Had we
been there a moment sooner we might have seen, I suppose, that one
of them nodded to a taxicab driver who was standing at a public
hack stand a few feet up the block. The driver nodded
unostentatiously back to the men.
In spite of the excitement, Kennedy quietly examined the show
case, which was, indeed, a veritable treasure store of brilliants.
Then with a keen scrutinizing glance he looked over the police and
detectives gathered around. There was nothing to do now but wait,
as the detectives had advised.
I looked at a large antique grandfather's clock which was standing
nearby. It now lacked scarcely a minute of twelve.
Slowly the hands of the clock came nearer together at noon.
We all gathered about the show case with its glittering hoard of
wealth, forming a circle at a respectful distance.
Martin pointed nervously at the clock.
In deep-lunged tones the clock played the chords written, I
believe, by Handel. Then it began striking.
As it did so, Martin involuntarily counted off the strokes, while
one of the plainclothesmen waved his shotgun in unison.
Martin finished counting.
Nothing had happened.
We all breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well, it is still there!" exclaimed Martin, pointing at the show-
case, with a forced laugh.
Suddenly came a rending and crashing sound.
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