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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20630-8.txt b/20630-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fffad0d --- /dev/null +++ b/20630-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9368 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Borough Treasurer, by Joseph Smith Fletcher + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Borough Treasurer + +Author: Joseph Smith Fletcher + +Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20630] +[Last updated: May 17, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOROUGH TREASURER *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE BOROUGH +TREASURER + +BY + +J. S. FLETCHER + +AUTHOR OF + +THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER, +THE PARADISE MYSTERY, ETC. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. + +Published July, 1921 +Second Printing, November, 1921 + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + +CONTENTS + + + I BLACKMAIL, 1 + + II CRIME--AND SUCCESS, 11 + + III MURDER, 21 + + IV THE PINE WOOD, 31 + + V THE CORD, 41 + + VI THE MAYOR, 52 + + VII NIGHT WORK, 61 + + VIII RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE, 71 + + IX ANTECEDENTS, 82 + + X THE HOLE IN THE THATCH, 91 + + XI CHRISTOPHER PETT, 101 + + XII PARENTAL ANXIETY, 111 + + XIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER, 121 + + XIV THE SHEET OF FIGURES, 131 + + XV ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER, 141 + + XVI THE LONELY MOOR, 149 + + XVII THE MEDICAL OPINION, 159 + + XVIII THE SCRAP BOOK, 171 + + XIX A TALL MAN IN GREY CLOTHES, 181 + + XX AT BAY, 191 + + XXI THE INTERRUPTED FLIGHT, 203 + + XXII THE HAND IN THE DARKNESS, 211 + + XXIII COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY, 221 + + XXIV STRICT BUSINESS LINES, 231 + + XXV NO FURTHER EVIDENCE, 242 + + XXVI THE VIRTUES OF SUSPICION, 251 + + XXVII MR. WRAYTHWAITE OF WRAYE, 260 + +XXVIII PAGES FROM THE PAST, 269 + + XXIX WITHOUT THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCES, 277 + + XXX COTHERSTONE, 283 + + XXXI THE BARRISTER'S FEE, 302 + + + + +THE BOROUGH TREASURER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BLACKMAIL + + +Half way along the north side of the main street of Highmarket an +ancient stone gateway, imposing enough to suggest that it was originally +the entrance to some castellated mansion or manor house, gave access to +a square yard, flanked about by equally ancient buildings. What those +buildings had been used for in other days was not obvious to the casual +and careless observer, but to the least observant their present use was +obvious enough. Here were piles of timber from Norway; there were stacks +of slate from Wales; here was marble from Aberdeen, and there cement +from Portland: the old chambers of the grey buildings were filled to +overflowing with all the things that go towards making a +house--ironwork, zinc, lead, tiles, great coils of piping, stores of +domestic appliances. And on a shining brass plate, set into the wall, +just within the gateway, were deeply engraven the words: _Mallalieu and +Cotherstone, Builders and Contractors_. + +Whoever had walked into Mallalieu & Cotherstone's yard one October +afternoon a few years ago would have seen Mallalieu and Cotherstone in +person. The two partners had come out of their office and gone down the +yard to inspect half a dozen new carts, just finished, and now drawn up +in all the glory of fresh paint. Mallalieu had designed those carts +himself, and he was now pointing out their advantages to Cotherstone, +who was more concerned with the book-keeping and letter-writing side of +the business than with its actual work. He was a big, fleshy man, +Mallalieu, midway between fifty and sixty, of a large, solemn, +well-satisfied countenance, small, sly eyes, and an expression of steady +watchfulness; his attire was always of the eminently respectable sort, +his linen fresh and glossy; the thick gold chain across his ample front, +and the silk hat which he invariably wore, gave him an unmistakable air +of prosperity. He stood now, the silk hat cocked a little to one side, +one hand under the tail of his broadcloth coat, a pudgy finger of the +other pointing to some new feature of the mechanism of the new carts, +and he looked the personification of self-satisfaction and smug content. + +"All done in one action, d'ye see, Cotherstone?" he was saying. "One +pull at that pin releases the entire load. We'd really ought to have a +patent for that idea." + +Cotherstone went nearer the cart which they were examining. He was a +good deal of a contrast to his partner--a slightly built, wiry man, +nervous and quick of movement; although he was Mallalieu's junior he +looked older, and the thin hair at his temples was already whitening. +Mallalieu suggested solidity and almost bovine sleekness; in +Cotherstone, activity of speech and gesture was marked well-nigh to an +appearance of habitual anxiety. He stepped about the cart with the quick +action of an inquisitive bird or animal examining something which it has +never seen before. + +"Yes, yes, yes!" he answered. "Yes, that's a good idea. But if it's to +be patented, you know, we ought to see to it at once, before these carts +go into use." + +"Why, there's nobody in Highmarket like to rob us," observed Mallalieu, +good-humouredly. "You might consider about getting--what do they call +it?--provisional protection?--for it." + +"I'll look it up," responded Cotherstone. "It's worth that, anyhow." + +"Do," said Mallalieu. He pulled out the big gold watch which hung from +the end of his cable chain and glanced at its jewelled dial. "Dear me!" +he exclaimed. "Four o'clock--I've a meeting in the Mayor's parlour at +ten past. But I'll look in again before going home." + +He hurried away towards the entrance gate, and Cotherstone, after +ruminative inspection of the new carts, glanced at some papers in his +hand and went over to a consignment of goods which required checking. He +was carefully ticking them off on a list when a clerk came down the +yard. + +"Mr. Kitely called to pay his rent, sir," he announced. "He asked to see +you yourself." + +"Twenty-five--six--seven," counted Cotherstone. "Take him into the +private office, Stoner," he answered. "I'll be there in a minute." + +He continued his checking until it was finished, entered the figures on +his list, and went briskly back to the counting-house near the gateway. +There he bustled into a room kept sacred to himself and Mallalieu, with +a cheery greeting to his visitor--an elderly man who had recently +rented from him a small house on the outskirts of the town. + +"Afternoon, Mr. Kitely," he said. "Glad to see you, sir--always glad to +see anybody with a bit of money, eh? Take a chair, sir--I hope you're +satisfied with the little place, Mr. Kitely?" + +The visitor took the offered elbow-chair, folded his hands on the top of +his old-fashioned walking-cane, and glanced at his landlord with a +half-humorous, half-quizzical expression. He was an elderly, +clean-shaven, grey-haired man, spare of figure, dressed in rusty black; +a wisp of white neckcloth at his throat gave him something of a clerical +appearance: Cotherstone, who knew next to nothing about him, except that +he was able to pay his rent and taxes, had already set him down as a +retired verger of some cathedral. + +"I should think you and Mr. Mallalieu are in no need of a bit of money, +Mr. Cotherstone," he said quietly. "Business seems to be good with you, +sir." + +"Oh, so-so," replied Cotherstone, off-handedly. "Naught to complain of, +of course. I'll give you a receipt, Mr. Kitely," he went on, seating +himself at his desk and taking up a book of forms. "Let's +see--twenty-five pounds a year is six pound five a quarter--there you +are, sir. Will you have a drop of whisky?" + +Kitely laid a handful of gold and silver on the desk, took the receipt, +and nodded his head, still watching Cotherstone with the same +half-humorous expression. + +"Thank you," he said. "I shouldn't mind." + +He watched Cotherstone produce a decanter and glasses, watched him fetch +fresh water from a filter in the corner of the room, watched him mix the +drinks, and took his own with no more than a polite nod of thanks. And +Cotherstone, murmuring an expression of good wishes, took a drink +himself, and sat down with his desk-chair turned towards his visitor. + +"Aught you'd like doing at the house, Mr. Kitely?" he asked. + +"No," answered Kitely, "no, I can't say that there is." + +There was something odd, almost taciturn, in his manner, and Cotherstone +glanced at him a little wonderingly. + +"And how do you like Highmarket, now you've had a spell of it?" he +inquired. "Got settled down, I suppose, now?" + +"It's all that I expected," replied Kitely. "Quiet--peaceful. How do you +like it?" + +"Me!" exclaimed Cotherstone, surprised. "Me?--why, I've had--yes, +five-and-twenty years of it!" + +Kitely took another sip from his glass and set it down. He gave +Cotherstone a sharp look. + +"Yes," he said, "yes--five-and-twenty years. You and your partner, both. +Yes--it'll be just about thirty years since I first saw you. But--you've +forgotten." + +Cotherstone, who had been lounging forward, warming his hands at the +fire, suddenly sat straight up in his chair. His face, always sharp +seemed to grow sharper as he turned to his visitor with a questioning +look. + +"Since--what?" he demanded. + +"Since I first saw you--and Mr. Mallalieu," replied Kitely. "As I say, +you've forgotten. But--I haven't." + +Cotherstone sat staring at his tenant for a full minute of +speechlessness. Then he slowly rose, walked over to the door, looked at +it to see that it was closed, and returning to the hearth, fixed his +eyes on Kitely. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"Just what I say," answered Kitely, with a dry laugh. "It's thirty years +since I first saw you and Mallalieu. That's all." + +"Where?" demanded Cotherstone. + +Kitely motioned his landlord to sit down. And Cotherstone sat +down--trembling. His arm shook when Kitely laid a hand on it. + +"Do you want to know where?" he asked, bending close to Cotherstone. +"I'll tell you. In the dock--at Wilchester Assizes. Eh?" + +Cotherstone made no answer. He had put the tips of his fingers together, +and now he was tapping the nails of one hand against the nails of the +other. And he stared and stared at the face so close to his own--as if +it had been the face of a man resurrected from the grave. Within him +there was a feeling of extraordinary physical sickness; it was quickly +followed by one of inertia, just as extraordinary. He felt as if he had +been mesmerized; as if he could neither move nor speak. And Kitely sat +there, a hand on his victim's arm, his face sinister and purposeful, +close to his. + +"Fact!" he murmured. "Absolute fact! I remember everything. It's come on +me bit by bit, though. I thought I knew you when I first came +here--then I had a feeling that I knew Mallalieu. And--in time--I +remembered--everything! Of course, when I saw you both--where I did see +you--you weren't Mallalieu & Cotherstone. You were----" + +Cotherstone suddenly made an effort, and shook off the thin fingers +which lay on his sleeve. His pale face grew crimson, and the veins +swelled on his forehead. + +"Confound you!" he said in a low, concentrated voice. "Who are you?" + +Kitely shook his head and smiled quietly. + +"No need to grow warm," he answered. "Of course, it's excusable in you. +Who am I? Well, if you really want to know, I've been employed in the +police line for thirty-five years--until lately." + +"A detective!" exclaimed Cotherstone. + +"Not when I was present at Wilchester--that time," replied Kitely. "But +afterwards--in due course. Ah!--do you know, I often was curious as to +what became of you both! But I never dreamed of meeting you--here. Of +course, you came up North after you'd done your time? Changed your +names, started a new life--and here you are! Clever!" + +Cotherstone was recovering his wits. He had got out of his chair by that +time, and had taken up a position on the hearthrug, his back to the +fire, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his visitor. He was +thinking--and for the moment he let Kitely talk. + +"Yes--clever!" continued Kitely in the same level, subdued tones, "very +clever indeed! I suppose you'd carefully planted some of that money +you--got hold of? Must have done, of course--you'd want money to start +this business. Well, you've done all this on the straight, anyhow. And +you've done well, too. Odd, isn't it, that I should come to live down +here, right away in the far North of England, and find you in such good +circumstances, too! Mr. Mallalieu, Mayor of Highmarket--his second term +of office! Mr. Cotherstone, Borough Treasurer of Highmarket--now in his +sixth year of that important post! I say again--you've both done +uncommonly well--uncommonly!" + +"Have you got any more to say?" asked Cotherstone. + +But Kitely evidently intended to say what he had to say in his own +fashion. He took no notice of Cotherstone's question, and presently, as +if he were amusing himself with reminiscences of a long dead past, he +spoke again, quietly and slowly. + +"Yes," he murmured, "uncommonly well! And of course you'd have capital. +Put safely away, of course, while you were doing your time. Let's +see--it was a Building Society that you defrauded, wasn't it? Mallalieu +was treasurer, and you were secretary. Yes--I remember now. The amount +was two thous----" + +Cotherstone made a sudden exclamation and a sharp movement--both +checked by an equally sudden change of attitude and expression on the +part of the ex-detective. For Kitely sat straight up and looked the +junior partner squarely in the face. + +"Better not, Mr. Cotherstone!" he said, with a grin that showed his +yellow teeth. "You can't very well choke the life out of me in your own +office, can you? You couldn't hide my old carcase as easily as you and +Mallalieu hid those Building Society funds, you know. So--be calm! I'm a +reasonable man--and getting an old man." + +He accompanied the last words with a meaning smile, and Cotherstone took +a turn or two about the room, trying to steady himself. And Kitely +presently went on again, in the same monotonous tones: + +"Think it all out--by all means," he said. "I don't suppose there's a +soul in all England but myself knows your secret--and Mallalieu's. It +was sheer accident, of course, that I ever discovered it. But--I know! +Just consider what I do know. Consider, too, what you stand to lose. +There's Mallalieu, so much respected that he's Mayor of this ancient +borough for the second time. There's you--so much trusted that you've +been Borough Treasurer for years. You can't afford to let me tell the +Highmarket folk that you two are ex-convicts! Besides, in your case +there's another thing--there's your daughter." + +Cotherstone groaned--a deep, unmistakable groan of sheer torture. But +Kitely went on remorselessly. + +"Your daughter's just about to marry the most promising young man in the +place," he said. "A young fellow with a career before him. Do you think +he'd marry her if he knew that her father--even if it is thirty years +ago--had been convicted of----" + +"Look you here!" interrupted Cotherstone, through set teeth. "I've had +enough! I've asked you once before if you'd any more to say--now I'll +put it in another fashion. For I see what you're after--and it's +blackmail! How much do you want? Come on--give it a name!" + +"Name nothing, till you've told Mallalieu," answered Kitely. "There's no +hurry. You two can't, and I shan't, run away. Time enough--I've the whip +hand. Tell your partner, the Mayor, all I've told you--then you can put +your heads together, and see what you're inclined to do. An annuity, +now?--that would suit me." + +"You haven't mentioned this to a soul?" asked Cotherstone anxiously. + +"Bah!" sneered Kitely. "D'ye think I'm a fool? Not likely. Well--now you +know. I'll come in here again tomorrow afternoon. And--you'll both be +here, and ready with a proposal." + +He picked up his glass, leisurely drank off its remaining contents, and +without a word of farewell opened the door and went quietly away. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CRIME--AND SUCCESS + + +For some moments after Kitely had left him, Cotherstone stood vacantly +staring at the chair in which the blackmailer had sat. As yet he could +not realize things. He was only filled with a queer, vague amazement +about Kitely himself. He began to look back on his relations with +Kitely. They were recent--very recent, only of yesterday, as you might +say. Kitely had come to him, one day about three months previously, told +him that he had come to these parts for a bit of a holiday, taken a +fancy to a cottage which he, Cotherstone, had to let, and inquired its +rent. He had mentioned, casually, that he had just retired from +business, and wanted a quiet place wherein to spend the rest of his +days. He had taken the cottage, and given his landlord satisfactory +references as to his ability to pay the rent--and Cotherstone, always a +busy man, had thought no more about him. Certainly he had never +anticipated such an announcement as that which Kitely had just made to +him--never dreamed that Kitely had recognized him and Mallalieu as men +he had known thirty years ago. + +It had been Cotherstone's life-long endeavour to forget all about the +event of thirty years ago, and to a large extent he had succeeded in +dulling his memory. But Kitely had brought it all back--and now +everything was fresh to him. His brows knitted and his face grew dark as +he thought of one thing in his past of which Kitely had spoken so easily +and glibly--the dock. He saw himself in that dock again--and Mallalieu +standing by him. They were not called Mallalieu and Cotherstone then, of +course. He remembered what their real names were--he remembered, too, +that, until a few minutes before, he had certainly not repeated them, +even to himself, for many a long year. Oh, yes--he remembered +everything--he saw it all again. The case had excited plenty of +attention in Wilchester at the time--Wilchester, that for thirty years +had been so far away in thought and in actual distance that it might +have been some place in the Antipodes. It was not a nice case--even now, +looking back upon it from his present standpoint, it made him blush to +think of. Two better-class young working-men, charged with embezzling +the funds of a building society to which they had acted as treasurer and +secretary!