"Probably salesman's orders," said Rampole. "He told me he was in the publishing business. Anything else?"
"A number of cards. 'The Freedom Club, 65 West 51st St.' All clubs of some sort; dozens of them. 'Valhalla Cordial Shop, We Deliver, 342 Bleecker-' “
"That's all right," said Rampole. "I understand."
"That finishes the wallet, and the clothes, too. Wait! By Jove! here's his watch in his watch-pocket. And still running. His body broke the force of the fall, and the watch-''
"Let me look at that," Dr. Fell interposed, suddenly. He tamed over the thin gold watch, whose ticking was loud in the quiet room. "In the stories," he added, "the dead man's watch is always very conveniently smashed, thus enabling the detectives to fix the wrong time of death because the murderer has set the hands at a different hour. Behold an exception from life."
"So I see," replied the chief constable. "But why are you so interested? In this case, the time of death isn't at all important."
"Oh, yes it is!" said Dr. Fell. "More important than you think. Er — at present this watch says five-and-twenty minutes past ten." He peered up at the clock on the mantelpiece. "That clock also says five-and-twenty minutes past ten, to the second…. Budge, do you happen to know whether that clock is right?"
Budge inclined his head. "Yes, sir. It is right. I can answer positively about that score, sir."
The doctor hesitated, peering sharply at the butler, and then put the watch down.
"You look confoundedly earnest, man," he said. "Why are you so positive?"