“It sounded like a thunder-shower, sir. Dry one minute and pouring cats and dogs the next, I remember.”
“That might account for it, then. We proceed. I can see only one wound on him, so far as the front's concerned. No indication of robbery, since his raincoat was buttoned up and the jacket also. Help me to lift him up, inspector, so that we can get his arm free without scraping it about too much. If he wore a wrist-watch, it may have stopped conveniently when he fell, for he seems to have come rather a purler when he dropped.”
Armadale raised the left side of the body slightly, and Sir Clinton levered the twisted arm gently into a more normal position.
“You're right, sir,” the inspector exclaimed, pointing to the strap on the dead man's wrist. He bent forward as though to turn the hand of the body, but the chief constable stopped him with an imperative gesture.
“Gently, inspector, gently. We may need to be cautious.”
Very carefully he manœuvred the dead man's wrist until they could see the face of the watch.
“It's stopped at 11.19,” Armadale pointed out. “That gives us the moment when he fell, then. It doesn't seem of much use to us yet, though.”
Wendover detected a flaw in the inspector's assumption.
“Some people forget to wind up their watches now and again. Perhaps he did, the night before last; and it might have stopped of its own accord at 11.19, before he was shot at all.”
“Dear me, squire! This is a break-away from the classics with a vengeance. I thought it was always taken for granted that a watch stopped conveniently at the very moment of the murder. But perhaps you're right. We can always test it.”