--a bad case. The Court had thought it a bad case, and the +culprits had been sentenced to two years' imprisonment. And now +Cotherstone only remembered that imprisonment as one remembers a +particularly bad dream. Yes--it had been real. + +His eyes, moody and brooding, suddenly shifted their gaze from the easy +chair to his own hands--they were shaking. Mechanically he took up the +whisky decanter from his desk, and poured some of its contents into his +glass--the rim of the glass tinkled against the neck of the decanter. +Yes--that had been a shock, right enough, he muttered to himself, and +not all the whisky in the world would drive it out of him. But a +drink--neat and stiff--would pull his nerves up to pitch, and so he +drank, once, twice, and sat down with the glass in his hand--to think +still more. + +That old Kitely was shrewd--shrewd! He had at once hit on a fact which +those Wilchester folk of thirty years ago had never suspected. It had +been said at the time that the two offenders had lost the building +society's money in gambling and speculation, and there had been grounds +for such a belief. But that was not so. Most of the money had been +skilfully and carefully put where the two conspirators could lay hands +on it as soon as it was wanted, and when the term of imprisonment was +over they had nothing to do but take possession of it for their own +purposes. They had engineered everything very well--Cotherstone's +essentially constructive mind, regarding their doings from the vantage +ground of thirty years' difference, acknowledged that they had been +cute, crafty, and cautious to an admirable degree of perfection. Quietly +and unobtrusively they had completely disappeared from their own +district in the extreme South of England, when their punishment was +over. They had let it get abroad that they were going to another +continent, to retrieve the past and start a new life; it was even known +that they repaired to Liverpool, to take ship for America. But in +Liverpool they had shuffled off everything of the past--names, +relations, antecedents. There was no reason why any one should watch +them out of the country, but they had adopted precautions against such +watching. They separated, disappeared, met again in the far North, in a +sparsely-populated, lonely country of hill and dale, led there by an +advertisement which they had seen in a local newspaper, met with by +sheer chance in a Liverpool hotel. There was an old-established business +to sell as a going concern, in the dale town of Highmarket: the two +ex-convicts bought it. From that time they were Anthony Mallalieu and +Milford Cotherstone, and the past was dead. + +During the thirty years in which that past had been dead, Cotherstone +had often heard men remark that this world of ours is a very small one, +and he had secretly laughed at them. To him and to his partner the world +had been wide and big enough. They were now four hundred miles away from +the scene of their crime. There was nothing whatever to bring Wilchester +people into that northern country, nothing to take Highmarket folk +anywhere near Wilchester. Neither he nor Mallalieu ever went far +afield--London they avoided with particular care, lest they should meet +any one there who had known them in the old days. They had stopped at +home, and minded their business, year in and year out. Naturally, they +had prospered. They had speedily become known as hard-working young men; +then as good employers of labour; finally as men of considerable +standing in a town of which there were only some five thousand +inhabitants. They had been invited to join in public matters--Mallalieu +had gone into the Town Council first; Cotherstone had followed him +later. They had been as successful in administering the affairs of the +little town as in conducting their own, and in time both had attained +high honours: Mallalieu was now wearing the mayoral chain for the second +time; Cotherstone, as Borough Treasurer, had governed the financial +matters of Highmarket for several years. And as he sat there, staring at +the red embers of the office fire, he remembered that there were no two +men in the whole town who were more trusted and respected than he and +his partner--his partner in success ... and in crime. + +But that was not all. Both men had married within a few years of their +coming to Highmarket. They had married young women of good standing in +the neighbourhood; it was perhaps well, reflected Cotherstone, that +their wives were dead, and that Mallalieu had never been blessed with +children. But Cotherstone had a daughter, of whom he was as fond as he +was proud; for her he had toiled and contrived, always intending her to +be a rich woman. He had seen to it that she was well educated; he had +even allowed himself to be deprived of her company for two years while +she went to an expensive school, far away; since she had grown up, he +had surrounded her with every comfort. And now, as Kitely had reminded +him, she was engaged to be married to the most promising young man in +Highmarket, Windle Bent, a rich manufacturer, who had succeeded to and +greatly developed a fine business, who had already made his mark on the +Town Council, and was known to cherish Parliamentary ambitions. +Everybody knew that Bent had a big career before him; he had all the +necessary gifts; all the proper stuff in him for such a career. He would +succeed; he would probably win a title for himself--a baronetcy, perhaps +a peerage. This was just the marriage which Cotherstone desired for +Lettie; he would die more than happy if he could once hear her called +Your Ladyship. And now here was--this! + +Cotherstone sat there a long time, thinking, reflecting, reckoning up +things. The dusk had come; the darkness followed; he made no movement +towards the gas bracket. Nothing mattered but his trouble. That must be +dealt with. At all costs, Kitely's silence must be purchased--aye, even +if it cost him and Mallalieu one-half of what they had. And, of course, +Mallalieu must be told--at once. + +A tap of somebody's knuckles on the door of the private room roused him +at last, and he sprang up and seized a box of matches as he bade the +person without to enter. The clerk came in, carrying a sheaf of papers, +and Cotherstone bustled to the gas. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I've dropped off into a nod over this warm +fire, Stoner. What's that--letters?" + +"There's all these letters to sign, Mr. Cotherstone, and these three +contracts to go through," answered the clerk. "And there are those +specifications to examine, as well." + +"Mr. Mallalieu'll have to see those," said Cotherstone. He lighted the +gas above his desk, put the decanter and the glasses aside, and took the +letters. "I'll sign these, anyhow," he said, "and then you can post 'em +as you go home. The other papers'll do tomorrow morning." + +The clerk stood slightly behind his master as Cotherstone signed one +letter after the other, glancing quickly through each. He was a young +man of twenty-two or three, with quick, observant manners, a keen eye, +and a not handsome face, and as he stood there the face was bent on +Cotherstone with a surmising look. Stoner had noticed his employer's +thoughtful attitude, the gloom in which Cotherstone sat, the decanter on +the table, the glass in Cotherstone's hand, and he knew that Cotherstone +was telling a fib when he said he had been asleep. He noticed, too, the +six sovereigns and the two or three silver coins lying on the desk, and +he wondered what had made his master so abstracted that he had forgotten +to pocket them. For he knew Cotherstone well, and Cotherstone was so +particular about money that he never allowed even a penny to lie out of +place. + +"There!" said Cotherstone, handing back the batch of letters. "You'll be +going now, I suppose. Put those in the post. I'm not going just yet, so +I'll lock up the office. Leave the outer door open--Mr. Mallalieu's +coming back." + +He pulled down the blinds of the private room when Stoner had gone, and +that done he fell to walking up and down, awaiting his partner. And +presently Mallalieu came, smoking a cigar, and evidently in as good +humour as usual. + +"Oh, you're still here?" he said as he entered. "I--what's up?" + +He had come to a sudden halt close to his partner, and he now stood +staring at him. And Cotherstone, glancing past Mallalieu's broad +shoulder at a mirror, saw that he himself had become startlingly pale +and haggard. He looked twenty years older than he had looked when he +shaved himself that morning. + +"Aren't you well?" demanded Mallalieu. "What is it?" + +Cotherstone made no answer. He walked past Mallalieu and looked into the +outer office. The clerk had gone, and the place was only half-lighted. +But Cotherstone closed the door with great care, and when he went back +to Mallalieu he sank his voice to a whisper. + +"Bad news!" he said. "Bad--bad news!" + +"What about?" asked Mallalieu. "Private? Business?" + +Cotherstone put his lips almost close to Mallalieu's ear. + +"That man Kitely--my new tenant," he whispered. "He's met us--you and +me--before!" + +Mallalieu's rosy cheeks paled, and he turned sharply on his companion. + +"Met--us!" he exclaimed. "Him! Where?--when?" + +Cotherstone got his lips still closer. + +"Wilchester!" he answered. "Thirty years ago. He--knows!" + +Mallalieu dropped into the nearest chair: dropped as if he had been +shot. His face, full of colour from the keen air outside, became as pale +as his partner's; his jaw fell, his mouth opened; a strained look came +into his small eyes. + +"Gad!" he muttered hoarsely. "You--you don't say so!" + +"It's a fact," answered Cotherstone. "He knows everything. He's an +ex-detective. He was there--that day." + +"Tracked us down?" asked Mallalieu. "That it?" + +"No," said Cotherstone. "Sheer chance--pure accident. Recognized +us--after he came here. Aye--after all these years! Thirty years!" + +Mallalieu's eyes, roving about the room, fell on the decanter. He pulled +himself out of his chair, found a clean glass, and took a stiff drink. +And his partner, watching him, saw that his hands, too, were shaking. + +"That's a facer!" said Mallalieu. His voice had grown stronger, and the +colour came back to his cheeks. "A real facer! As you say--after thirty +years! It's hard--it's blessed hard! And--what does he want? What's he +going to do?" + +"Wants to blackmail us, of course," replied Cotherstone, with a +mirthless laugh. "What else should he do? What could he do? Why, he +could tell all Highmarket who we are, and----" + +"Aye, aye!--but the thing is here," interrupted Mallalieu. + +"Supposing we do square him?--is there any reliance to be placed on him +then? It 'ud only be the old game--he'd only want more." + +"He said an annuity," remarked Cotherstone, thoughtfully. "And he added +significantly, that he was getting an old man." + +"How old?" demanded Mallalieu. + +"Between sixty and seventy," said Cotherstone. "I'm under the impression +that he could be squared, could be satisfied. He'll have to be! We can't +let it get out--I can't, any way. There's my daughter to think of." + +"D'ye think I'd let it get out?" asked Mallalieu. "No!--all I'm thinking +of is if we really can silence him. I've heard of cases where a man's +paid blackmail for years and years, and been no better for it in the +end." + +"Well--he's coming here tomorrow afternoon some time," said Cotherstone. +"We'd better see him--together. After all, a hundred a year--a couple of +hundred a year--'ud be better than--exposure." + +Mallalieu drank off his whisky and pushed the glass aside. + +"I'll consider it," he remarked. "What's certain sure is that he'll have +to be quietened. I must go--I've an appointment. Are you coming out?" + +"Not yet," replied Cotherstone. "I've all these papers to go through. +Well, think it well over. He's a man to be feared." + +Mallalieu made no answer. He, like Kitely, went off without a word of +farewell, and Cotherstone was once more left alone. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MURDER + + +When Mallalieu had gone, Cotherstone gathered up the papers which his +clerk had brought in, and sitting down at his desk tried to give his +attention to them. The effort was not altogether a success. He had hoped +that the sharing of the bad news with his partner would bring some +relief to him, but his anxieties were still there. He was always seeing +that queer, sinister look in Kitely's knowing eyes: it suggested that as +long as Kitely lived there would be no safety. Even if Kitely kept his +word, kept any compact made with him, he would always have the two +partners under his thumb. And for thirty years Cotherstone had been +under no man's thumb, and the fear of having a master was hateful to +him. He heartily wished that Kitely was dead--dead and buried, and his +secret with him; he wished that it had been anywise possible to have +crushed the life out of him where he sat in that easy chair as soon as +he had shown himself the reptile that he was. A man might kill any +poisonous insect, any noxious reptile at pleasure--why not a human +blood-sucker like that? + +He sat there a long time, striving to give his attention to his papers, +and making a poor show of it. The figures danced about before him; he +could make neither head nor tail of the technicalities in the +specifications and estimates; every now and then fits of abstraction +came over him, and he sat drumming the tips of his fingers on his +blotting-pad, staring vacantly at the shadows in the far depths of the +room, and always thinking--thinking of the terrible danger of +revelation. And always, as an under-current, he was saying that for +himself he cared naught--Kitely could do what he liked, or would have +done what he liked, had there only been himself to think for. +But--Lettie! All his life was now centred in her, and in her happiness, +and Lettie's happiness, he knew, was centred in the man she was going to +marry. And Cotherstone, though he believed that he knew men pretty well, +was not sure that he knew Windle Bent sufficiently to feel sure that he +would endure a stiff test. Bent was ambitious--he was resolved on a +career. Was he the sort of man to stand the knowledge which Kitely might +give him? For there was always the risk that whatever he and Mallalieu +might do, Kitely, while there was breath in him, might split. + +A sudden ringing at the bell of the telephone in the outer office made +Cotherstone jump in his chair as if the arresting hand of justice had +suddenly been laid on him. In spite of himself he rose trembling, and +there were beads of perspiration on his forehead as he walked across the +room. + +"Nerves!" he muttered to himself. "I must be in a queer way to be taken +like that. It won't do!--especially at this turn. What is it?" he +demanded, going to the telephone. "Who is that?" + +His daughter's voice, surprised and admonitory, came to him along the +wire. + +"Is that you, father?