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By the Watchman's Clock — Leslie Ford
A YOUNG GIRL --
A STRANGE MURDER --
AND THE CLUE OF
THE WATCHMAN'S CLOCK
“Slowly I turned to face the hall and the doorway. I waited in an agony of suspense. The great house was as silent as an empty grave, with the pulse of time beating eternally against it; tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock…
Gradually I relaxed and let my hand drop, until -- I shrieked and turned -- and raised my hand dripping with blood. I stared at it like a maniac and then at the thing it had touched…”
A STRANGE MURDER --
AND THE CLUE OF
THE WATCHMAN'S CLOCK
“Slowly I turned to face the hall and the doorway. I waited in an agony of suspense. The great house was as silent as an empty grave, with the pulse of time beating eternally against it; tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock…
Gradually I relaxed and let my hand drop, until -- I shrieked and turned -- and raised my hand dripping with blood. I stared at it like a maniac and then at the thing it had touched…”
