It was intolerably dirty and neglected; everything was covered with a thick grey dust.

Barrant walked over to the clock and regarded it attentively.
What a rascally fat face that moon had! It must have seen some queer sights in old houses during its two hundred years of life.

Strange that those old clockmakers could make clocks to last so long, but couldn't keep their own life-springs running half the time! The moral verse was curious enough.

Why should a man who spent half his lifetime putting together a clock presume to tell his fellow creatures to make the most of the passing hour?
His reflections took a more practical turn.

The clock was the sole witness to the time of the murder.