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Don't you +remember you asked Windle, and his friend Mr. Brereton, to supper at +eight o'clock. It's a quarter to eight now. Do come home!" + +Cotherstone let out an exclamation which signified annoyance. The event +of the late afternoon had completely driven it out of his recollection +that Windle Bent had an old school-friend, a young barrister from +London, staying with him, and that both had been asked to supper that +evening at Cotherstone's house. But Cotherstone's annoyance was not +because of his own forgetfulness, but because his present abstraction +made him dislike the notion of company. + +"I'd forgotten--for the moment," he called. "I've been very busy. All +right, Lettie--I'm coming on at once. Shan't be long." + +But when he had left the telephone he made no haste. He lingered by his +desk; he was slow in turning out the gas; slow in quitting and locking +up his office; he went slowly away through the town. Nothing could have +been further from his wishes than a desire to entertain company that +night--and especially a stranger. His footsteps dragged as he passed +through the market-place and turned into the outskirts beyond. + +Some years previously to this, when they had both married and made +money, the two partners had built new houses for themselves. Outside +Highmarket, on its western boundary, rose a long, low hill called +Highmarket Shawl; the slope which overhung the town was thickly covered +with fir and pine, amidst which great masses of limestone crag jutted +out here and there. At the foot of this hill, certain plots of building +land had been sold, and Mallalieu had bought one and Cotherstone +another, and on these they had erected two solid stone houses, fitted up +with all the latest improvements known to the building trade. Each was +proud of his house; each delighted in welcoming friends and +acquaintances there--this was the first night Cotherstone could remember +on which it was hateful to him to cross his own threshold. The lighted +windows, the smell of good things cooked for supper, brought him no +sense of satisfaction; he had to make a distinct effort to enter and to +present a face of welcome to his two guests, who were already there, +awaiting him. + +"Couldn't get in earlier," he said, replying to Lettie's half-anxious, +half-playful scoldings. "There was some awkward business turned up this +evening--and as it is, I shall have to run away for an hour after +supper--can't be helped. How do you do, sir?" he went on, giving his +hand to the stranger. "Glad to see you in these parts--you'll find this +a cold climate after London, I'm afraid." + +He took a careful look at Bent's friend as they all sat down to +supper--out of sheer habit of inspecting any man who was new to him. And +after a glance or two he said to himself that this young limb of the law +was a sharp chap--a keen-eyed, alert, noticeable fellow, whose every +action and tone denoted great mental activity. He was sharper than Bent, +said Cotherstone, and in his opinion, that was saying a good deal. +Bent's ability was on the surface; he was an excellent specimen of the +business man of action, who had ideas out of the common but was not so +much given to deep and quiet thinking as to prompt doing of things +quickly decided on. He glanced from one to the other, mentally comparing +them. Bent was a tall, handsome man, blonde, blue-eyed, ready of word +and laugh; Brereton, a medium-sized, compact fellow, dark of hair and +eye, with an olive complexion that almost suggested foreign origin: the +sort, decided Cotherstone, that thought a lot and said little. And +forcing himself to talk he tried to draw the stranger out, watching him, +too, to see if he admired Lettie. For it was one of Cotherstone's +greatest joys in life to bring folk to his house and watch the effect +which his pretty daughter had on them, and he was rewarded now in seeing +that the young man from London evidently applauded his friend's choice +and paid polite tribute to Lettie's charm. + +"And what might you have been doing with Mr. Brereton since he got down +yesterday?" asked Cotherstone. "Showing him round, of course?" + +"I've been tormenting him chiefly with family history," answered Bent, +with a laughing glance at his sweetheart. "You didn't know I was raking +up everything I could get hold of about my forbears, did you? Oh, I've +been busy at that innocent amusement for a month past--old Kitely put me +up to it." + +Cotherstone could barely repress an inclination to start in his chair; +he himself was not sure that he did not show undue surprise. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Kitely? My tenant? What does he know about your +family? A stranger!" + +"Much more than I do," replied Bent. "The old chap's nothing to do, you +know, and since he took up his abode here he's been spending all his +time digging up local records--he's a good bit of an antiquary, and that +sort of thing. The Town Clerk tells me Kitely's been through nearly all +the old town documents--chests full of them! And Kitely told me one day +that if I liked he'd trace our pedigree back to I don't know when, and +as he seemed keen, I told him to go ahead. He's found out a lot of +interesting things in the borough records that I never heard of." + +Cotherstone had kept his eyes on his plate while Bent was talking; he +spoke now without looking up. + +"Oh?" he said, trying to speak unconcernedly. "Ah!--then you'll have +been seeing a good deal of Kitely lately?" + +"Not so much," replied Bent. "He's brought me the result of his work now +and then--things he's copied out of old registers, and so on." + +"And what good might it all amount to?" asked Cotherstone, more for the +sake of talking than for any interest he felt. "Will it come to aught?" + +"Bent wants to trace his family history back to the Conquest," observed +Brereton, slyly. "He thinks the original Bent came over with the +Conqueror. But his old man hasn't got beyond the Tudor period yet." + +"Never mind!" said Bent. "There were Bents in Highmarket in Henry the +Seventh's time, anyhow. And if one has a pedigree, why not have it +properly searched out? He's a keen old hand at that sort of thing, +Kitely. The Town Clerk says he can read some of our borough charters of +six hundred years ago as if they were newspaper articles." + +Cotherstone made no remark on that. He was thinking. So Kitely was in +close communication with Bent, was he?--constantly seeing him, being +employed by him? Well, that cut two ways. It showed that up to now he +had taken no advantage of his secret knowledge and might therefore be +considered as likely to play straight if he were squared by the two +partners. But it also proved that Bent would probably believe anything +that Kitely might tell him. Certainly Kitely must be dealt with at once. +He knew too much, and was obviously too clever, to be allowed to go +about unfettered. Cost what it might, he must be attached to the +Mallalieu-Cotherstone interest. And what Cotherstone was concentrating +on just then, as he ate and drank, was--how to make that attachment in +such a fashion that Kitely would have no option but to keep silence. If +only he and Mallalieu could get a hold on Kitely, such as that which he +had on them---- + +"Well," he said as supper came to an end, "I'm sorry, but I'm forced to +leave you gentlemen for an hour, at any rate--can't be helped. Lettie, +you must try to amuse 'em until I come back. Sing Mr. Brereton some of +your new songs. Bent--you know where the whisky and the cigars are--help +yourselves--make yourselves at home." + +"You won't be more than an hour, father?" asked Lettie. + +"An hour'll finish what I've got to do," replied Cotherstone, "maybe +less--I'll be as quick as I can, anyway, my lass." + +He hurried off without further ceremony; a moment later and he had +exchanged the warmth and brightness of his comfortable dining-room for +the chill night and the darkness. And as he turned out of his garden he +was thinking still further and harder. So Windle Bent was one of those +chaps who have what folk call family pride, was he? Actually proud of +the fact that he had a pedigree, and could say who his grandfather and +grandmother were?--things on which most people were as hazy as they were +indifferent. In that case, if he was really family-proud, all the more +reason why Kitely should be made to keep his tongue still. For if Windle +Bent was going on the game of making out that he was a man of family, he +certainly would not relish the prospect of uniting his ancient blood +with that of a man who had seen the inside of a prison. +Kitely!--promptly and definitely--and for _good_!--that was the ticket. + +Cotherstone went off into the shadows of the night--and a good hour had +passed when he returned to his house. It was then ten o'clock; he +afterwards remembered that he glanced at the old grandfather clock in +his hall when he let himself in. All was very quiet in there; he opened +the drawing-room door to find the two young men and Lettie sitting over +a bright fire, and Brereton evidently telling the other two some story, +which he was just bringing to a conclusion. + +" ... for it's a fact, in criminal practice," Brereton was saying, "that +there are no end of undiscovered crimes--there are any amount of guilty +men going about free as the air, and----" + +"Hope you've been enjoying yourselves," said Cotherstone, going forward +to the group. "I've been as quick as I could." + +"Mr. Brereton has been telling us most interesting stories about +criminals," said Lettie. "Facts--much stranger than fiction!" + +"Then I'm sure it's time he'd something to refresh himself with," said +Cotherstone hospitably. "Come away, gentlemen, and we'll see if we can't +find a drop to drink and a cigar to smoke." + +He led the way to the dining-room and busied himself in bringing out +some boxes of cigars from a cupboard while Lettie produced decanters and +glasses from the sideboard. + +"So you're interested in criminal matters, sir?" observed Cotherstone as +he offered Brereton a cigar. "Going in for that line, eh?" + +"What practice I've had has been in that line," answered Brereton, with +a quiet laugh. "One sort of gets pitchforked into these things, you +know, so----" + +"What's that?" exclaimed Lettie, who was just then handing the young +barrister a tumbler of whisky and soda which Bent had mixed for him. +"Somebody running hurriedly up the drive--as if something had happened! +Surely you're not going to be fetched out again, father?" + +A loud ringing of the bell prefaced the entrance of some visitor, whose +voice was heard in eager conversation with a parlourmaid in the hall. + +"That's your neighbour--Mr. Garthwaite," said Bent. + +Cotherstone set down the cigars and opened the dining-room door. A +youngish, fresh-coloured man, who looked upset and startled, came out of +the hall, glancing round him inquiringly. + +"Sorry to intrude, Mr. Cotherstone," he said. "I say!--that old +gentleman you let the cottage to--Kitely, you know." + +"What of him?" demanded Cotherstone sharply. + +"He's lying there in the coppice above your house--I stumbled over him +coming through there just now," replied Garthwaite. "He--don't be +frightened, Miss Cotherstone--he's--well, there's no doubt of it--he's +dead! And----" + +"And--what?" asked Cotherstone. "What, man? Out with it!" + +"And I should say, murdered!" said Garthwaite. "I--yes, I just saw +enough to say that. Murdered--without a doubt!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PINE WOOD + + +Brereton, standing back in the room, the cigar which Cotherstone had +just given him unlighted in one hand, the glass which Lettie had +presented to him in the other, was keenly watching the man who had just +spoken and the man to whom he spoke. But all his attention was quickly +concentrated on Cotherstone. For despite a strong effort to control +himself, Cotherstone swayed a little, and instinctively put out a hand +and clutched Bent's arm. He paled, too--the sudden spasm of pallor was +almost instantly succeeded by a quick flush of colour. He made another +effort--and tried to laugh. + +"Nonsense, man!" he said thickly and hoarsely. "Murder? Who should want +to kill an old chap like that? It's--here, give me a drink, one of +you--that's--a bit startling!" + +Bent seized a tumbler which he himself had just mixed, and Cotherstone +gulped off half its contents. He looked round apologetically. + +"I--I think I'm not as strong as I was," he muttered. "Overwork, +likely--I've been a bit shaky of late. A shock like that----" + +"I'm sorry," said Garthwaite, who looked surprised at the effect of his +news. "I ought to have known better. But you see, yours is the nearest +house----" + +"Quite right, my lad, quite right," exclaimed Cotherstone. "You did the +right thing. Here!--we'd better go up. Have you called the police?" + +"I sent the man from the cottage at the foot of your garden," answered +Garthwaite. "He was just locking up as I passed, so I told him, and sent +him off." + +"We'll go," said Cotherstone. He looked round at his guests. "You'll +come?" he asked. + +"Don't you go, father," urged Lettie, "if you're not feeling well." + +"I'm all right," insisted Cotherstone. "A mere bit of weakness--that's +all. Now that I know what's to be faced--" he twisted suddenly on +Garthwaite--"what makes you think it's murder?" he demanded. "Murder! +That's a big word." + +Garthwaite glanced at Lettie, who was whispering to Bent, and shook his +head. + +"Tell you when we get outside," he said. "I don't want to frighten your +daughter." + +"Come on, then," said Cotherstone. He hurried into the hall and snatched +up an overcoat. "Fetch me that lantern out of the kitchen," he called to +the parlourmaid. "Light it! Don't you be afraid, Lettie," he went on, +turning to his daughter. "There's naught to be afraid of--now. You +gentlemen coming with us?" + +Bent and Brereton had already got into their coats: when the maid came +with the lantern, all four men went out. And as soon as they were in +the garden Cotherstone turned on Garthwaite. + +"How do you know he's murdered?" he asked. "How could you tell?" + +"I'll tell you all about it, now we're outside," answered Garthwaite. +"I'd been over to Spennigarth, to see Hollings. I came back over the +Shawl, and made a short cut through the wood. And I struck my foot +against something--something soft, you know--I don't like thinking of +that! And so I struck a match, and looked, and saw this old +fellow--don't like thinking of that, either. He was laid there, a few +yards out of the path that runs across the Shawl at that point. I saw he +was dead--and as for his being murdered, well, all I can say is, he's +been strangled! That's flat." + +"Strangled!" exclaimed Bent. + +"Aye, without doubt," replied Garthwaite. "There's a bit of rope round +his neck that tight that I couldn't put my little finger between it and +him! But you'll see for yourselves--it's not far up the Shawl. You never +heard anything, Mr. Cotherstone?" + +"No, we heard naught," answered Cotherstone. "If it's as you say, +there'd be naught to hear." + +He had led them out of his grounds by a side-gate, and they were now in +the thick of the firs and pines which grew along the steep, somewhat +rugged slope of the Shawl. He put the lantern into Garthwaite's hand. + +"Here--you show the way," he said. "I don't know where it is, of +course." + +"You were going straight to it," remarked Garthwaite. He turned to +Brereton, who was walking at his side. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?" he +asked. "I heard that Mr. Bent had a lawyer friend stopping with him just +now--we hear all the bits of news in a little place like Highmarket. +Well--you'll understand, likely--it hadn't been long done!" + +"You noticed that?" said Brereton. + +"I touched him," replied Garthwaite. "His hand and cheek were--just +warm. He couldn't have been dead so very long--as I judged matters. +And--here he is!" + +He twisted sharply round the corner of one of the great masses of +limestone which cropped out amongst the trees, and turned the light of +the lantern on the dead man. + +"There!" he said in a hushed voice. "There!" + +The four men came to a halt, each gazing steadily at the sight they had +come to see. It needed no more than a glance to assure each that he was +looking on death: there was that in Kitely's attitude which forbade any +other possibility. + +"He's just as I found him," whispered Garthwaite. "I came round this +rock from there, d'ye see, and my foot knocked against his shoulder. +But, you know, he's been dragged here! Look at that!" + +Brereton, after a glance at the body, had looked round at its +surroundings. The wood thereabouts was carpeted--thickly carpeted--with +pine needles; they lay several inches thick beneath the trunks of the +trees; they stretched right up to the edge of the rock. And now, as +Garthwaite turned the lantern, they saw that on this soft carpet there +was a great slur--the murderer had evidently dragged his victim some +yards across the pine needles before depositing him behind the rock. And +at the end of this mark there were plain traces of a struggle--the soft, +easily yielding stuff was disturbed, kicked about, upheaved, but as +Brereton at once recognized, it was impossible to trace footprints in +it. + +"That's where it must have been," said Garthwaite. "You see there's a +bit of a path there. The old man must have been walking along that path, +and whoever did it must have sprung out on him there--where all those +marks are--and when he'd strangled him dragged him here. That's how I +figure it, Mr. Cotherstone." + +Lights were coming up through the wood beneath them, glancing from point +to point amongst the trees. Then followed a murmur of voices, and three +or four men came into view--policemen, carrying their lamps, the man +whom Garthwaite had sent into the town, and a medical man who acted as +police surgeon. + +"Here!" said Bent, as the newcomers advanced and halted irresolutely. +"This way, doctor--there's work for you here--of a sort, anyway. Of +course, he's dead?" + +The doctor had gone forward as soon as he caught sight of the body, and +he dropped on his knees at its side while the others gathered round. In +the added light everybody now saw things more clearly. Kitely lay in a +heap--just as a man would lie who had been unceremoniously thrown down. +But Brereton's sharp eyes saw at once that after he had been flung at +the foot of the mass of rock some hand had disarranged his clothing. His +overcoat and under coat had been torn open, hastily, if not with +absolute violence; the lining of one trousers pocket was pulled out; +there were evidences that his waistcoat had been unbuttoned and its +inside searched: everything seemed to indicate that the murderer had +also been a robber. + +"He's not been dead very long," said the doctor, looking up. "Certainly +not more than three-quarters of an hour. Strangled? Yes!--and by +somebody who has more than ordinary knowledge of how quickly a man may +be killed in that way! Look how this cord is tied--no amateur did that." + +He turned back the neckcloth from the dead man's throat, and showed the +others how the cord had been slipped round the neck in a running-knot +and fastened tightly with a cunning twist. + +"Whoever did this had done the same thing before--probably more than +once," he continued. "No man with that cord round his neck, tightly +knotted like that, would have a chance--however free his hands might be. +He'd be dead before he could struggle. Does no one know anything about +this? No more than that?" he went on, when he had heard what Garthwaite +could tell. "Well, this is murder, anyway! Are there no signs of +anything about here?" + +"Don't you think his clothing looks as if he had been robbed?" said +Brereton, pointing to the obvious signs. "That should be noted before +he's moved." + +"I've noted that, sir," said the police-sergeant, who had bent over the +body while the doctor was examining it. "There's one of his pockets +turned inside out, and all his clothing's been torn open. Robbery, of +course--that's what it's been--murder for the sake of robbery!" + +One of the policemen, having satisfied his curiosity stepped back and +began to search the surroundings with the aid of his lamp. He suddenly +uttered a sharp exclamation. + +"Here's something!" he said, stooping to the foot of a pine-tree and +picking up a dark object. "An old pocket-book--nothing in it, though." + +"That was his," remarked Cotherstone. "I've seen it before. He used to +carry it in an inner pocket. Empty, do you say?