window--the solemn-ticking clock by which many passersby set their
watches. "The other clocks--"

"And they've all stopped at different times!" added Tremlain. "That's
funny, too."

If anything could be funny in that place of death, this fact might be.
And it was a fact. Of the many clocks in the store not one was
ticking, and all pointed to different hours. The big regulator
indicated 10:22; a chronometer in a showcase was five hours and some
minutes ahead of that. The clock over Darcy's work table noted the
hour of 7:56. Some cheaper clocks, alarms among them, on the shelves,
which were usually going, showed various hours.

They had all stopped. Only the watch in the dead woman's hand was
ticking, and that showed approximately the right time--a little after
six o'clock.

"Well, we've got to get the police," said Casey. "Then I've got to
travel on--customers waiting for me."

"You--you won't leave me here alone--will you?" asked Darcy.

"Isn't there any one else in the house?" asked Tremlain, for the
living-rooms were above the jewelry store--a substantial brown stone
building of the style of three decades ago.

"Only Sallie Page, the cook. She's deaf, and she'll be more of a
nuisance than a help. Mrs. Darcy's maid won't be in until noon. I
don't want to be left--"