“It’s no good for anything else,” said Whitmarsh practically. “A famous time-keeper it was, too.”
“The fingers are both gone.”
“Yes; the glass was broken, of course, and they must have caught in the cloth of my pocket and ripped off.”
“They naturally would; it was ten minutes past nine when the shot was fired.”
The young man thought and then nodded.
“About that,” he agreed.
“Nearer than ‘about,’ if your watch was correct. Very interesting, Mr Whitmarsh. I am glad to have seen the watch that saved your life.”
Instead of returning to the inn Carrados directed Parkinson to take the road to Barony. Madeline was at home, and from the sound of voices it appeared that she had other visitors, but she came out to Carrados at once, and at his request took him into the empty dining-room while Parkinson stayed in the hall.
“Yes?” she said eagerly.
“I have come to tell you that I must throw up my brief,” he said. “There is nothing more to be done and I return to town to-night.”