--no papers?" + +"Not a scrap of anything," answered the policeman, handing the book over +to his sergeant, and proceeding to search further. "We'd best to see if +there's any footprints about." + +"You'd better examine that path, then," said Garthwaite. "You'll find no +prints on all this pine-needle stuff--naught to go by, anyway--it's too +thick and soft. But he must have come along that path, one way or +another--I've met him walking in here of an evening, more than once." + +The doctor, who had exchanged a word or two with the sergeant, turned to +Cotherstone. + +"Wasn't he a tenant of yours?" he asked. "Had the cottage at the top of +the Shawl here. Well, we'd better have the body removed there, and some +one should go up and warn his family." + +"There's no family," answered Cotherstone. "He'd naught but a +housekeeper--Miss Pett. She's an elderly woman--and not likely to be +startled, from what I've seen of her." + +"I'll go," said Bent. "I know the housekeeper." He touched Brereton's +elbow, and led him away amongst the trees and up the wood. "This is a +strange affair!" he continued when they were clear of the others. "Did +you hear what Dr. Rockcliffe said?--that whoever had done it was +familiar with that sort of thing!" + +"I saw for myself," replied Brereton. "I noticed that cord, and the knot +on it, at once. A man whose neck was tied up like that could be thrown +down, thrown anywhere, left to stand up, if you like, and he'd be +literally helpless, even if, as the doctor said, he had the use of his +hands. He'd be unconscious almost at once--dead very soon afterwards. +Murder?--I should think so!--and a particularly brutal and determined +one. Bent!--whoever killed that poor old fellow was a man of great +strength and of--knowledge! Knowledge, mind you!--he knew the trick. You +haven't any doubtful character in Highmarket who has ever lived in +India, have you?" + +"India! Why India?" asked Bent. + +"Because I should say that the man who did that job has learned some of +the Indian tricks with cords and knots," answered Brereton. "That +murder's suggestive of Thuggeeism in some respects. That the cottage?" +he went on, pointing to a dim light ahead of him. "This housekeeper, +now?--is she the sort who'll take it quietly?" + +"She's as queer a character as the old fellow himself was," replied +Bent, as they cleared the wood and entered a hedge-enclosed garden at +the end of which stood an old-fashioned cottage. "I've talked to her now +and then when calling here--I should say she's a woman of nerve." + +Brereton looked narrowly at Miss Pett when she opened the door. She +carried a tallow candle in one hand and held it high above her head to +throw a light on the callers; its dim rays fell more on herself than on +them. A tall, gaunt, elderly woman, almost fleshless of face, and with a +skin the colour of old parchment, out of which shone a pair of bright +black eyes; the oddity of her appearance was heightened by her +head-dress--a glaring red and yellow handkerchief tightly folded in such +a fashion as to cover any vestige of hair. Her arms, bare to the elbow, +and her hands were as gaunt as her face, but Brereton was quick to +recognize the suggestion of physical strength in the muscles and sinews +under the parchment-like skin. A strange, odd-looking woman altogether, +he thought, and not improved by the fact that she appeared to have lost +all her teeth, and that a long, sharp nose and prominent chin almost met +before her sunken lips. + +"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Bent?" she said, before either of the young +men could speak. "Mr. Kitely's gone out for his regular bedtime +constitution--he will have that, wet or fine, every night. But he's much +longer than usual, and----" + +She stopped suddenly, seeing some news in Bent's face, and her own +contracted to a questioning look. + +"Is there aught amiss?" she asked. "Has something happened him? Aught +that's serious? You needn't be afraid to speak, Mr. Bent--there's +naught can upset or frighten me, let me tell you--I'm past all that!" + +"I'm afraid Mr. Kitely's past everything, too, then," said Bent. He +looked steadily at her for a moment, and seeing that she understood, +went on. "They're bringing him up, Miss Pett--you'd better make ready. +You won't be alarmed--I don't think there's any doubt that he's been +murdered." + +The woman gazed silently at her visitors; then, nodding her turbaned +head, she drew back into the cottage. + +"It's what I expected," she muttered. "I warned him--more than once. +Well--let them bring him, then." + +She vanished into a side-room, and Bent and Brereton went down the +garden and met the others, carrying the dead man. Cotherstone followed +behind the police, and as he approached Bent he pulled him by the sleeve +and drew him aside. + +"There's a clue!" he whispered. "A clue, d'ye hear--a strong clue!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CORD + + +Ever since they had left the house at the foot of the pine wood, +Brereton had been conscious of a curious psychological atmosphere, +centring in Cotherstone. It had grown stronger as events had developed; +it was still stronger now as they stood outside the dead man's cottage, +the light from the open door and the white-curtained window falling on +Cotherstone's excited face. Cotherstone, it seemed to Brereton, was +unduly eager about something--he might almost be said to be elated. All +of his behaviour was odd. He had certainly been shocked when Garthwaite +burst in with the news--but this shock did not seem to be of the +ordinary sort. He had looked like fainting--but when he recovered +himself his whole attitude (so, at any rate, it had seemed to Brereton) +had been that of a man who has just undergone a great relief. To put the +whole thing into a narrow compass, it seemed as if Cotherstone appeared +to be positively pleased to hear--and to find beyond doubt--that Kitely +was dead. And now, as he stood glancing from one young man to the other, +his eyes glittered as if he were absolutely enjoying the affair: he +reminded Brereton of that type of theatre-goer who will insist on +pointing out stage effects as they occur before his eyes, forcing his +own appreciation of them upon fellow-watchers whose eyes are as keen as +his own. + +"A strong clue!" repeated Cotherstone, and said it yet again. "A good +'un! And if it's right, it'll clear matters up." + +"What is it?" asked Bent. He, too, seemed to be conscious that there was +something odd about his prospective father-in-law, and he was gazing +speculatively at him as if in wonder. "What sort of a clue?" + +"It's a wonder it didn't strike me--and you, too--at first," said +Cotherstone, with a queer sound that was half a chuckle. "But as long as +it's struck somebody, eh? One's as good as another. You can't think of +what it is, now?" + +"I don't know what you're thinking about," replied Bent, half +impatiently. + +Cotherstone gave vent to an unmistakable chuckle at that, and he +motioned them to follow him into the cottage. + +"Come and see for yourselves, then," he said. "You'll spot it. But, +anyway--Mr. Brereton, being a stranger, can't be expected to." + +The three men walked into the living-room of the cottage--a good-sized, +open-raftered, old-fashioned place, wherein burnt a bright fire, at +either side of which stood two comfortable armchairs. Before one of +these chairs, their toes pointing upwards against the fender, were a +pair of slippers; on a table close by stood an old lead tobacco-box, +flanked by a church-warden pipe, a spirit decanter, a glass, and a +plate on which were set out sugar and lemon--these Brereton took to be +indicative that Kitely, his evening constitutional over, was in the +habit of taking a quiet pipe and a glass of something warm before going +to bed. And looking round still further he became aware of an open +door--the door into which Miss Pett had withdrawn--and of a bed within +on which Kitely now lay, with Dr. Rockcliffe and the police-sergeant +bending over him. The other policemen stood by the table in the +living-room, and one of them--the man who had picked up the +pocket-book--whispered audibly to Cotherstone as he and his companions +entered. + +"The doctor's taking it off him," he said, with a meaning nod of his +head. "I'll lay aught it's as I say, Mr. Cotherstone." + +"Looks like it," agreed Cotherstone, rubbing his hands. "It certainly +looks like it, George. Sharp of you to notice it, though." + +Brereton took this conversation to refer to the mysterious clue, and his +suspicion was confirmed a moment later. The doctor and the sergeant came +into the living-room, the doctor carrying something in his hand which he +laid down on the centre table in full view of all of them. And Brereton +saw then that he had removed from the dead man's neck the length of grey +cord with which he had been strangled. + +There was something exceedingly sinister in the mere placing of that +cord before the eyes of these living men. It had wrought the death of +another man, who, an hour before, had been as full of vigorous life as +themselves; some man, equally vigorous, had used it as the instrument of +a foul murder. Insignificant in itself, a mere piece of strongly spun +and twisted hemp, it was yet singularly suggestive--one man, at any +rate, amongst those who stood looking at it, was reminded by it that the +murderer who had used it must even now have the fear of another and a +stronger cord before him. + +"Find who that cord belongs to, and you may get at something," suddenly +observed the doctor, glancing at the policemen. "You say it's a +butcher's cord?" + +The man who had just whispered to Cotherstone nodded. + +"It's a pig-killer's cord, sir," he answered. "It's what a pig-killer +fastens the pig down with--on the cratch." + +"A cratch?--what's that?" asked Brereton, who had gone close to the +table to examine the cord, and had seen that, though slender, it was +exceedingly strong, and of closely wrought fibre. "Is it a sort of +hurdle?" + +"That's it, sir," assented the policeman. "It is a sort of hurdle--on +four legs. They lay the pig on it, don't you see, and tie it down with a +cord of this sort--this cord's been used for that--it's greasy with long +use." + +"And it has been cut off a longer piece, of course," said the doctor. +"These cords are of considerable length, aren't they?" + +"Good length, sir--there's a regular coil, like," said the man. He, too, +bent down and looked at the length before him. "This has been cut off +what you might call recent," he went on, pointing to one end. + +"And cut off with a sharp knife, too." + +The police sergeant glanced at the doctor as if asking advice on the +subject of putting his thoughts into words. + +"Well?" said the doctor, with a nod of assent. "Of course, you've got +something in your mind, sergeant?" + +"Well, there is a man who kills pigs, and has such cords as that, lives +close by, doctor," he answered. "You know who I mean--the man they call +Gentleman Jack." + +"You mean Harborough," said the doctor. "Well--you'd better ask him if +he knows anything. Somebody might have stolen one of his cords. But +there are other pig-killers in the town, of course." + +"Not on this side the town, there aren't," remarked another policeman. + +"What is plain," continued the doctor, looking at Cotherstone and the +others, "is that Kitely was strangled by this rope, and that everything +on him of any value was taken. You'd better find out what he had, or was +likely to have, on him, sergeant. Ask the housekeeper." + +Miss Pett came from the inner room, where she had already begun her +preparations for laying out the body. She was as calm as when Bent first +told her of what had occurred, and she stood at the end of the table, +the cord between her and her questioners, and showed no emotion, no +surprise at what had occurred. + +"Can you tell aught about this, ma'am?" asked the sergeant. "You see +your master's met his death at somebody's hands, and there's no doubt +he's been robbed, too. Do you happen to know what he had on him?" + +The housekeeper, who had her arms full of linen, set her burden down on +a clothes-horse in front of the fire before she replied. She seemed to +be thinking deeply, and when she turned round again, it was to shake her +queerly ornamented head. + +"Well, I couldn't say exactly," she answered. "But I shouldn't wonder if +it was a good deal--for such as him, you know. He did carry money on +him--he was never short of money ever since I knew him, and sometimes +he'd a fair amount in his pockets--I know, of course, because he'd pull +it out, loose gold, and silver, and copper, and I've seen him take +bank-notes out of his pocket-book. But he'd be very like to have a good +deal more than usual on him tonight." + +"Why?" asked the sergeant. + +"Because he'd been to the bank this morning to draw his pension money," +replied Miss Pett. "I don't know how much that would be, any more than I +know where it came from. He was a close man--he'd never tell anybody +more than he liked, and he never told me aught about that. But I do know +it was what you'd call a fair amount--for a man that lives in a cottage. +He went to the bank this noon--he always went once a quarter--and he +said this afternoon that he'd go and pay his rent to Mr. Cotherstone +there--" + +"As he did," muttered Cotherstone, "yes--he did that." + +"Well, he'd have all the rest of his money on him," continued the +housekeeper. "And he'd have what he had before, because he'd other money +coming in than that pension. And I tell you he was the sort of man that +carried his money about him--he was foolish that way. And then he'd a +very valuable watch and chain--he told me they were a presentation, and +cost nearly a hundred pounds. And of course, he'd a pocket-book full of +papers." + +"This pocket-book?" asked the sergeant. + +"Aye, that's it, right enough," assented Miss Pett. "But he always had +it bursting with bits of letters and papers. You don't mean to say you +found it empty? You did?--very well then, I'm no fool, and I say that if +he's been murdered, there's been some reason for it altogether apart +from robbing him of what money and things he had on him! Whoever's taken +his papers wanted 'em bad!" + +"About his habits, now?" said the sergeant, ignoring Miss Pett's +suggestion. "Did he go walking on the Shawl every night?" + +"Regular as clock-work," answered the housekeeper. "He used to read and +write a deal at night--then he'd side away all his books and papers, get +his supper, and go out for an hour, walking round and about. Then he'd +come in, put on his slippers--there they are, set down to warm for +him--smoke one pipe, drink one glass of toddy--there's the stuff for +it--and go to bed. He was the regularest man I ever knew, in all he +did." + +"Was he out longer than usual tonight?" asked Bent, who saw that the +sergeant had no more to ask. "You seemed to suggest that, when we +came." + +"Well, he was a bit longer," admitted Miss Pett. "Of course, he varied. +But an hour was about his time. Up and down and about the hill-side he'd +go--in and out of the coppices. I've warned him more than once." + +"But why?" asked Brereton, whose curiosity was impelling him to take a +part in this drama. "What reason had you for warning him?" + +Miss Pett turned and looked scrutinizingly at her last questioner. She +took a calm and close observation of him and her curious face relaxed +into something like a smile. + +"I can tell what you are, mister," she said. "A law gentleman! I've seen +your sort many a time. And you're a sharp 'un, too! Well--you're young, +but you're old enough to have heard a thing or two. Did you never hear +that women have got what men haven't--instinct?" + +"Do you really tell me that the only reason you had for warning him +against going out late at night was--instinct?" asked Brereton. "Come, +now!" + +"Mostly instinct, anyhow," she answered. "Women have a sort of feeling +about things that men haven't--leastways, no men that I've ever met had +it. But of course, I'd more than that. Mr. Kitely, now, he was a +townsman--a London man. I'm a countrywoman. He didn't understand--you +couldn't get him to understand--that it's not safe to go walking in +lonely places in country districts like this late at night. When I'd got +to know his habits, I expostulated with him more than once. I pointed +out to him that in spots like this, where there's naught nearer than +them houses at the foot of the hill one way, and Harborough's cottage +another way, and both of 'em a good quarter of a mile off, and where +there's all these coverts and coppices and rocks, it was not safe for an +elderly man who sported a fine gold watch and chain to go wandering +about in the darkness. There's always plenty of bad characters in +country places who'd knock the King himself on the head for the sake of +as much as Mr. Kitely had on him, even if it was no more than the chain +which every Tom and Dick could see! And it's turned out just as I +prophesied. He's come to it!" + +"But you said just now that he