“I never realized there was much to a bell besides its ding-dong,” commented Penny. “But tell me, Mr. McGuire, do you find this work more interesting than taking care of the Clock Tower?”
“Looking after that place wasn’t work. It was more like a rest cure. I took the job because, twelve years ago when the tower went up, they couldn’t find a competent man to look after the clock.”
“And now you’ve gone back to your old trade?”
“Oh, I liked it at the tower,” Old Seth admitted truthfully. “I’m a bit old to do heavy work such as this. More than likely I’d have gone on putting in my time if Mr. Blake hadn’t wanted the job for a friend of his.”
“Mr. Blake?” Penny inquired thoughtfully. “Do you mean Clyde Blake, the real estate man?”
The old bell maker nodded as he gazed moodily out the window toward the distant tower which could be seen outlined against the blue sky.
“Yes, it was Blake that eased me out of that job. He has a lot of influence and he uses it in ways some might say isn’t always proper. I can make a fair living as long as I have my health, so I’m not complaining.”
“We met the new caretaker this morning,” Penny said after a moment. “He wasn’t very polite to us, and the grounds have gone to wrack and ruin.”
“Did you notice the flower beds?” Old Seth asked, feeling creeping into his voice. “Half choked with weeds. Charley Phelps hasn’t turned a hand since he took over there six weeks ago.”
“I suppose he spends most of his time looking after the big clock,” Penny remarked, deliberately leading the old man deeper.