"I think not. The front door was locked, just as it is now. I went out the side one. That was locked with the spring catch from the inside."

"Wasn't it bolted?" came sharply from Thong.

"I didn't notice about that. You see, I was all excited like--"

"Yes," a.s.sented Thong.

"There's a bolt on the door!" Carroll snapped.

"Yes, but Mrs. Darcy may have slipped it back herself. She was down first, though why, I can't say. She seldom came down ahead of me, especially of late years. I generally opened the store. The clerks report at eighty-thirty--there's some of 'em now."

More knockings had sounded on the front door, and the faces of two young men peered in through the misty gla.s.s, the crowd having made a lane for them on learning that they worked in the place of death.

"Let 'em in, sure!" a.s.sented Thong. "We got to talk to all of 'em!

Let 'em in!"

Darcy did so, Mulligan helping him keep back the crowd of curious ones.

"Here comes Miss Brill," said one of the men clerks to Darcy. "What's the matter? Is Mrs. Darcy--?"

"Dead! Killed, I'm afraid! The store won't open to-day, but the police want to see every one. Oh, Miss Brill, come in!" and he held out his hand to the one young woman clerk, who drew back in horrified fright as she saw the silent figure on the floor.

"Oh--Oh!" she gasped, and then she went into hysterics, adding to the excitement and giving Mulligan a bad five minutes while he fought to keep the crowd from surging in.

But when Miss Brill had been carried to a rear room and quieted, and when the shades had been drawn to keep the curious ones from peering in, the questioning of Darcy was resumed.

"Did you come directly down to the store from your room?" asked Thong.

"Yes. As soon as I awakened."

"Where is your room?"

"In the rear, on the second floor--the one next above. Mrs. Darcy has her rooms in front. Then come those of her maid, Jane Metson. Sallie Page sleeps on the top floor where the janitor's family lives, and he, of course, sleeps up there also."

"I see," murmured Carroll. "Then you came downstairs and found Mrs.

Darcy lying here--dead?"

"I wasn't sure she was dead--"

"Oh, she was _dead_ all right," broke in Thong. "No question about that. Did you hear anything?"

"Only the watch ticking in her hand. First I thought it was her heart beating."

"No, I mean did you hear anything in the night?" went on the detective.

"Any queer noise? It's mighty funny if there was murder done and no robbery. But of course she might have heard a noise if you didn't, and she might have come down to find out what it was about. She might have caught a burglar at work, and he may have killed her to get away. But if it was a burglar it's funny you didn't hear any noise--like a fall, or something. How about that, Mr. Darcy?"

"Well, no. I didn't exactly hear anything. I went to bed about half past ten, after working at my table down here awhile."

"Was Mrs. Darcy in bed then?" Thong asked.

"I couldn't say. She had gone to her apartment, but I don't have to pa.s.s near that to get to my room. I came straight up and went to bed."

"At ten o'clock, you say?"

"A little after. It may have been a quarter to eleven."

"And you didn't hear anything all night?" Carroll shot this question at Darcy suddenly.

"No--no--not exactly, I did hear _something_--it wasn't exactly a noise--and yet it was a noise."

"What kind of talk is that?" demanded Thong roughly. "Either it was a noise or it wasn't! Now which was it?"

"Well, if you call a clock striking a noise, then it was one."

"Oh, a clock struck!" and Thong settled back in his chair more at his ease. His manner seemed to indicate that he was on the track of something.

"Yes, a clock struck. It was either three or four, I can't be sure which," Darcy replied. "You know when you awaken in the night, and hear the strokes, you can't be sure you haven't missed some of the first ones. I heard three, anyhow, I'm sure of that."

"Well, put it down as three," suggested Thong. "Was it the striking of the clock that awakened you?"

"No, not exactly. It was more as if some one had been in my room."

"Some one in your room!" exclaimed both detectives. They were questioning Darcy in the living-room of Mrs. Darcy's suite, the clerks being detained downstairs by Mulligan. The county physician, who was also the coroner, had not yet arrived.

"Yes, at first I thought some one had been in my room, and then, after I thought about it, I wasn't quite sure. All I know is I slept quite soundly--sounder than usual in fact, and, all at once, I heard a clock strike."

"Three or four," murmured Thong.

"Yes; three anyhow--maybe four. Something awakened me suddenly; but what, I can't say. I remember, at the time, it felt as though something had pa.s.sed over my face."

"Like a hand?" suggested Carroll.

"Well, I couldn't be sure. It may have been I dreamed it."

"But what did it _feel_ like?" insisted Thong.

"Well, like a cloth brushing my face more than like a hand--or it may have been a hand with a glove on it. Yes, it may have been that. Then I tried to arouse myself, but I heard the wind blowing and a sprinkle of rain, and, as my window was open, I thought the curtain might have blown across my face. That would account for it I reasoned, so--"

"Yes, it _may_ have been the curtain," said Thong, slowly. "But what did you do?"

"Nothing. I lay still a little while, and then I went to sleep again.

I was only awake maybe two or three minutes."

"You didn't call Mrs. Darcy?"

"No."

"Nor the servant--what's her name? Sallie?"