must have been murdered for something +else than his valuables," said Brereton. + +"I said that if his papers were gone, somebody must have wanted them +bad," retorted Miss Pett. "Anyway, what's happened is just what I felt +might happen, and there he is--dead. And I should be obliged to some of +you if you'd send up a woman or two to help me lay him out, for I can't +be expected to do everything by myself, nor to stop in this cottage +alone, neither!" + +Leaving the doctor and a couple of policemen to arrange matters with the +housekeeper, the sergeant went outside, followed by the others. He +turned to Cotherstone. + +"I'm going down to Harborough's cottage, at the other end of the Shawl," +he said. "I don't expect to learn aught much there--yet--but I can see +if he's at home, anyway. If any of you gentlemen like to come down----" + +Bent laid a hand on Cotherstone's arm and turned him in the direction of +his house. + +"Brereton and I'll go with the sergeant," he said. "You must go +home--Lettie'll be anxious about things. Go down with him, Mr. +Garthwaite--you'll both hear more later." + +To Brereton's great surprise, Cotherstone made no objection to this +summary dismissal. He and Garthwaite went off in one direction; the +others, led by the observant policeman who had found the empty +pocket-book and recognized the peculiar properties of the cord, turned +away in another. + +"Where's this we're going now?" asked Brereton as he and Bent followed +their leaders through the trees and down the slopes of the Shawl. + +"To John Harborough's cottage--at the other end of the hill," answered +Bent. "He's the man they spoke of in there. He's a queer character--a +professional pig-killer, who has other trades as well. He does a bit of +rat-catching, and a bit of mole-catching--and a good deal of poaching. +In fact, he's an odd person altogether, not only in character but in +appearance. And the curious thing is that he's got an exceedingly +good-looking and accomplished daughter, a really superior girl who's +been well educated and earns her living as a governess in the town. +Queer pair they make if you ever see them together!" + +"Does she live with him?" asked Brereton. + +"Oh yes, she lives with him!" replied Bent. "And I believe that they're +very devoted to each other, though everybody marvels that such a man +should have such a daughter. There's a mystery about that man--odd +character that he is, he's been well bred, and the folk hereabouts call +him Gentleman Jack." + +"Won't all this give the girl a fright?" suggested Brereton. "Wouldn't +it be better if somebody went quietly to the man's cottage?" + +But when they came to Harborough's cottage, at the far end of the Shawl, +it was all in darkness. + +"Still, they aren't gone to bed," suddenly observed the policeman who +had a faculty for seeing things. "There's a good fire burning in the +kitchen grate, and they wouldn't leave that. Must be out, both of 'em." + +"Go in and knock quietly," counselled the sergeant. + +He followed the policeman up the flagged walk to the cottage door, and +the other two presently went after them. In the starlight Brereton +looked round at these new surroundings--an old, thatched cottage, set in +a garden amongst trees and shrubs, with a lean-to shed at one end of it, +and over everything an atmosphere of silence. + +The silence was suddenly broken. A quick, light step sounded on the +flagged path behind them, and the policemen turned their lamps in its +direction. And Brereton, looking sharply round, became aware of the +presence of a girl, who looked at these visitors wonderingly out of a +pair of beautiful grey eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE MAYOR + + +Here, then, thought Brereton, was Gentleman Jack's daughter--the girl of +whom Bent had just been telling him. He looked at her narrowly as she +stood confronting the strange group. A self-possessed young woman, he +said to himself--beyond a little heightening of colour, a little +questioning look about eyes and lips she showed no trace of undue +surprise or fear. Decidedly a good-looking young woman, too, and not at +all the sort of daughter that a man of queer character would be supposed +to have--refined features, an air of breeding, a suggestion of culture. +And he noticed that as he and Bent raised their hats, the two policemen +touched their helmets--they were evidently well acquainted with the +girl, and eyed her with some misgiving as well as respect. + +"Beg pardon, miss," said the sergeant, who was obviously anything but +pleased with his task. "But it's like this, d'you see?--your father, +now, does he happen to be at home?" + +"What is it you want?" she asked. And beginning a glance of inquiry at +the sergeant she finished it at Bent. "Has something happened, Mr. +Bent?" she went on. "If you want my father, and he's not in, then I +don't know where he is--he went out early in the evening, and he hadn't +returned when I left the house an hour ago." + +"I daresay it's nothing," replied Bent. "But the fact is that something +has happened. Your neighbour at the other end of the wood--old Mr. +Kitely, you know--he's been found dead." + +Brereton, closely watching the girl, saw that this conveyed nothing to +her, beyond the mere announcement. She moved towards the door of the +cottage, taking a key from her muff. + +"Yes?" she said. "And--I suppose you want my father to help? He may be +in--he may have gone to bed." + +She unlocked the door, walked into the open living-room, and turning up +a lamp which stood on the table, glanced around her. + +"No," she continued. "He's not come in--so----" + +"Better tell her, Mr. Bent," whispered the sergeant. "No use keeping it +back, sir--she'll have to know." + +"The fact is," said Bent, "Mr. Kitely--we're afraid--has been murdered." + +The girl turned sharply at that; her eyes dilated, and a brighter tinge +of colour came into her cheeks. + +"Murdered!" she exclaimed. "Shot?" + +Her eyes went past Bent to a corner of the room, and Brereton, following +them, saw that there stood a gun, placed amongst a pile of fishing-rods +and similar sporting implements. Her glance rested on it for only the +fraction of a second; then it went back to Bent's face. + +"I'd better tell you everything," said Bent quietly. "Mr. Kitely has +been strangled. And the piece of cord with which it was done is--so the +police here say--just such a piece as might have been cut off one of the +cords which your father uses in his trade, you know." + +"We aren't suggesting aught, you know, Miss Avice," remarked the +sergeant. "Don't go for to think that--at present. But, you see, +Harborough, he might have one o' those cords hanging about somewhere, +and--do you understand?" + +The girl had become very quiet, looking steadily from one man to the +other. Once more her eyes settled on Bent. + +"Do you know why Kitely was killed?" she asked suddenly. "Have you seen +any reason for it?" + +"He had been robbed, after his death," answered Bent. "That seems +absolutely certain." + +"Whatever you may say, you've got some suspicion about my father," she +remarked after a pause. "Well--all I can say is, my father has no need +to rob anybody--far from it, if you want the truth. But what do you +want?" she continued, a little impatiently. "My father isn't in, and I +don't know where he is--often he is out all night." + +"If we could just look round his shed, now?" said the sergeant. "Just to +see if aught's missing, like, you know. You see, miss----" + +"You can look round the shed--and round anywhere else," said Avice. +"Though what good that will do--well, you know where the shed is." + +She turned away and began taking off her hat and coat, and the four men +went out into the garden and turned to the lean-to shed at the end of +the cottage. A tiled verandah ran along the front of cottage and shed, +and the door of the shed was at its further end. But as the sergeant was +about to open it, the policeman of the observant nature made his third +discovery. He had been flashing the light of his bull's-eye lamp over +his surroundings, and he now turned it on a coil of rope which hung from +a nail in the boarded wall of the shed, between the door and the window. + +"There you are, gentlemen!" he said, lifting the lamp in one hand and +pointing triumphantly to a definite point of the coiled cord with the +index finger of the other. "There! Cut clean, too--just like the bit up +yonder!" + +Brereton pressed forward and looked narrowly at what the man was +indicating. There was no doubt that a length of cord had been freshly +cut off the coil, and cut, too, with an unusually sharp, keen-bladed +knife; the edges of the severance were clean and distinct, the separated +strands were fresh and unsoiled. It was obvious that a piece of that +cord had been cut from the rest within a very short time, and the +sergeant shook his head gravely as he took the coil down from its nail. + +"I don't think there's any need to look round much further, Mr. Bent," +he said. "Of course, I shall take this away with me, and compare it with +the shorter piece. But we'll just peep into this shed, so as to make +his daughter believe that was what we wanted: I don't want to frighten +her more than we have done. Naught there, you see," he went on, opening +the shed door and revealing a whitewashed interior furnished with +fittings and articles of its owner's trade. "Well, we'll away--with what +we've got." + +He went back to the door of the cottage and putting his head inside +called gently to its occupant. + +"Well?" demanded Avice. + +"All right, miss--we're going," said the sergeant. "But if your father +comes in, just ask him to step down to the police-station, d'you see?--I +should like to have a word or two with him." + +The girl made no answer to this gentle request, and when the sergeant +had joined the others, she shut the door of the cottage, and Brereton +heard it locked and bolted. + +"That's about the strangest thing of all!" he said as he and Bent left +the policemen and turned down a by-lane which led towards the town. "I +haven't a doubt that the piece of cord with which Kitely was strangled +was cut off that coil! Now what does it mean? Of course, to me it's the +very surest proof that this man Harborough had nothing to do with the +murder." + +"Why?" asked Bent. + +"Why? My dear fellow!" exclaimed Brereton. "Do you really think that any +man who was in possession of his senses would do such a thing? Take a +piece of cord from a coil--leave the coil where anybody could find +it--strangle a man with the severed piece and leave it round the +victim's neck? Absurd! No--a thousand times no!" + +"Well--and what then?" asked Bent. + +"Ah! Somebody cut that piece off--for the use it was put to," answered +Brereton. "But--who?" + +Bent made no reply for a while. Then, as they reached the outskirts of +the town, he clapped a hand on his companion's arm. + +"You're forgetting something--in spite of your legal mind," he said. +"The murderer may have been interrupted before he could remove it. And +in that case----" + +He stopped suddenly as a gate opened in the wall of a garden which they +were just passing, and a tall man emerged. In the light of the adjacent +lamp Bent recognized Mallalieu. Mallalieu, too, recognized him, and +stopped. + +"Oh, that you, Mr. Mayor!" exclaimed Bent. "I was just wondering whether +to drop in on you as I passed. Have you heard what's happened tonight?" + +"Heard naught," replied Mallalieu. "I've just been having a hand at +whist with Councillor Northrop and his wife and daughter. What has +happened, then?" + +They were all three walking towards the town by that time, and Bent +slipped between Brereton and Mallalieu and took the Mayor's arm. + +"Murder's happened," he said. "That's the plain truth of it. You know +old Kitely--your partner's tenant? Well, somebody's killed him." + +The effect of this announcement on Mallalieu was extraordinary. Bent +felt the arm into which he had just slipped his own literally quiver +with a spasmodic response to the astonished brain; the pipe which +Mallalieu was smoking fell from his lips; out of his lips came something +very like a cry of dismay. + +"God bless me!" he exclaimed. "You don't say so?" + +"It's a fact," said Bent. He stopped and picked up the fallen pipe. +"Sorry I let it out so clumsily--I didn't think it would affect you like +that. But there it is--Kitely's been murdered. Strangled!" + +"Strangled!" echoed Mallalieu. "Dear--dear--dear! When was this, now?" + +"Within the hour," replied Bent. "Mr. Brereton here--a friend of mine +from London--and I were spending the evening at your partner's, when +that neighbour of his, Garthwaite, came running in to tell Mr. +Cotherstone that Kitely was lying dead on the Shawl. Of course we all +went up." + +"Then--you've seen him?" demanded Mallalieu. "There's no doubt about +it?" + +"Doubt!" exclaimed Bent. "I should think there is no doubt! As +determined a murder as ever I heard of. No--there's no doubt." + +Mallalieu paused--at the gate of his own house. + +"Come in, gentlemen," he said. "Come in just a minute, anyway. I--egad +it's struck me all of a heap, has that news! Murder?--there hasn't been +such a thing in these parts ever since I came here, near thirty years +ago. Come in and tell me a bit more about it." + +He led the way up a gravelled drive, admitted himself and his visitors +to the house with a latchkey, and turned into a parlour where a fire +burned and a small supper-tray was set out on a table beneath a lamp. + +"All my folks'll have gone to bed," he said. "They go and leave me a +bite of something, you see--I'm often out late. Will you gentlemen have +a sandwich--or a dry biscuit? Well, you'll have a drink, then. And so," +he went on, as he produced glasses from the sideboard, "and so you were +spending the evening with Cotherstone, what?" + +"Well, I can't say that we exactly spent all the evening with him," +answered Bent, "because he had to go out for a good part of it, on +business. But we were with him--we were at his house--when the news +came." + +"Aye, he had to go out, had he?" asked Mallalieu, as if from mere +curiosity. "What time would that be, like? I knew he'd business +tonight--business of ours." + +"Nine to ten, roughly speaking," replied Bent. "He'd just got in when +Garthwaite came with the news." + +"It 'ud shock him, of course," suggested Mallalieu. "His own tenant!" + +"Yes--it was a shock," agreed Bent. He took the glass which his host +handed to him and sat down. "We'd better tell you all about it," he +said. "It's a queer affair--Mr. Brereton here, who's a barrister, thinks +it's a very queer affair." + +Mallalieu nodded and sat down, too, glass in hand. He listened +attentively--and Brereton watched him while he listened. A sleek, sly, +observant, watchful man, this, said Brereton to himself--the sort that +would take all in and give little out. And he waited expectantly to hear +what Mallalieu would say when he had heard everything. + +Mallalieu turned to him when Bent had finished. + +"I agree with you, sir," he said. "Nobody but a fool would have cut that +piece of cord off, left it round the man's neck, and left the coil +hanging where anybody could find it. And that man Harborough's no fool! +This isn't his job, Bent. No!" + +"Whose, then?" asked Bent. + +Mallalieu suddenly drank off the contents of his glass and rose. + +"As I'm chief magistrate, I'd better go down to see the police," he +said. "There's been a queer character or two hanging about the town of +late. I'd better stir 'em up. You won't come down, I suppose?" he +continued when they left the house together. + +"No--we can do no good," answered Bent. + +His own house was just across the road from Mallalieu's, and he and +Brereton said goodnight and turned towards it as the Mayor strode +quickly off in the direction of the police-station. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +NIGHT WORK + + +From the little colony of new houses at the foot of the Shawl to the +police station at the end of the High Street was only a few minutes' +walk. Mallalieu was a quick walker, and he covered this distance at his +top speed. But during those few minutes he came to a conclusion, for he +was as quick of thought as in the use of his feet. + +Of course, Cotherstone had killed Kitely. That was certain. He had begun +to suspect that as soon as he heard of the murder; he became convinced +of it as soon as young Bent mentioned that Cotherstone had left his +guests for an hour after supper. Without a doubt Cotherstone had lost +his head and done this foolish thing! And now Cotherstone must be +protected, safe-guarded; heaven and earth must be moved lest suspicion +should fall on him. For nothing could be done to Cotherstone without +effect upon himself--and of himself--and of himself Mallalieu meant to +take very good care. Never mind what innocent person suffered, +Cotherstone must go free. + +And the first thing to do was to assume direction of the police, to pull +strings, to engineer matters. No matter how much he believed in +Harborough's innocence, Harborough was the man to go for--at present. +Attention must be concentrated on him, and on him only. +Anything--anything, at whatever cost of morals and honesty to divert +suspicion from that fool of a Cotherstone!