le way.

"Oh, I see! Darcy's! She's killed you say?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Accident?"

"I don't know. Looks to me more like murder!"

The milkman whistled, set his collection of bottles back in his wagon,
and hurried with Darcy toward the store. The other man, bringing his
rattling vehicle to a stop, followed.

"Where is she?" whispered Casey, as soon as he reached the side of his
business rival, Tremlain.

"On the floor--right in the middle--between the showcases," answered
Darcy, and he, too, whispered. It seemed the right thing to do.
"There--see her!"

He pointed a trembling finger.

"Lord! Her head's smashed!" exclaimed Casey. "Look at the blood!"

"I--I don't want to look at it," murmured Darcy, faintly.

"Hark!" cautioned Tremlain. "What's that noise?"

They all listened--they all heard it.

"It's a watch ticking," answered Darcy. "First I thought it was her
heart beating--it sounded so. But it's only a watch."

"Maybe so," assented Casey. "We'd better make sure before we telephone
for the police. She may only have fallen and cut her head."

"You--you go and see," suggested Tremlain. "I--I don't like to go near
her--I never could bear the sight of dead folks--not even my own
father. You look!"

Casey hesitated a moment, and then stepped closer to the body. He
leaned over it and put the backs of his hard fingers on the white,
wrinkled and shrunken cheeks. They were cold and wax-like to his touch.

"She's dead," he whispered softly. "Better get the police right away."

"Murdered?" asked Tremlain, who had remained beside Darcy near the
showcase where the silver gleamed.

"I don't know. Her head's cut bad, though there's not so much blood as
I thought at first. We mustn't touch the body--that's the law. Got to
leave it until the coroner sees it. Where's the telephone?"

"Right back here," answered Darcy eagerly. "Police headquarters number
is--"

"I know it," interrupted Casey. "I had to call 'em up once when I had
a horse stole. I'll get 'em. What's that watch ticking?" he asked,
pausing. "Oh, it's in her hand!" and the other two looked and saw,
clasped close in the palm of the woman lying huddled on the floor, a
watch of uncommon design. It was ticking loudly.

"What makes it sound so plain?" asked Tremlain.

"Cause it's so quiet in here," answered Casey. "It'll be noisy enough
later on, though! But it's so quiet--that's what makes the ticking of
the watch so