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TILL THE CLOCK STOPS
TILL THE CLOCK STOPS
1917 On a certain brilliant Spring morning in London's City the seed of the Story was lightly sown. Within the directors' room of the Aasvogel Syndicate, Manchester House, New Broad Street, was done and hidden away a deed, simple and commonplace, which in due season was fated to yield a weighty crop of consequences complex and extraordinary. At the table, pen in hand, sat a young man, slight of build, but of fresh complexion, and attractive, eager countenance, neither definitely fair nor definit
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
Despite its handsome and costly old furnishings, the room gave one a sense of space and comfort; its agreeable warmth was too equable to have been derived solely from the cheerful blaze in the veritable Adam's fireplace, which seemed to have provided the keynote to the general scheme of decoration. The great bay-window overlooked a long, gently sloping lawn, bounded on either side by shrubbery, trees, and hedges, terminated by shrubbery and hedges alone, the trees originally there having been lo
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
Within a few minutes the servant returned. "The gentlemen have gone, sir, and Monsoor Guidet is ready," he said, then looked hard at his master. The master appeared to rouse himself. "Tell Guidet to go ahead. He'll require your assistance, I expect. Stay!" He pointed to the diamonds. "Put them in the box, Caw." The man restored the glittering trays to their places with as much emotion as if they had contained samples of bird-seed. When he had let down the lid— "Your pardon, Mr. Craig, but won't
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
It was dusky in the room when Caw brought tea to his master. Fitful gleams from the fire touched the latter's face, which had grown haggard. The Green Box was open again. "Never mind the lights for the present," he said, as the servant's hand went to the switch. "Give me a cup of tea—nothing more—and sit down." He pointed to the chair recently occupied by the Frenchman. "I have something to say to you, Caw." As he placed the tea on the table Caw winced slightly. "Mr. Craig," he said imploringly,
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
In his home at Earl's Gate, Kensington, Mr. Lancaster had made an indifferent meal of an excellently cooked and temptingly served breakfast. He was feeling dejected, limp, and generally "seedy" after the two nights in the train. He and Bullard had occupied a double sleeping berth, and Bullard had persisted in discussing many things, and thereafter slumber had proved no match against a host of assaulting thoughts. Perhaps he might have made a better meal had he been left to himself, but ever sinc
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
Mrs. Lancaster would have accompanied her husband to the library, but for once, and despite the shock he had just suffered, he showed some firmness. "I will see Bullard alone," he said, and left her in the hall. He entered the library, closed and locked the door, and drew the heavy curtain across it. But there his spirit failed him, and he seemed to grope his way to his familiar chair. Without a word Bullard put the telegram into his hands. It had been sent off at 8 a.m., the hour of opening for
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
Next moment, his wits in action again, Bullard made for the table, closed the deep drawer, and threw himself on an easy chair, hissing at the gaping Lancaster, "Sit down, you fool!" Lancaster collapsed on the couch as Caw, bearing a salver with decanters, a syphon, and glasses, entered the room. "Your doors open quietly enough," remarked Bullard. "Yes, sir. Mr. Craig disliked unnecessary noise." He presented the salver to Lancaster, who mixed himself a brandy and soda with considerable splutter.