--if it were not already too +late. It was the desire to make sure that it was not too late, the +desire to be beforehand, that made Mallalieu hasten to the police. He +knew his own power, he had a supreme confidence in his ability to manage +things, and he was determined to give up the night to the scheme already +seething in his fertile brain rather than that justice should enter upon +what he would consider a wrong course. + +While he sat silently and intently listening to Bent's story of the +crime, Mallalieu, who could think and listen and give full attention to +both mental processes without letting either suffer at the expense of +the other, had reconstructed the murder. He knew Cotherstone--nobody +knew him half as well. Cotherstone was what Mallalieu called deep--he +was ingenious, resourceful, inventive. Cotherstone, in the early hours +of the evening, had doubtless thought the whole thing out. He would be +well acquainted with his prospective victim's habits. He would know +exactly when and where to waylay Kitely. The filching of the piece of +cord from the wall of Harborough's shed was a clever thing--infernally +clever, thought Mallalieu, who had a designing man's whole-hearted +admiration for any sort of cleverness in his own particular line. It +would be an easy thing to do--and what a splendidly important thing! Of +course Cotherstone knew all about Harborough's arrangements--he would +often pass the pig-killer's house--from the hedge of the garden he would +have seen the coils of greased rope hanging from their nails under the +verandah roof, aye, a thousand times. Nothing easier than to slip into +Harborough's garden from the adjacent wood, cut off a length of the +cord, use it--and leave it as a first bit of evidence against a man +whose public record was uncertain. Oh, very clever indeed!--if only +Cotherstone could carry things off, and not allow his conscience to +write marks on his face. And he must help--and innocent as he felt +Harborough to be, he must set things going against Harborough--his life +was as naught, against the Mallalieu-Cotherstone safety. + +Mallalieu walked into the police-station, to find the sergeant just +returned and in consultation with the superintendent, whom he had +summoned to hear his report. Both turned inquiringly on the Mayor. + +"I've heard all about it," said Mallalieu, bustling forward. "Mr. Bent +told me. Now then, where's that cord they talk about?" + +The sergeant pointed to the coil and the severed piece, which lay on a +large sheet of brown paper on a side-table, preparatory to being sealed +up. Mallalieu crossed over and made a short examination of these +exhibits; then he turned to the superintendent with an air of decision. + +"Aught been done?" he demanded. + +"Not yet, Mr. Mayor," answered the superintendent. "We were just +consulting as to what's best to be done." + +"I should think that's obvious," replied Mallalieu. "You must get to +work! Two things you want to do just now. Ring up Norcaster for one +thing, and High Gill Junction for another. Give 'em a description of +Harborough--he'll probably have made for one place or another, to get +away by train. And ask 'em at Norcaster to lend you a few plain-clothes +men, and to send 'em along here at once by motor--there's no train till +morning. Then, get all your own men out--now!--and keep folk off the +paths in that wood, and put a watch on Harborough's house, in case he +should put a bold face on it and come back--he's impudence enough--and +of course, if he comes, they'll take him. Get to all that now--at once!" + +"You think it's Harborough, then?" said the superintendent. + +"I think there's what the law folks call a prymer facy case against +him," replied Mallalieu. "It's your duty to get him, anyway, and if he +can clear himself, why, let him. Get busy with that telephone, and be +particular about help from Norcaster--we're under-staffed here as it +is." + +The superintendent hurried out of his office and Mallalieu turned to the +sergeant. + +"I understood from Mr. Bent," he said, "that that housekeeper of +Kitely's said the old fellow had been to the bank at noon today, to draw +some money? That so?" + +"So she said, your Worship," answered the sergeant. "Some allowance, or +something of that sort, that he drew once a quarter. She didn't know how +much." + +"But she thought he'd have it on him when he was attacked?" asked +Mallalieu. + +"She said he was a man for carrying his money on him always," replied +the sergeant. "We understood from her it was his habit. She says he +always had a good bit on him--as a rule. And of course, if he'd drawn +more today, why, he might have a fair lot." + +"We'll soon find that out," remarked Mallalieu. "I'll step round to the +bank manager and rouse him. Now you get your men together--this is no +time for sleeping. You ought to have men up at the Shawl now." + +"I've left one man at Kitely's cottage, sir, and another about +Harborough's--in case Harborough should come back during the night," +said the sergeant. "We've two more constables close by the station. I'll +get them up." + +"Do it just now," commanded Mallalieu. "I'll be back in a while." + +He hurried out again and went rapidly down the High Street to the +old-fashioned building near the Town Hall in which the one bank of the +little town did its business, and in which the bank manager lived. There +was not a soul about in the street, and the ringing of the bell at the +bank-house door, and the loud knock which Mallalieu gave in supplement +to it, seemed to wake innumerable echoes. And proof as he believed +himself to be against such slight things, the sudden opening of a window +above his head made him jump. + +The startled bank-manager, hurrying down to his midnight visitor in his +dressing-gown and slippers, stood aghast when he had taken the Mayor +within and learned his errand. + +"Certainly!" he said. "Kitely was in the bank today, about noon--I +attended to him myself. That's the second time he's been here since he +came to the town. He called here a day or two after he first took that +house from Mr. Cotherstone--to cash a draft for his quarter's pension. +He told me then who he was. Do you know?" + +"Not in the least," replied Mallalieu, telling the lie all the more +readily because he had been fully prepared for the question to which it +was an answer. "I knew naught about him." + +"He was an ex-detective," said the bank-manager. "Pensioned off, of +course: a nice pension. He told me he'd had--I believe it was getting on +to forty years' service in the police force. Dear, dear, this is a sad +business--and I'm afraid I can tell you a bit more about it." + +"What?" demanded Mallalieu, showing surprise in spite of himself. + +"You mentioned Harborough," said the bank-manager, shaking his head. + +"Well?" said Mallalieu. "What then?" + +"Harborough was at the counter when Kitely took his money," answered the +bank-manager. "He had called in to change a five-pound note." + +The two men looked at each other in silence for a time. Then the +bank-manager shook his head again. + +"You wouldn't think that a man who has a five-pound note of his own to +change would be likely, to murder another man for what he could get," he +went on. "But Kitely had a nice bit of money to carry away, and he wore +a very valuable gold watch and chain, which he was rather fond of +showing in the town, and----eh?" + +"It's a suspicious business," said Mallalieu. "You say Harborough saw +Kitely take his money?" + +"Couldn't fail," replied the bank-manager. "He was standing by him. The +old man put it--notes and gold--in a pocket that he had inside his +waistcoat." + +Mallalieu lingered, as if in thought, rubbing his chin and staring at +the carpet. "Well, that's a sort of additional clue," he remarked at +last. "It looks very black against Harborough." + +"We've the numbers of the notes that I handed to Kitely," observed the +bank-manager. "They may be useful if there's any attempt to change any +note, you know." + +Mallalieu shook his head. + +"Aye, just so," he answered. "But I should say there won't be--just yet. +It's a queer business, isn't it--but, as I say, there's evidence against +this fellow, and we must try to get him." + +He went out then and crossed the street to the doctor's house--while he +was about it, he wanted to know all he could. And with the doctor he +stopped much longer than he had stopped at the bank, and when he left +him he was puzzled. For the doctor said to him what he had said to +Cotherstone and to Bent and to the rest of the group in the wood--that +whoever had strangled Kitely had had experience in that sort of grim +work before--or else he was a sailorman who had expert knowledge of +tying knots. Now Mallalieu was by that time more certain than ever that +Cotherstone was the murderer, and he felt sure that Cotherstone had no +experience of that sort of thing. + +"Done with a single twist and a turn!" he muttered to himself as he +walked back to the police-station. "Aye--aye!--that seems to show +knowledge. But it's not my business to follow that up just now--I know +what my business is--nobody better." + +The superintendent and the sergeant were giving orders to two +sleepy-eyed policemen when Mallalieu rejoined them. He waited until the +policemen had gone away to patrol the Shawl and then took the +superintendent aside. + +"I've heard a bit more incriminatory news against Harborough," he said. +"He was in the bank this morning--or yesterday morning, as it now +is--when Kitely drew his money. There may be naught in that--and there +may be a lot. Anyway, he knew the old man had a goodish bit on him." + +The superintendent nodded, but his manner was doubtful. + +"Well, of course, that's evidence--considering things," he said, "but +you know as well as I do, Mr. Mayor, that Harborough's not a man that's +ever been in want of money. It's the belief of a good many folks in the +town that he has money of his own: he's always been a bit of a mystery +ever since I can remember. He could afford to give that daughter of his +a good education--good as a young lady gets--and he spends plenty, and I +never heard of him owing aught. Of course, he's a queer lot--we know +he's a poacher and all that, but he's so skilful about it that we've +never been able to catch him. I can't think he's the guilty party--and +yet----" + +"You can't get away from the facts," said Mallalieu. "He'll have to be +sought for. If he's made himself scarce--if he doesn't come home----" + +"Ah, that 'ud certainly be against him!" agreed the superintendent. +"Well, I'm doing all I can. We've got our own men out, and there's three +officers coming over from Norcaster by motor--they're on the way now." + +"Send for me if aught turns up," said Mallalieu. + +He walked slowly home, his brain still busy with possibilities and +eventualities. And within five minutes of his waking at his usual hour +of six it was again busy--and curious. For he and Cotherstone, both keen +business men who believed in constant supervision of their workmen, were +accustomed to meet at the yard at half-past six every morning, summer or +winter, and he was wondering what his partner would say and do--and look +like. + +Cotherstone was in the yard when Mallalieu reached it. He was giving +some orders to a carter, and he finished what he was doing before coming +up to Mallalieu. In the half light of the morning he looked pretty much +as usual--but Mallalieu noticed a certain worn look under his eyes and +suppressed nervousness in his voice. He himself remained silent and +observant, and he let Cotherstone speak first. + +"Well?" said Cotherstone, coming close to him as they stood in a vacant +space outside the office. "Well?" + +"Well?" responded Mallalieu. + +Cotherstone began to fidget with some account books and papers that he +had brought from his house. He eyed his partner with furtive glances; +Mallalieu eyed him with steady and watchful ones. + +"I suppose you've heard all about it?" said Cotherstone, after an +awkward silence. + +"Aye!" replied Mallalieu, drily. "Aye, I've heard." + +Cotherstone looked round. There was no one near him, but he dropped his +voice to a whisper. + +"So long as nobody but him knew," he muttered, giving Mallalieu another +side glance, "so long as he hadn't said aught to anybody--and I don't +think he had--we're--safe." + +Mallalieu was still staring quietly at Cotherstone. And Cotherstone +began to grow restless under that steady, questioning look. + +"Oh?" observed Mallalieu, at last. "Aye? You think so? Ah!" + +"Good God--don't you!" exclaimed Cotherstone, roused to a sudden anger. +"Why----" + +But just then a policeman came out of the High Street into the yard, +caught sight of the two partners, and came over to them, touching his +helmet. + +"Can your Worship step across the way?" he asked. "They've brought +Harborough down, and the Super wants a word with you." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE + + +Instead of replying to the policeman by word or movement, Mallalieu +glanced at Cotherstone. There was a curious suggestion in that glance +which Cotherstone did not like. He was already angry; Mallalieu's +inquiring look made him still angrier. + +"Like to come?" asked Mallalieu, laconically. + +"No!" answered Cotherstone, turning towards the office. "It's naught to +me." + +He disappeared within doors, and Mallalieu walked out of the yard into +the High Street--to run against Bent and Brereton, who were hurrying in +the direction of the police-station, in company with another constable. + +"Ah!" said Mallalieu as they met. "So you've heard, too, I suppose? +Heard that Harborough's been taken, I mean. Now, how was he taken?" he +went on, turning to the policeman who had summoned him. "And when, and +where?--let's be knowing about it." + +"He wasn't taken, your Worship," replied the man. "Leastways, not in +what you'd call the proper way. He came back to his house half an hour +or so ago--when it was just getting nicely light--and two of our men +that were there told him what was going on, and he appeared to come +straight down with them. He says he knows naught, your Worship." + +"That's what you'd expect," remarked Mallalieu, drily. "He'd be a fool +if he said aught else." + +He put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, and, followed by the +others, strolled into the police-station as if he were dropping in on +business of trifling importance. And there was nothing to be seen there +which betokened that a drama of life and death was being constructed in +that formal-looking place of neutral-coloured walls, precise furniture, +and atmosphere of repression. Three or four men stood near the +superintendent's desk; a policeman was writing slowly and laboriously on +a big sheet of blue paper at a side-table, a woman was coaxing a +sluggish fire to burn. + +"The whole thing's ridiculous!" said a man's scornful voice. "It +shouldn't take five seconds to see that." + +Brereton instinctively picked out the speaker. That was Harborough, of +course--the tall man who stood facing the others and looking at them as +if he wondered how they could be as foolish as he evidently considered +them to be. He looked at this man with great curiosity. There was +certainly something noticeable about him, he decided. A wiry, alert, +keen-eyed man, with good, somewhat gipsy-like features, much tanned by +the weather, as if he were perpetually exposed to sun and wind, rain and +hail; sharp of movement, evidently of more than ordinary intelligence, +and, in spite of his rough garments and fur cap, having an indefinable +air of gentility and breeding about him. Brereton had already noticed +the pitch and inflection of his voice; now, as Harborough touched his +cap to the Mayor, he noticed that his hands, though coarsened and +weather-browned, were well-shaped and delicate. Something about him, +something in his attitude, the glance of his eye, seemed to indicate +that he was the social superior of the policemen, uniformed or +plain-clothed, who were watching him with speculative and slightly +puzzled looks. + +"Well, and what's all this, now?" said Mallalieu coming to a halt and +looking round. "What's he got to say, like?" + +The superintendent looked at Harborough and nodded. And Harborough took +that nod at its true meaning, and he spoke--readily. + +"This!" he said, turning to the new-comers, and finally addressing +himself to Mallalieu. "And it's what I've already said to the +superintendent here. I know nothing about what's happened to Kitely. I +know no more of his murder than you do--not so much, I should say--for I +know naught at all beyond what I've been told. I left my house at eight +o'clock last night--I've been away all night--I got back at six o'clock +this morning. As soon as I heard what was afoot, I came straight here. I +put it to you, Mr. Mayor--if I'd killed this old man, do you think I'd +have come back? Is it likely?" + +"You might ha' done, you know," answered Mallalieu. "There's no +accounting for what folks will do--in such cases. But--what else? Say +aught you like--it's all informal, this." + +"Very well," continued Harborough. "They tell me the old man was +strangled by a piece of cord that was evidently cut off one of my coils. +Now, is there any man in his common senses would believe that if I did +that job, I should leave such a bit of clear evidence behind me? I'm not +a fool!" + +"You might ha' been interrupted before you could take that cord off his +neck," suggested Mallalieu. + +"Aye--but you'd have to reckon up the average chances of that!" +exclaimed Harborough, with a sharp glance at the bystanders. "And the +chances are in my favour. No, sir!