pulling all their legs good and hard. He would have sworn there was a gleam of amusement under those brows. Johannus peered round to make sure they were not overheard.
“To tell you the truth, I think he was,” he admitted, doubtfully. “But, so long as they didn’t disturb the neighbours and made no noise, they certainly didn’t disturb me.”
“Hell’s fire !” said Hadley, under his breath. “Is that all the explanation you have to offer?”
“Mrs. Steffins has her reasons,” explained Carver, nodding sagely. “Donald is a very pleasant young man, with an intelligent interest in my profession, but (to be candid) he is stony broke. So Mrs. Steffins says; and he is studying law, so I have no reason to doubt it. However, I make it a rule never to interfere in disputes between women. No matter whose side you take, each is convinced that you must be wrong. Hum. I am for a quiet life … However. What has this to do with the—the unfortunate demise?”
“I don’t know. And I must be rather flustered,” growled Hadley, “when a witness has to correct me. I want facts . Come on. Let’s get to this room.”
Carver led them across the hall, and showed a disposition to linger; but Hadley was curt. It was a spacious room in the same white panelling, with the curvilinear shield-back chairs of Heppelwhite, and a broad fireplace in which embers still smouldered. Above the mantelpiece hung framed a faded print of a man with long hair curling to his broad linen collar, possessing that greyish ethereal look which seventeenth-century artists could give to the fattest men, and inscribed round the margin: “Wm. Bowyer, Esq., through whose Efforts was Founded ye Royal Company of Clockmakers, Anno Dom. 1631.” In glass cases along the line of windows were curious objects. One was a discoloured metal shell like a bowl, pierced with a hole in the centre; another a tall bracket bearing on one arm a floating-wick lamp, just opposite a cylindrical glass upright down whose side ran a board notched in Roman numerals from 3 to 12, from 12 to 8; finally, a heavy open clock behind whose dial and single hand hung a hollow brass cylinder on a chain, the dial inscribed, “John Banks of ye towne Chester, Anno Dom. 1682.” While Hadley threw his briefcase on the table and sat down, Dr. Fell stumped across to peer at these. Dr. Fell whistled.
“I say, Hadley, he’s got some rarities here. It’s a wonder the Guildhall hasn’t snaffled ’em. These are landmarks in the development of the clepsydra, the water-clock. The first pendulum clock, and you know, wasn’t built in England until 1640. And, unless I’m much mistaken, this bowl is a Brahmin device somewhat older than Christian civilization. It worked—” He turned round, the black ribbon on his eyeglasses swinging aggressively, and added: “Oh, and don’t say I’m merely lecturing, either. I dare say you noticed poor Ames was stabbed with the hand of a clock?—You didn’t?”
Hadley, who had been fumbling in his briefcase, threw two long envelopes on the table. He said: “So that’s what it was? I couldn’t make out—” and sat staring dully at the fireplace. “But the hand of a clock, man!” he snapped, making a wild gesture. “Are you sure of that? It’s fantastic! In the name of all unreason, why the hand of a clock? who would ever think of using a thing like that to kill anybody?”
“This murderer would,” said Dr. Fell. “That’s why it rather scares me. You’re quite right. The ordinary person, flying into a rage, seldom thinks of wrenching off the hand of a clock for a weapon, like a little dagger all ready to hand. But somebody in this house looked at the stable clock Carver was making …” Rapidly he told Hadley of the theft. “Somebody with a brilliantly devilish imagination saw it as a literal symbol of time moving to the grave. There’s something unholy in the very thought that he couldn’t even look at an object he must have seen a
“To tell you the truth, I think he was,” he admitted, doubtfully. “But, so long as they didn’t disturb the neighbours and made no noise, they certainly didn’t disturb me.”
“Hell’s fire !” said Hadley, under his breath. “Is that all the explanation you have to offer?”
“Mrs. Steffins has her reasons,” explained Carver, nodding sagely. “Donald is a very pleasant young man, with an intelligent interest in my profession, but (to be candid) he is stony broke. So Mrs. Steffins says; and he is studying law, so I have no reason to doubt it. However, I make it a rule never to interfere in disputes between women. No matter whose side you take, each is convinced that you must be wrong. Hum. I am for a quiet life … However. What has this to do with the—the unfortunate demise?”
“I don’t know. And I must be rather flustered,” growled Hadley, “when a witness has to correct me. I want facts . Come on. Let’s get to this room.”
Carver led them across the hall, and showed a disposition to linger; but Hadley was curt. It was a spacious room in the same white panelling, with the curvilinear shield-back chairs of Heppelwhite, and a broad fireplace in which embers still smouldered. Above the mantelpiece hung framed a faded print of a man with long hair curling to his broad linen collar, possessing that greyish ethereal look which seventeenth-century artists could give to the fattest men, and inscribed round the margin: “Wm. Bowyer, Esq., through whose Efforts was Founded ye Royal Company of Clockmakers, Anno Dom. 1631.” In glass cases along the line of windows were curious objects. One was a discoloured metal shell like a bowl, pierced with a hole in the centre; another a tall bracket bearing on one arm a floating-wick lamp, just opposite a cylindrical glass upright down whose side ran a board notched in Roman numerals from 3 to 12, from 12 to 8; finally, a heavy open clock behind whose dial and single hand hung a hollow brass cylinder on a chain, the dial inscribed, “John Banks of ye towne Chester, Anno Dom. 1682.” While Hadley threw his briefcase on the table and sat down, Dr. Fell stumped across to peer at these. Dr. Fell whistled.
“I say, Hadley, he’s got some rarities here. It’s a wonder the Guildhall hasn’t snaffled ’em. These are landmarks in the development of the clepsydra, the water-clock. The first pendulum clock, and you know, wasn’t built in England until 1640. And, unless I’m much mistaken, this bowl is a Brahmin device somewhat older than Christian civilization. It worked—” He turned round, the black ribbon on his eyeglasses swinging aggressively, and added: “Oh, and don’t say I’m merely lecturing, either. I dare say you noticed poor Ames was stabbed with the hand of a clock?—You didn’t?”
Hadley, who had been fumbling in his briefcase, threw two long envelopes on the table. He said: “So that’s what it was? I couldn’t make out—” and sat staring dully at the fireplace. “But the hand of a clock, man!” he snapped, making a wild gesture. “Are you sure of that? It’s fantastic! In the name of all unreason, why the hand of a clock? who would ever think of using a thing like that to kill anybody?”
“This murderer would,” said Dr. Fell. “That’s why it rather scares me. You’re quite right. The ordinary person, flying into a rage, seldom thinks of wrenching off the hand of a clock for a weapon, like a little dagger all ready to hand. But somebody in this house looked at the stable clock Carver was making …” Rapidly he told Hadley of the theft. “Somebody with a brilliantly devilish imagination saw it as a literal symbol of time moving to the grave. There’s something unholy in the very thought that he couldn’t even look at an object he must have seen a
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