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
A week later Doris Lancaster was sitting alone by the drawing-room fire, a book on her lap. It was not so often that she had an evening to spend in quietness; one of her mother's great aims in life was to have "something on" at least six nights out of the seven. At the present moment Mrs. Lancaster was in her boudoir, accepting and sending out invitations for comparatively distant dates. Sweetly the clock on the mantel struck nine, and Doris told herself that now no one was likely to call. She l
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
Teddy was not afraid of Mrs. Lancaster, but he soon gathered that she had come to stay, and as the situation seemed to him difficult for Doris, he took his leave with assumed cheerfulness. In bidding the girl good-night he dropped in a whispered "to-morrow," which was, perhaps, more of a comfort to Doris than she would have admitted to herself. Immediately after his departure she expressed her intention of going to bed. "Just for a moment, Doris. Do sit down again. We must settle what you are go
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
When Teddy France, bidding Doris a formal goodnight, whispered "to-morrow" he had in mind a certain reception at the house of a mutual acquaintance, and he went home looking forward to meeting her there with hopes irrepressible. He felt that the girl he had loved for years was—if not with her whole heart—on the verge of surrender; would have been his by now but for the untimely entrance of Bullard and the succeeding intervention of Mrs. Lancaster; and he lived most of the night and the following
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
The same night Teddy France started on his quest, wishing with all his heart that it were cleaner work. Still a beginning had to be made. He had not the flimsiest clue to direct him, but the thought occurred to him that it might be worth while to attempt to learn in what manner Bullard spent some of his evenings. Bullard, he was aware, had of late been living at Bright's Hotel, a select and expensive establishment situated within hail of Bond Street. About eight o'clock Teddy sauntered across th
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
Dr. Handyside was too fond of his easy-going seaside existence to be readily induced to leave home. At the same time, he had not severed all ties with Glasgow, which ties included a select coterie of kindred spirits who dined together once a month during the winter in a somewhat old-fashioned restaurant; and he would have been exceedingly loth to miss one of their cosy gatherings. But he insisted on sleeping in his own bed, and accordingly, there being no steamer connection at so late an hour, i
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
Alan Craig, as he afterwards stated, had entered Grey House at a quarter before midnight; the clock had attracted his attention as soon as he lit the candles. The candles, he had noticed, had been used not long previously, for the wicks were softish, and he had been aware of an odour of tobacco, not stale, in the atmosphere of the study. These two little discoveries had been sufficient to end the incipient idea induced by the stillness and chilliness that the house might be temporarily uninhabit
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
By ten o'clock next morning Caw, who had risen at five, had Grey House in a fair state of comfort for the reception of its new master, if not its new owner. The producers of warmth and electricity were at work again; the elderly housekeeper, who in Christopher's time had never been upstairs, was recalled from a near village just when she was beginning to wonder whether, after all, perfect happiness was included in retirement with an ample annuity, in the garden a man was already reducing the mor
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
The unspeakable Marvel reached London shortly after seven p.m.,—nearly an hour late. A sleet storm had descended on the Metropolis. He took a four-wheeler to the City. It crawled, but he was glad of the time to rehearse once more the part he had decided to play, during the latter hours of the railway journey. Here was a desperate idea inspired by a desperate situation. A hundred other ideas had offered themselves only to be rejected. He shivered with more than cold, fingered the flask in his poc
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CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XV
It would have been beyond Teddy France to describe clearly his own feelings as he waited in the Lancasters' drawing-room late on the following afternoon. His dearest friend was alive; his dearest hope was dead. Yet how could he be otherwise than glad, if only on Doris's account? Early in the day he had sent her a note, express, begging her to be at home at five. This meant questionings and reproaches from Mrs. Lancaster, for she and her daughter had what she deemed a most important social engage
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CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVI
About four o'clock Bullard came into his private office full of ill-suppressed wrath. Lancaster, who had been waiting for him in fear and trembling, looked a mute enquiry. "Yes," said Bullard harshly, "I found the beast after losing all those precious hours, and I may tell you at once, he had nothing whatever to do with the disappearance of the Green Box from your cabinet. He accounted for all his doings after leaving Earl's Gate, and I was able to verify his story. He went straight to a filthy
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CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVII
The night was fine but still very dark. An hour or so hence the moon at its full would make many things visible, and chiefly for that reason but also because he desired to return to London the same night, Bullard with his unsavoury companion, had arrived thus early at the gates of Grey House. Yet now it looked as though his programme would have to be abandoned, or, at any rate, drastically altered. For the house, as was plain to see, was occupied. There was no great display of lights, but a rudd
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CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