--whoever did this job, cut that +length of cord off my coil, which anybody could get at, and used it to +throw suspicion on me! That's the truth--and you'll find it out some +day, whatever happens now." + +Mallalieu exchanged glances with the superintendent and then faced +Harborough squarely, with an air of inviting confidence. + +"Now, my lad!" he said, almost coaxingly. "There's a very simple thing +to do, and it'll clear this up as far as you're concerned. Just answer a +plain question. Where ha' you been all night?" + +A tense silence fell--broken by the crackling of the wood in the grate, +which the charwoman had at last succeeded in stirring into a blaze, and +by the rattling of the fire-irons which she now arranged in the fender. +Everybody was watching the suspected man, and nobody as keenly as +Brereton. And Brereton saw that a deadlock was at hand. A strange look +of obstinacy and hardness came into Harborough's eyes, and he shook his +head. + +"No!" he answered. "I shan't say! The truth'll come out in good time +without that. It's not necessary for me to say. Where I was during the +night is my business--nobody else's." + +"You'll not tell?" asked Mallalieu. + +"I shan't tell," replied Harborough. + +"You're in danger, you know," said Mallalieu. + +"In your opinion," responded Harborough, doggedly. "Not in mine! There's +law in this country. You can arrest me, if you like--but you'll have +your work set to prove that I killed yon old man. No, sir! But----" here +he paused, and looking round him, laughed almost maliciously "--but I'll +tell you what I'll do," he went on. "I'll tell you this, if it'll do you +any good--if I liked to say the word, I could prove my innocence down to +the ground! There!" + +"And you won't say that word?" asked Mallalieu. + +"I shan't! Why? Because it's not necessary. Why!" demanded Harborough, +laughing with an expresssion of genuine contempt. "What is there against +me? Naught! As I say, there's law in this country--there's such a thing +as a jury. Do you believe that any jury would convict a man on what +you've got? It's utter nonsense!" + +The constable who had come down from the Shawl with Bent and Brereton +had for some time been endeavouring to catch the eye of the +superintendent. Succeeding in his attempts at last, he beckoned that +official into a quiet corner of the room, and turning his back on the +group near the fireplace, pulled something out of his pocket. The two +men bent over it, and the constable began to talk in whispers. + +Mallalieu meanwhile was eyeing Harborough in his stealthy, steady +fashion. He looked as if he was reckoning him up. + +"Well, my lad," he observed at last. "You're making a mistake. If you +can't or won't tell what you've been doing with yourself between eight +last night and six this morning, why, then----" + +The superintendent came back, holding something in his hand. He, too, +looked at Harborough. + +"Will you hold up your left foot?--turn the sole up," he asked. "Just to +see--something." + +Harborough complied, readily, but with obvious scornful impatience. And +when he had shown the sole of the left foot, the superintendent opened +his hand and revealed a small crescent-shaped bit of bright steel. + +"That's off the toe of your boot, Harborough," he said. "You know it is! +And it's been picked up--just now, as it were--where this affair +happened. You must have lost it there during the last few hours, because +it's quite bright--not a speck of rust on it, you see. What do you say +to that, now?" + +"Naught!" retorted Harborough, defiantly. "It is mine, of course--I +noticed it was working loose yesterday. And if it was picked up in that +wood, what then? I passed through there last night on my way to--where I +was going. God--you don't mean to say you'd set a man's life on bits +o'things like that!" + +Mallalieu beckoned the superintendent aside and talked with him. Almost +at once he himself turned away and left the room, and the +superintendent came back to the group by the fireplace. + +"Well, there's no help for it, Harborough," he said. "We shall have to +detain you--and I shall have to charge you, presently. It can't be +helped--and I hope you'll be able to clear yourself." + +"I expected nothing else," replied Harborough. "I'm not blaming you--nor +anybody. Mr. Bent," he continued, turning to where Bent and Brereton +stood a little apart. "I'd be obliged to you if you'd do something for +me. Go and tell my daughter about this, if you please! You see, I came +straight down here--I didn't go into my house when I got back. If you'd +just step up and tell her--and bid her not be afraid--there's naught to +be afraid of, as she'll find--as everybody'll find." + +"Certainly," said Bent. "I'll go at once." He tapped Brereton on the +arm, and led him out into the street. "Well?" he asked, when they were +outside. "What do you think of that, now?" + +"That man gives one all the suggestion of innocence," remarked Brereton, +thoughtfully, "and from a merely superficial observation of him, I, +personally, should say he is innocent. But then, you know, I've known +the most hardened and crafty criminals assume an air of innocence, and +keep it up, to the very end. However, we aren't concerned about that +just now--the critical point here, for Harborough, at any rate, is the +evidence against him." + +"And what do you think of that?" asked Bent. + +"There's enough to warrant his arrest," answered Brereton, "and he'll be +committed on it, and he'll go for trial. All that's certain--unless +he's a sensible man, and tells what he was doing with himself between +eight and ten o'clock last night." + +"Ah, and why doesn't he?" said Bent. "He must have some good reason. I +wonder if his daughter can persuade him?" + +"Isn't that his daughter coming towards us?" inquired Brereton. + +Bent glanced along the road and saw Avice Harborough at a little +distance, hastening in their direction and talking earnestly to a +middle-aged man who was evidently listening with grave concern to what +she said. + +"Yes, that's she," he replied, "and that's Northrop with her--the man +that Mallalieu was playing cards with last night. She's governess to +Northrop's two younger children--I expect she's heard about her father, +and has been to get Northrop to come down with her--he's a magistrate." + +Avice listened with ill-concealed impatience while Bent delivered his +message. He twice repeated Harborough's injunction that she was not to +be afraid, and her impatience increased. + +"I'm not afraid," she answered. "That is, afraid of nothing but my +father's obstinacy! I know him. And I know that if he's said he won't +tell anything about his whereabouts last night, he won't! And if you +want to help him--as you seem to do--you must recognize that." + +"Wouldn't he tell you?" suggested Brereton. + +The girl shook her head. + +"Once or twice a year," she answered, "he goes away for a night, like +that, and I never know--never have known--where he goes. There's some +mystery about it--I know there is. He won't tell--he'll let things go to +the last, and even then he won't tell. You won't be able to help him +that way--there's only one way you can help." + +"What way?" asked Bent. + +"Find the murderer!" exclaimed Avice with a quick flash of her eyes in +Brereton's direction. "My father is as innocent as I am--find the man +who did it and clear him that way. Don't wait for what these police +people do--they'll waste time over my father. Do something! They're all +on the wrong track--let somebody get on the right one!" + +"She's right!" said Northrop, a shrewd-faced little man, who looked +genuinely disturbed. "You know what police are, Mr. Bent--if they get +hold of one notion they're deaf to all others. While they're +concentrating on Harborough, you know, the real man'll be going +free--laughing in his sleeve, very like." + +"But--what are we to do?" asked Bent. "What are we to start on?" + +"Find out about Kitely himself!" exclaimed Avice. "Who knows anything +about him? He may have had enemies--he may have been tracked here. Find +out if there was any motive!" She paused and looked half appealingly, +half-searchingly at Brereton. "I heard you're a barrister--a clever +one," she went on, hesitating a little. "Can't--can't you suggest +anything?" + +"There's something I'll suggest at once," responded Brereton +impulsively. "Whatever else is done, your father's got to be defended. +I'll defend him--to the best of my ability--if you'll let me--and at no +cost to him." + +"Well spoken, sir!" exclaimed Northrop. "That's the style!" + +"But we must keep to legal etiquette," continued Brereton, smiling at +the little man's enthusiasm. "You must go to a solicitor and tell him to +instruct me--it's a mere form. Mr. Bent will take you to his solicitor, +and he'll see me. Then I can appear in due form when they bring your +father before the magistrates. Look here, Bent," he went on, wishing to +stop any expression of gratitude from the girl, "you take Miss +Harborough to your solicitor--if he isn't up, rouse him out. Tell him +what I propose to do, and make an appointment with him for me. Now run +along, both of you--I want to speak to this gentleman a minute." + +He took Northrop's arm, turned him in the direction of the Shawl, walked +him a few paces, and then asked him a direct question. + +"Now, what do you know of this man Harborough?" + +"He's a queer chap--a mystery man, sir," answered Northrop. "A sort of +jack-of-all-trades. He's a better sort--you'd say, to hear him talk, +he'd been a gentleman. You can see what his daughter is--he educated her +well. He's means of some sort--apart from what he earns. Yes, there's +some mystery about that man, sir--but I'll never believe he did this +job. No, sir!" + +"Then we must act on the daughter's suggestion and find out who did," +observed Brereton. "There is as much mystery about that as about +Harborough." + +"All mystery, sir!" agreed Northrop. "It's odd--I came through them +woods on the Shawl there about a quarter to ten last night: I'd been +across to the other side to see a man of mine that's poorly in bed. Now, +I never heard aught, never saw aught--but then, it's true I was +hurrying--I'd made an appointment for a hand at whist with the Mayor at +my house at ten o'clock, and I thought I was late. I never heard a +sound--not so much as a dead twig snap! But then, it would ha' been +before that--at some time." + +"Yes, at some time," agreed Brereton. "Well,--I'll see you in court, no +doubt." + +He turned back, and followed Bent and Avice at a distance, watching them +thoughtfully. + +"At some time?" he mused. "Um! Well, I'm now conversant with the +movements of two inhabitants of Highmarket at a critical period of last +night. Mallalieu didn't go to cards with Northrop until ten o'clock, and +at ten o'clock Cotherstone returned to his house after being absent--one +hour." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ANTECEDENTS + + +During the interval which elapsed between these early morning +proceedings and the bringing up of Harborough before the borough +magistrates in a densely-packed court, Brereton made up his mind as to +what he would do. He would act on Avice Harborough's suggestion, and, +while watching the trend of affairs on behalf of the suspected man, +would find out all he could about the murdered one. At that moment--so +far as Brereton knew--there was only one person in Highmarket who was +likely to know anything about Kitely: that person, of course, was the +queer-looking housekeeper. He accordingly determined, even at that early +stage of the proceedings, to have Miss Pett in the witness-box. + +Harborough, who had been formally arrested and charged by the police +after the conversation at the police-station, was not produced in court +until eleven o'clock, by which time the whole town and neighbourhood +were astir with excitement. Somewhat to Brereton's surprise, the +prosecuting counsel, who had been hastily fetched from Norcaster and +instructed on the way, went more fully into the case than was usual. +Brereton had expected that the police would ask for an adjournment +after the usual evidence of the superficial facts, and of the prisoner's +arrest, had been offered; instead of that, the prosecution brought +forward several witnesses, and amongst them the bank-manager, who said +that when he cashed Kitely's draft for him the previous morning, in +Harborough's presence, he gave Kitely the one half of the money in gold. +The significance of this evidence immediately transpired: a constable +succeeded the bank-manager and testified that after searching the +prisoner after his arrest he found on him over twenty pounds in +sovereigns and half-sovereigns, placed in a wash-leather bag. + +Brereton immediately recognized the impression which this evidence made. +He saw that it weighed with the half-dozen solid and slow-thinking men +who sat on one side or the other of Mallalieu on the magisterial bench; +he felt the atmosphere of suspicion which it engendered in the court. +But he did nothing: he had already learned sufficient from Avice in a +consultation with her and Bent's solicitor to know that it would be very +easy to prove to a jury that it was no unusual thing for Harborough to +carry twenty or thirty pounds in gold on him. Of all these witnesses +Brereton asked scarcely anything--but he made it clear that when +Harborough was met near his cottage at daybreak that morning by two +constables who informed him of what had happened, he expressed great +astonishment, jeered at the notion that he had had anything to do with +the murder, and, without going on to his own door, offered voluntarily +to walk straight to the police-station. + +But when Miss Pett--who had discarded her red and yellow turban, and +appeared in rusty black garments which accentuated the old-ivory tint of +her remarkable countenance--had come into the witness-box and answered a +few common-place questions as to the dead man's movements on the +previous evening, Brereton prepared himself for the episode which he +knew to be important. Amidst a deep silence--something suggesting to +everybody that Mr. Bent's sharp-looking London friend was about to get +at things--he put his first question to Miss Pett. + +"How long have you known Mr. Kitely?" + +"Ever since I engaged with him as his housekeeper," answered Miss Pett. + +"How long since is that?" asked Brereton. + +"Nine to ten years--nearly ten." + +"You have been with him, as housekeeper, nearly ten +years--continuously?" + +"Never left him since I first came to him." + +"Where did you first come to him--where did he live then?" + +"In London." + +"Yes--and where, in London?" + +"83, Acacia Grove, Camberwell." + +"You lived with Mr. Kitely at 83, Acacia Grove, Camberwell, from the +time you became his housekeeper until now--nearly ten years in all. So +we may take it that you knew Mr. Kitely very well indeed?" + +"As well as anybody could know--him," replied Miss Pett, grimly. "He +wasn't the sort that's easy to know." + +"Still, you knew him for ten years. Now," continued Brereton, +concentrating his gaze on Miss Pett's curious features, "who and what +was Mr. Kitely?" + +Miss Pett drummed her black-gloved fingers on the edge of the +witness-box and shook her head. + +"I don't know," she answered. "I never have known." + +"But you must have some idea, some notion--after ten years' +acquaintanceship! Come now. What did he do with himself in London? Had +he no business?" + +"He had business," said Miss Pett. "He was out most of the day at it. I +don't know what it was." + +"Never mentioned it to you?" + +"Never in his life." + +"Did you gain no idea of it? For instance, did it take him out at +regular hours?" + +"No, it didn't. Sometimes he'd go out very early--sometimes late--some +days he never went out at all. And sometimes he'd be out at night--and +away for days together. I never asked him anything, of course." + +"Whatever it was, he retired from it eventually?" + +"Yes--just before we came here." + +"Do you know why Mr. Kitely came here?" + +"Well," said Miss Pett, "he'd always said he wanted a nice little place +in the country, and preferably in the North. He came up this way for a +holiday some months since, and when he got back he said he'd found just +the house and neighbourhood to suit him, so, of course, we removed +here." + +"And you have been here--how long?" + +"Just over three months." + +Brereton let a moment or two elapse before he asked his next question, +which was accompanied by another searching inspection of the witness. + +"Do you know anything about Mr. Kitely's relations?" + +"No!" answered Miss Pett. "And for a simple reason. He always said he +had none." + +"He was never visited by anybody claiming to be a relation?" + +"Not during the ten years I knew him." + +"Do you think he had property--money--to leave to anybody?" + +Miss Pett began to toy with the fur boa which depended from her thin +neck. + +"Well--yes, he said he had," she replied hesitatingly. + +"Did you ever hear him say what would become of it at his death?" + +Miss Pett looked round the court and smiled a little. + +"Well," she answered, still more hesitatingly, "he--he always said that +as he'd no relations of his own, he'd leave it to me." + +Brereton leaned a little closer across the table towards the witness-box +and dropped his voice. + +"Do you know if Mr. Kitely ever made a will?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied Miss Pett. "He did." + +"When?" + +"Just before we left London." + +"Do you know the contents of that will?" + +"No!" said Miss Pett. "I do not--so there!" + +"Did you witness it?" + +"No, I didn't." + +"Do you know where it is?