“Certainly. My watch fell at five minutes after nine. When it was all over, and I picked it up, it was still going, and it was 9:30.”
He was silent for a moment. Then:
“The Wellses’ nursery governess telephoned for me at 9:35. We keep a record of the time of all calls.”
Sperry is a heart specialist, I think I have said, with offices in his house.
And, a block or so farther on: “I suppose it was bound to come. To tell the truth, I didn’t think the boy had the courage.”
“Then you think he did it?”
“They say so,” he said grimly. And added,—irritably: “Good heavens, Horace, we must keep that other fool thing out of our minds.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “We must.”
Although the Wells house was brilliantly lighted when we reached it, we had difficulty in gaining admission. Whoever were in the house were up-stairs, and the bell evidently rang in the deserted kitchen or a neighboring pantry.
“We might try the servants’ entrance,” Sperry said. Then he laughed mirthlessly.