about seven o'clock
The readers of `` The Blade '' that crisp October morning knew of Mrs. Macey 's loss . There was much talk about the matter around the town . People who walked downtown early that morning peered into gutters and down through sidewalk gratings . Then , at about seven o'clock a sensation started , and swiftly grew . One man , glancing skyward , had his attention attracted to something fluttering at the top of the spire of the Methodist church , more than half a block away from the opera house . It was fabric of some sort , and one end fluttered in the breeze , though most of the black material appeared to be wrapped around the tip of the weather vane in which the spire staff terminated . `` That 's the jeweled scarf , I 'll bet a month 's pay ! ''