"So that's my story up to date," said Alan, and took out his pipe. "And a very pretty story it is," returned Teddy, "if only there didn't need to be a sequel, old man. Of course, you can't possibly let the matter drop. I wouldn't myself." The two friends were seated in the study of Grey House. The November twilight was failing. Teddy had arrived early in the day, and since then they had spent few silent moments together. At the outset Teddy had forgotten all his troubles in the joy of the resume
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CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XIX
Bullard was still in Glasgow. The return of Alan Craig—for he had soon come to laugh at Marvel's story—had been a staggering blow. The will, by which he had reckoned to win, should all other means fail, was become a sheet of waste paper. Moreover, the "other means" were almost certainly rendered impracticable by the presence of Alan at Grey House. Those, however, were only his first thoughts. The car bearing him and the shivering Flitch from the scene of their success and consternation was not t
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CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XX
Morning brought a telegram from Monsieur Guidet, and a couple of hours later the little Frenchman arrived at Grey House in a sorry state of apprehension. The clock!—impossible that he could have failed in any way!—there must have been gross and deliberate ill-usage! … and many more words to the same effect. When he stopped for breath Caw assured him that there was nothing wrong with the clock and mentioned why and by whom the summons had been sent him. Whereupon Monsieur went frantic. "Stop the
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CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXII
As Bullard replaced the receiver, Flitch came slouching in. "Couldn't help bein' a bit late, mister," he remarked. "Fog's awful to-night. Got lost more'n once." "Fog that came out of a bottle, I suppose," said Bullard sarcastically. For an instant resentment flamed on the hairy countenance, but Flitch seemed to get it under control and answered nothing. There was a certain change in the man's appearance. His hair and beard were freshly trimmed, and he had a cleanlier look than we have hitherto n
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
The spiritual glow in which Alan left Earl's Gate had cooled considerably by the time he reached the Midland Hotel. It was not that he actually regretted his actions of an hour ago; rather was it as though an inward voice kept repeating, "Why aren't you happier, now that you have lifted a crushing load from an exhausted fellow-creature? Why aren't you in the seventh heaven since you are going to marry that most desirable girl?" There was never yet human exaltation without its reaction, but in Al
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CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXIV
Never a heavy sleeper, Mrs. Lancaster was fully aware of her daughter's entrance before Doris reached her bedside. She affected neither drowsiness nor ignorance of the latter's quest. "You ought not to have got up so early, Doris," she said. "Why, it's not eight yet. Not that light—the far away one, if you insist. Are you feeling better?" "Yes, I think so. I've had a long sleep." The girl's eyes were shining strangely, and the shadows beneath them were deep; but she did not look ill. "Father is
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CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXV
The inquest was over. A suggestion for an adjournment, half-heartedly expressed by one juryman, had been briefly discussed and withdrawn. Bullard had come through his ordeal without a spot of discredit. He looked pale and fagged, but what was more natural in the circumstances? A horrid experience it must have been, those present agreed, to behold a face and clutching hands fall away from a fourth-story window! And he was going to pay for a decent funeral for the abandoned wretch who might have m
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CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVI
So the two friends returned north, Teddy with a new secret in his heavy heart, Alan in a thoroughly unsettled state of mind. Alan's second meeting with Doris had certainly not been helpful to either. Doris, while almost assured as to her father's freedom, was at least dubious about her own, so much so that she gently but firmly refused to consider herself in any way engaged to Alan, and Alan, as any other honourable young man would have done in the circumstances, pleaded and argued. "You will ne
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CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVII
"I think that's everything, Caw. We shan't be much later than eleven. Don't forget that Mr. Harvie wants to catch the first steamer in the morning." Alan, in evening dress, was smoking a cigarette in the study pending the assembling of his guests in the drawing-room, all of whom had been bidden to dinner that evening by the hospitable Handyside. "Mr. Harvie shall be looked after, sir." Caw retired to the door, closed it and came back to the hearth. "May I ask you to cast your eye over this list,
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CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXVIII
"Curse that green stuff!" said Bullard under his breath. "I'd sooner handle a bunch of live wires." He was standing in front of the clock, in the glow of an overhanging lamp, the only one he had switched on on entering the firelit room. The pendulum in its callous swing fairly blazed. There was no sound save a half-stifled, irritating ticking. Bullard presented rather a curious, if not uncanny, spectacle then. His countenance was covered by a glass mask such as the chemist dons while preparing o
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CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXIX
A fortnight later, Caw, in his little sitting-room, was entertaining Monsieur Guidet to afternoon tea. The Frenchman had just completed the operation of replacing Christopher's clock with one of similar aspect minus the glamour and mystery of pendulum and fluid. "Monsoor," said Caw, "excuse my asking it again, but could you not have done what the bullet did?" "Perhaps, Mr. Caw, only perhaps. I am not so clever as Chance. The bullet, you see, came at the exact right instant to the exact right pla
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