“Nice going,” Mason said approvingly. “Have you made any experiments to find out how long it takes the alarm clock to run down after it’s wound up?”
“I wired the factory,” the sheriff said. “They say from around thirty to thirty-six hours, depending on the condition of the clock and how long it’s been used.
“Now, here’s another thing, Mr. Mason. Whoever killed Sabin was a kindhearted, considerate sort of a guy. Anyway, that’s the way I figure it.”
He tilted back his hat and scratched the thick hair back of his ears in a characteristic gesture. “Now, you may think it sounds kind of funny for a man to say that about a murderer, but that’s the way I figure it just the same. This man had something against Sabin. He wanted to kill him, but he didn’t want to kill the parrot. He figured it was apt to be some time before Sabin’s body was discovered, and he arranged so the parrot wouldn’t starve to death in the meantime.
“Now that makes it look as though the murderer had some powerful reason for wanting Sabin out of the way. It wasn’t robbery and it wasn’t just sheer cussedness. The murderer was kindhearted... if you get what I mean.”
“I think I do,” Mason said with a smile. “And thank you very much, Sheriff. I won’t intrude on you and Sergeant Holcomb longer. I think I understand the situation. I’ll walk around the outside of the cabin a couple of times and give it the once-over. I certainly appreciate your courtesy and...”
He broke off as someone knocked on the cabin door.
Sheriff Barnes opened the door. A blond, studious-appearing young man in the early thirties peered owlishly from behind horn-rimmed spectacles. “Sheriff Barnes?” he inquired.
“You’re Waid?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes.”