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you think that this–what’s-his-name Curry–brought those clocks with him?’
    ‘There’s no sign of a container anywhere,’ said Hardcastle. ‘He could hardly have brought four clocks in his pockets. Now Miss Pebmarsh, think very carefully. Is there any association in your mind, any suggestion you could possibly make about anything to do with clocks, or if not with clocks, say with time. 4.13. Thirteen minutes past four?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘I’ve been trying to say to myself that it is the work of a lunatic or that somebody came to the wrong house. But even that doesn’t really explain anything. No, Inspector, I can’t help you.’
    A young constable looked in. Hardcastle went to join him in the hall and from there went down to the gate. He spoke for a few minutes to the men.
    ‘You can take the young lady home now,’ he said, ‘14 Palmerston Road is the address.’
    He went back and into the dining-room. Through the open door to the kitchen he could hear Miss Pebmarsh busy at the sink. He stood in the doorway.
    ‘I shall want to take those clocks, Miss Pebmarsh. I’ll leave you a receipt for them.’
    ‘That will be quite all right, Inspector–they don’t belong to me–’
    Hardcastle turned to Sheila Webb.
    ‘You can go home now, Miss Webb. The police car will take you.’
    Sheila and Colin rose.
    ‘Just see her into the car, will you, Colin?’ said Hardcastle as he pulled a chair to the table and started to scribble a receipt.
    Colin and Sheila went out and started down the path. Sheila paused suddenly.
    ‘My gloves–I left them–’
    ‘I’ll get them.’
    ‘No–I know just where I put them. I don’t mind now–now that they’ve taken it away.’
    She ran back and rejoined him a moment or two later.
    ‘I’m sorry I was so silly–before.’
    ‘Anybody would have been,’ said Colin.
    Hardcastle joined them as Sheila entered the car. Then, as it drove away, he turned to the young constable.
    ‘I want those clocks in the sitting-room packed up carefully–all except the cuckoo clock on the wall and the big grandfather clock.’
    He gave a few more directions and then turned to his friend.
    ‘I’m going places. Want to come?’
    ‘Suits me,’ said Colin.?

The Clocks

CHAPTER 4
    Colin Lamb’s Narrative
    ‘Where do we go?’ I asked Dick Hardcastle.
    He spoke to the driver.
    ‘Cavendish Secretarial Bureau. It’s on Palace Street, up towards the Esplanade on the right.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    The car drew away. There was quite a little crowd by now, staring with fascinated interest. The orange cat was still sitting on the gate post of Diana Lodge next door. He was no longer washing his face but was sitting up very straight, lashing his tail slightly, and gazing over the heads of the crowd with that complete disdain for the human race that is the special prerogative of cats and camels.
    ‘The Secretarial Bureau, and then the cleaning woman, in that order,’ said Hardcastle, ‘because the time is getting on.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘After four o’clock.’ He paused before adding, ‘Rather an attractive girl?’
    ‘Quite,’ I said.
    He cast an amused look in my direction.
    ‘But she told a very remarkable story. The sooner it’s checked up on, the better.’
    ‘You don’t think that she–’
    He cut me short.
    ‘I’m always interested in people who find bodies.’
    ‘But that girl was half mad with fright! If you had heard the way she was screaming... ’
    He gave me another of his quizzical looks and repeated that she was a very attractive girl.
    ‘And how did you come to be wandering about in Wilbraham Crescent, Colin? Admiring our genteel Victorian architecture? Or had you a purpose?’
    ‘I had a purpose. I was looking for Number 61–and I couldn’t find it. Possibly it doesn’t exist?’
    ‘It exists all right. The numbers go up to–88, I think.’
    ‘But look here, Dick, when I came to Number 28, Wilbraham Crescent just petered out.’
    ‘It’s