Three
Hardcastle stared.
“Oh come, Miss Pebmarsh. What about that beautiful Dresden china clock on the mantelpiece?
And a small French clock—ormolu. And a silver carriage clock, and—oh yes, the clock with‘Rosemary’ across the corner.”
It was Miss Pebmarsh’s turn to stare.
“Either you or I must be mad, Inspector¹. I assure you I have no Dresden china clock, no—whatdid you say—clock with ‘Rosemary’ across it—no French ormolu clock and—what was the otherone?”
“Silver carriage clock,” said Hardcastle mechanically.
“Not that either. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the woman who comes to clean for me.
Her name is Mrs. Curtin.”
Detective Inspector Hardcastle was taken aback. There was a positive assurance, a briskness² inMiss Pebmarsh’s tone that carried conviction. He took a moment or two turning over things in hismind. Then he rose to his feet.
“I wonder, Miss Pebmarsh, if you would mind accompanying me into the next room?”
“Certainly. Frankly³, I would like to see those clocks myself.”
“See?” Hardcastle was quick to query⁴ the word.
“Examine would be a better word,” said Miss Pebmarsh, “but even blind people, Inspector, useconventional modes of speech that do not exactly apply to their own powers. When I say I wouldlike to see those clocks, I mean I would like to examine and feel them with my own fingers.”
Followed by Miss Pebmarsh, Hardcastle went out of the kitchen, crossed the small hall and intothe sitting room. The fingerprint⁶ man looked up at him.
“I’ve about finished in here, sir,” he said. “You can touch anything you like.”
Hardcastle nodded and picked up the small travelling clock with “Rosemary” written across thecorner. He put it into Miss Pebmarsh’s hands. She felt it over carefully.
“It seems an ordinary travelling clock,” she said, “the leather folding kind. It is not mine,Inspector Hardcastle, and it was not in this room, I am fairly sure I can say, when I left the houseat half past one.”

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