pocket.  On it they could read the label, “Ricinus.”

“One of the most powerful poisons in the world!” he exclaimed.  “Enough here to kill a regiment!”

They fairly gasped and looked at it with horror, exchanging glances.  Then they looked at him in awe.  There was no wonder that Clutching Hand kept them in line, once he had a crook in his power.

Opening the vial carefully, he dipped in a thin piece of glass and placed a tiny drop in a receptacle back of the needle and on the needle itself.

Altogether it savored of the ancient days of the Borgias with their weird poisoned rings.

Then he dropped the vial back into his pocket, pressed a spring, and the needle went back into its unsuspected hiding place.

“I’ve set my invention to go off at three o’clock,” he concluded.  “Tomorrow forenoon, it will have to be delivered early—­and I don’t believe we shall be troubled any longer by Miss Elaine Dodge,” he added venomously.

Even the crooks, hardened as they were, could only gasp.

Calmly he wrapped up the apparently innocent engine of destruction and handed it to Spike.

“See that she gets it in time,” he said merely.

“I will, sir,” answered Spike, taking it gingerly.

Flirty Florrie had returned that afternoon, late, from some expedition on which she had been sent.