und so plain."

"It is quiet," observed Tremlain. "But in a jewelry store there's
always a lot of clocks making a noise and--Say!" he suddenly cried,
"there's not a clock in this place ticking--notice that? Not a clock
ticking! They've all stopped!"

"You're right!" exclaimed Casey. "The watch is the only thing going in
the whole place!"

The milkmen looked quickly at Darcy.

"Yes, the clocks have all stopped," he said, wetting his lips with his
tongue. "I didn't notice it before, though I did hear the watch in her
hand ticking--I thought it was her heart beating--I guess I said that
before--I don't know what I am saying. This has upset me frightfully."

"I should think it would," agreed Casey. "Funny thing about the clocks
all stopping, though. S'pose they all ran down at once?"

"They couldn't," Darcy answered, "I wound the regulator only
yesterday," and he pointed to the tall timepiece in the show
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--"

"Oh, you won't be alone long," observed Casey. "The police will be
here as soon as we send 'em word. And here's a crowd outside already."

There was one--made up of men and boys with, here and there, a factory
girl on h