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They carelessly gave him specific directions and passed on. He followed grimly, like fate, whose agent he was, though long delayed. When he reached the Adlergasse he looked for a sign. He came to a stop in front of the dingy shop of the clock-mender. He went inside, and the ancient clock-mender looked up from his work, for he was always working.
"There must be some one for the duke to punish," heroically; "otherwise he will refuse." "Still, suppose I bargain for you, too?" "When you tell him my name is Breunner there will be no bargaining." "What has this clock-mender to do with the case?" "He is Count von Arnsberg." "By George! And this Gipsy?" "The man who bribed me.
Meantime, Josiah Pease had divested himself of his coat, and drawn the grandfather chair into a space behind the stove. "You a clock-mender by trade?" he asked of Enoch. "No," said Enoch absently, "I ain't got any reg'lar trade." "Jest goin' round the country?" amended cousin Josiah, with the preliminary insinuation Amelia knew so well.
The face was corrugated with wrinkles, like a frosted road; eyes heavily spectacled, a ragged thatch of hair on the head, a ragged beard on the chin. Aware of a shadow between him and the fading daylight, the clock-mender looked up from his work. The eyes of the two men met, but only for a moment.
On a bench in the bar sat Black Tom, smoking, spitting, scraping his feet on the sanded floor, and looking like a gigantic spider with enormous bald head. At his side was a thin man with a face pitted by smallpox, and a forehead covered with strange protuberances. This was Jonaique Jelly, barber, clock-mender, and Manx patriot.
A little doctor in the Deutsch hills, who once prescribed for the clock-mender, reported that his pulse had a metallic beat, and, looking suddenly up, he saw, where Minuit's face had been, a round clock face looking down and ticking at him. This doctor was a worthless fellow, however, and loose of tongue.
The bony hands of the clock-mender shot out and clutched the other's coat in a grip which shook, so intense was it. The Gipsy released himself slowly. "But first show me your pretty crowns and the paper which will give me immunity from the police. I know something about you. You never break your word. That is why I came. Your crowns, as you offered, and immunity; then I speak."
"Man, I can give you the crowns, but God knows I have no longer the power to give you immunity." "So?" The Gipsy shouldered his bundle. "For God's sake, wait!" begged the clock-mender. But the Gipsy walked out, unheeding. Two days later, in the afternoon. "Grumbach," said Carmichael, "what the deuce were you looking at the other night, with those opera-glasses?" "At the ball?"
The clock-mender pried open the case, adjusted his glass and dropped it, shaking with terror. "You?" he whispered. "Sh!" said Herr Ludwig, putting a finger to his lips. The watch, slipping from the clock-mender's hand, spun like a coin on the counter, while the clock-mender himself, his eyes bulging, his jaw dangling, it might be said, staggered back upon his stool.
How old this clock-mender was, how very old! "Yes," he said. "I've a watch I should like you to look over." And he carelessly laid the beautiful time-piece on the worn wooden counter. The clock-mender literally pounced upon it. "Where did you get a watch like this?" he demanded suspiciously. "It is mine. You will find my name engraved inside the back lid."
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