The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(350)

                “Of course I mean the parlor clock. Did you wind it?”

                “O no, no, no, I would as soon think of touching gold or silver. But the young lady did, I’m sure, ma’am, for I heard it strike when she was setting of it.”

                Ah! If my nature had not been an undemonstrative one, and if I had not been bred to a strong sense of social distinctions, I might have betrayed my satisfaction at this announcement in a way that would have made this homely German woman start. As it was I sat stock-still, and even made her think I had not heard her. Venturing to rouse me a bit, she spoke again after a minute’s silence.

                “She might have been lonely, you know, ma’am; and the ticking of a clock is such company.”

                “Yes,” I answered with more than my accustomed vivacity, for she jumped as if I had struck her. “You have hit the nail on the head, Mrs. Boppert, and are a much smarter woman than I thought. But when did she wind the clock?”

                “At five o’clock, ma’am; just before I left the house.”

                “O, and did she know you were going?”

                “I think so, ma’am, for I called up, just before I put on my bonnet, that it was five o’clock and that I was going.”

                “O, you did. And did she answer back?”



                             “Yes, ma’am. I heard her step in the hall and then her voice. She asked if I was sure it was five, and I told her yes, because I had set the kitchen clock at twelve. She didn’t say any more, but just after that I heard the parlor clock begin to strike.”

                O, thought I, what cannot be got out of the most stupid and unwilling witness by patience and a judicious use of questions. To know that this clock was started after five o’clock, that is, after the hour at which the hands pointed when it fell, and that it was set correctly in starting, and so would give indisputable testimony of the hour when the shelves fell, were points of the greatest importance. I was so pleased I gave the woman another smile.

                Instantly she cried:

                “But you won’t say anything about it, will you, ma’am? They might make me pay for all the things that were broke.”

                My smile this time was not one of encouragement simply. But it might have been anything for all effect it had on her. The intricacies of the affair had disturbed her poor brain again, and all her powers of mind were given up to lament.

                “O,” she bemoaned, “I wish I had never seen her! My head wouldn’t ache so with the muddle of it. Why, ma’am, her husband said he came to the house at midnight with his wife! How could he when she was inside of it all the time. But then perhaps he said that, just as you did, to save me blame. But why should a gentleman like him do that?”

                “It isn’t worth while for you to bother your head about it,” I expostulated. “It is enough that my head aches over it.”

                I don’t suppose she understood me or tried to. Her wits had been sorely tried and my rather severe questioning had not tended to clear them. At all events she went on in another moment as if I had not spoken:

                “But what became of her pretty dress? I was never so astonished in my life as when I saw that dark skirt on her.”

                “She might have left her fine gown upstairs,” I ventured, not wishing to go into the niceties of evidence with this woman.