"How'd it happen?" he asked, as he came back from the instrument and leaned against a showcase containing much glittering silver. "Who did it—when—how?"
"I haven't the least idea," replied Darcy, turning away so as not to see the faces now pressed against both the front and side doors, each being locked from the inside. "I found her just as she is now, and called in the milkmen, who happened to be passing. I had come down to the store early to do a little repair job, and the first thing I saw was—her!"
"What time did it happen?"
"I don't even know that. All the clocks have stopped. I don't usually wind the watches that are left for repair, unless I'm regulating them, and I haven't any like that in now. The only thing going is that one watch.
"What one watch? I do hear something ticking," and the policeman looked at Darcy. "What watch?"
"The one—in her hand."
"Oh, I see! Hum! Well, we'll leave that for the county physician. He'll be here pretty soon I guess. They'll notify him from the precinct. Now how about last night—was there any row—any noise? Did you hear anything?"
"I didn't hear anything—much. There's always a lot of noise around here until after midnight—theaters and moving picture places let out about 11:30. I awoke once in the night. But I guess that doesn't matter."
"Anybody else in the house besides you?" and the policeman yawned—for he had gone out on dog-watch—and looked into the wet, shiny, drizzle-swept street.
"Only Sallie Page, the cook. I'll call her. There's Mrs. Darcy's maid—Jane Metson. But she went away yesterday afternoon and won't be back until about noon. It's past time Sallie was down to get breakfast. I'll call her—"