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Where is it?" + +"My nephew has it," replied Miss Pett. "He's a solicitor, and he made +it." + +"What is your nephew's name and address?" asked Brereton. + +"Mr. Christopher Pett, 23B Cursitor Street," answered Miss Pett, readily +enough. + +"Have you let him know of Mr. Kitely's death?" + +"Yes. I sent him a telegram first thing this morning." + +"Asking him to bring the will?" + +"No, I did not!" exclaimed Miss Pett, indignantly. "I never mentioned +the will. Mr. Kitely was very fond of my nephew--he considered him a +very clever young man." + +"We shall, no doubt, have the pleasure of seeing your nephew," remarked +Brereton. "Well, now, I want to ask you a question or two about +yourself. What had you been before you became housekeeper to Mr. +Kitely?" + +"Housekeeper to another gentleman!" replied Miss Pett, acidly. + +"Who was he?" + +"Well, if you want to know, he was a Major Stilman, a retired +officer--though what that has----" + +"Where did Major Stilman live?" asked Brereton. + +"He lived at Kandahar Cottage, Woking," replied Miss Pett, who was now +showing signs of rising anger. "But----" + +"Answer my questions, if you please, and don't make remarks," said +Brereton. "Is Major Stilman alive?" + +"No, he isn't--he's dead this ten years," answered Miss Pett. "And if +you're going to ask me any more questions about who and what I am, young +man, I'll save you the trouble. I was with Major Stilman a many years, +and before that I was store-keeper at one London hotel, and linen-keeper +at another, and before that I lived at home with my father, who was a +respectable farmer in Sussex. And what all this has to do with what +we're here for, I should like----" + +"Just give me the names of the two hotels you were at in London, will +you?" asked Brereton. + +"One was the _Royal Belvedere_ in Bayswater, and the other the _Mervyn +Crescent_ in Kensington," replied Miss Pett. "Highly respectable, both +of 'em." + +"And you come originally from--where in Sussex?" + +"Oakbarrow Farm, near Horsham. Do you want to know any----" + +"I shan't trouble you much longer," said Brereton suavely. "But you +might just tell me this--has Mr. Kitely ever had any visitors since he +came to Highmarket?" + +"Only one," answered Miss Pett. "And it was my nephew, who came up for a +week-end to see him on business. Of course, I don't know what the +business was. Mr. Kitely had property in London; house-property, +and----" + +"And your nephew, as his solicitor, no doubt came to see him about it," +interrupted Brereton. "Thank you, Miss Pett--I don't want to trouble you +any more." + +He sat down as the housekeeper left the witness-box--confident that he +had succeeded in introducing a new atmosphere into the case. Already +there were whisperings going on in the crowded court; he felt that these +country folk, always quick to form suspicions, were beginning to ask +themselves if there was not something dark and sinister behind the +mystery of Kitely's murder, and he was callous enough--from a purely +professional standpoint--to care nothing if they began to form ideas +about Miss Pett. For Brereton knew that nothing is so useful in the +breaking-down of one prejudice as to set up another, and his great +object just then was to divert primary prejudice away from his client. +Nevertheless, nothing, he knew well, could at that stage prevent +Harborough's ultimate committal--unless Harborough himself chose to +prove the _alibi_ of which he had boasted. But Harborough refused to do +anything towards that, and when the case had been adjourned for a week, +and the prisoner removed to a cell pending his removal to Norcaster +gaol, a visit from Brereton and Avice in company failed to move him. + +"It's no good, my girl; it's no good, sir," he said, when both had +pleaded with him to speak. "I'm determined! I shall not say where I was +last night." + +"Tell me--in secret--and then leave me to make use of the knowledge, +also in secret," urged Brereton. + +"No, sir--once for all, no!" answered Harborough. "There's no necessity. +I may be kept locked up for a bit, but the truth about this matter'll +come out before ever I'm brought to trial--or ought to be. Leave me +alone--I'm all right. All that bothers me now, my girl, is--you!" + +"Then don't bother," said Avice. "I'm going to stay with Mrs. Northrop. +They've insisted on it." + +Brereton was going out of the cell, leaving father and daughter +together, when he suddenly turned back. + +"You're a man of sense, Harborough," he said. "Come, now--have you got +anything to suggest as to how you can be helped?" + +Harborough smiled and gave his counsel a knowing look. + +"Aye, sir!" he answered. "The best suggestion you could get. If you want +to find out who killed Kitely--go back! Go back, sir--go inch by inch, +through Kitely's life!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE HOLE IN THE THATCH + + +Bent, taking his guest home to dinner after the police-court +proceedings, showed a strong and encouraging curiosity. He, in common +with all the rest of the townsfolk who had contrived to squeeze into the +old court-house, had been immensely interested in Brereton's examination +of Miss Pett. Now he wanted to know what it meant, what it signified, +what was its true relation to the case? + +"You don't mean to say that you suspect that queer old atomy of a +woman!" he exclaimed incredulously as they sat down to Bent's bachelor +table. "And yet--you really looked as if you did--and contrived to throw +something very like it into your voice, too! Man, alive!--half the +Highmarket wiseacres'll be sitting down to their roast mutton at this +minute in the full belief that Miss Pett strangled her master!" + +"Well, and why not?" asked Brereton, coolly. "Surely, if you face facts, +there's just as much reason to suspect Miss Pett as there is to suspect +Harborough. They're both as innocent as you are, in all probability. +Granted there's some nasty evidence against Harborough, there's also the +presumption--founded on words from her own lips--that Miss Pett expects +to benefit by this old man's death. She's a strong and wiry woman, and +you tell me Kitely was getting somewhat enfeebled--she might have killed +him, you know. Murders, my dear fellow, are committed by the most +unlikely people, and for curious reasons: they have been committed by +quite respectable females--like Miss Pett--for nothing but a mere whim." + +"Do you really suspect her?" demanded Bent. "That's what I want to +know." + +"That's what I shan't tell you," replied Brereton, with a good-humoured +laugh. "All I shall tell you is that I believe this murder to be either +an exceedingly simple affair, or a very intricate affair. Wait a +little--wait, for instance, until Mr. Christopher Pett arrives with that +will. Then we shall advance a considerable stage." + +"I'm sorry for Avice Harborough, anyway," remarked Bent, "and it's +utterly beyond me to imagine why her father can't say where he was last +night. I suppose there'd be an end of the case if he'd prove where he +was, eh?" + +"He'd have to account for every minute between nine and ten o'clock," +answered Brereton. "It would be no good, for instance, if we proved to a +jury that from say ten o'clock until five o'clock next morning, +Harborough was at--shall we say your county town, Norcaster. You may say +it would take Harborough an hour to get from here to Norcaster, and an +hour to return, and that would account for his whereabouts between nine +and ten last night, and between five and six this morning. That wouldn't +do--because, according to the evidence, Kitely left his house just +before nine o'clock, and he may have been killed immediately. Supposing +Harborough killed him at nine o'clock precisely, Harborough would even +then be able to arrive in Norcaster by ten. What we want to know, in +order to fully establish Harborough's innocence is--where was he, what +was he doing, from the moment he left his cottage last night until say a +quarter past nine, the latest moment at which, according to what the +doctor said, the murder could have been committed?" + +"Off on one of his poaching expeditions, I suppose," said Bent. + +"No--that's not at all likely," answered Brereton. "There's some very +strange mystery about that man, and I'll have to get at the truth of +it--in spite of his determined reticence! Bent!--I'm going to see this +thing right through! The Norcaster Assizes will be on next month, and of +course Harborough will be brought up then. I shall stop in this +neighbourhood and work out the case--it'll do me a lot of good in all +sorts of ways--experience--work--the interest in it--and the _kudos_ I +shall win if I get my man off--as I will! So I shall unashamedly ask you +to give me house-room for that time." + +"Of course," replied Bent. "The house is yours--only too glad, old chap. +But what a queer case it is! I'd give something, you know, to know what +you really think about it." + +"I've not yet settled in my own mind what I do think about it," said +Brereton. "But I'll suggest a few things to you which you can think over +at your leisure. What motive could Harborough have had for killing +Kitely? There's abundant testimony in the town--from his daughter, from +neighbours, from tradesmen--that Harborough was never short of +money--he's always had more money than most men in his position are +supposed to have. Do you think it likely that he'd have killed Kitely +for thirty pounds? Again--does anybody of sense believe that a man of +Harborough's evident ability would have murdered his victim so clumsily +as to leave a direct clue behind him? Now turn to another side. Is it +not evident that if Miss Pett wanted to murder Kitely she'd excellent +chances of not only doing so, but of directing suspicion to another +person? She knew her master's habits--she knew the surroundings--she +knew where Harborough kept that cord--she is the sort of person who +could steal about as quietly as a cat. If--as may be established by the +will which her nephew has, and of which, in spite of all she affirmed, +or, rather, swore, she may have accurate knowledge--she benefits by +Kitely's death, is there not motive there? Clearly, Miss Pett is to be +suspected!" + +"Do you mean to tell me that she'd kill old Kitely just to get +possession of the bit he had to leave?" asked Bent incredulously. "Come, +now,--that's a stiff proposition." + +"Not to me," replied Brereton. "I've known of a case in which a young +wife carefully murdered an old husband because she was so eager to get +out of the dull life she led with him that she couldn't wait a year or +two for his natural decease; I've heard of a case in which an elderly +woman poisoned her twin-sister, so that she could inherit her share of +an estate and go to live in style at Brighton. I don't want to do Miss +Pett any injustice, but I say that there are grounds for suspecting +her--and they may be widened." + +"Then it comes to this," said Bent. "There are two people under +suspicion: Harborough's suspected by the police--Miss Pett's suspected +by you. And it may be, and probably is, the truth that both are entirely +innocent. In that case, who's the guilty person?" + +"Ah, who indeed?" assented Brereton, half carelessly. "That is a +question. But my duty is to prove that my client is not guilty. And as +you're going to attend to your business this afternoon, I'll do a little +attending to mine by thinking things over." + +When Bent had gone away to the town, Brereton lighted a cigar, stretched +himself in an easy chair in front of a warm fire in his host's +smoking-room, and tried to think clearly. He had said to Bent all that +was in his mind about Harborough and about Miss Pett--but he had said +nothing, had been determined to say nothing, about a curious thought, an +unformed, vague suspicion which was there. It was that as yet formless +suspicion which occupied all his mental powers now--he put Harborough +and Miss Pett clean away from him. + +And as he sat there, he asked himself first of all--why had this curious +doubt about two apparently highly-respectable men of this little, +out-of-the-world town come into his mind? He traced it back to its first +source--Cotherstone. Brereton was a close observer of men; it was his +natural instinct to observe, and he was always giving it a further +training and development. He had felt certain as he sat at supper with +him, the night before, that Cotherstone had something in his thoughts +which was not of his guests, his daughter, or himself. His whole +behaviour suggested pre-occupation, occasional absent-mindedness: once +or twice he obviously did not hear the remarks which were addressed to +him. He had certainly betrayed some curious sort of confusion when +Kitely's name was mentioned. And he had manifested great astonishment, +been much upset, when Garthwaite came in with the news of Kitely's +death. + +Now here came in what Brereton felt to be the all-important, the +critical point of this, his first attempt to think things out. He was +not at all sure that Cotherstone's astonishment on hearing Garthwaite's +announcement was not feigned, was not a piece of pure acting. Why? He +smiled cynically as he answered his own question. The answer +was--_Because when Cotherstone, Garthwaite, Bent, and Brereton set out +from Cotherstone's house to look at the dead man's body, Cotherstone led +the way straight to it_. + +How did Cotherstone know exactly where, in that half-mile of wooded +hill-side, the murder had been committed of which he had only heard five +minutes before? Yet, he led them all to within a few yards of the dead +man, until he suddenly checked himself, thrust the lantern into +Garthwaite's hands and said that of course he didn't know where the body +was! Now might not that really mean, when fully analyzed, that even if +Cotherstone did not kill Kitely himself during the full hour in which +he was absent from his house he knew that Kitely had been killed, and +where--and possibly by whom? + +Anyway, here were certain facts--and they had to be reckoned with. +Kitely was murdered about a quarter-past nine o'clock. Cotherstone was +out of his house from ten minutes to nine o'clock until five minutes to +ten. He was clearly excited when he returned: he was more excited when +he went with the rest of them up the wood. Was it not probable that +under the stress of that excitement he forgot his presence of mind, and +mechanically went straight to the all-important spot? + +So much for that. But there was something more. Mallalieu was +Cotherstone's partner. Mallalieu went to Northrop's house to play cards +at ten o'clock. It might be well to find out, quietly, what Mallalieu +was doing with himself up to ten o'clock. But the main thing was--what +was Cotherstone doing during that hour of absence? And--had Cotherstone +any reason--of his own, or shared with his partner--for wishing to get +rid of Kitely? + +Brereton sat thinking all these things over until he had finished his +cigar; he then left Bent's house and strolled up into the woods of the +Shawl. He wanted to have a quiet look round the scene of the murder. He +had not been up there since the previous evening; it now occurred to him +that it would be well to see how the place looked by daylight. There was +no difficulty about finding the exact spot, even in those close coverts +of fir and pine; a thin line of inquisitive sightseers was threading its +way up the Shawl in front of him, each of its units agog to see the +place where a fellow-being had been done to death. + +But no one could get at the precise scene of the murder. The police had +roped a portion of the coppice off from the rest, and two or three +constables in uniform were acting as guards over this enclosed space, +while a couple of men in plain clothes, whom Brereton by that time knew +to be detectives from Norcaster, were inside it, evidently searching the +ground with great care. Round and about the fenced-in portion stood +townsfolk, young and old, talking, speculating, keenly alive to the +goings-on, hoping that the searchers would find something just then, so +that they themselves could carry some sensational news back to the town +and their own comfortable tea-tables. Most of them had been in or +outside the Court House that morning and recognized Brereton and made +way for him as he advanced to the ropes. One of the detectives +recognized him, too, and invited him to step inside. + +"Found anything?" asked Brereton, who was secretly wondering why the +police should be so foolish as to waste time in a search which was +almost certain to be non-productive. + +"No, sir--we've been chiefly making out for certain where the actual +murder took place before the dead man was dragged behind that rock," +answered the detective. "As far as we can reckon from the disturbance of +these pine needles, the murderer must have sprung on Kitely from behind +that clump of gorse--there where it's grown to such a height--and then +dragged him here, away from that bit of a path. No--we've found +nothing. But I suppose you've heard of the find at Harborough's +cottage?" + +"No!" exclaimed Brereton, startled out of his habitual composure. "What +find?" + +"Some of our people made a search there as soon as the police-court +proceedings were over," replied the detective. "It was the first chance +they'd had of doing anything systematically. They found the bank-notes +which Kitely got at the Bank yesterday evening, and a quantity of +letters and papers that we presume had been in that empty pocket-book. +They were all hidden in a hole in the thatch of Harborough's shed." + +"Where are they?" asked Brereton. + +"Down at the police-station--the superintendent has them," answered the +detective. "He'd show you them, sir, if you care to go down." + +Brereton went off to the police-station at once and was shown into the +superintendent's office without delay. That official immediately drew +open a drawer of his desk and produced a packet folded in brown paper. + +"I suppose this is what you want to see, Mr. Brereton," he said. "I +guess you've heard about the discovery? Shoved away in a rat-hole in the +thatch of Harborough's shed these were, sir--upon my honour, I don't +know what to make of it! You'd have thought that a man of Harborough's +sense and cleverness would never have put these things there, where they +were certain to be found." + +"I don't believe Harborough did put them there," said Brereton. "But +what are they?" + +The superintendent motioned his visitor to sit by him and then opened +the papers out on his desk. + +"Not so much," he answered. "Three five-pound notes--I've proved that +they're those which poor Kitely got at the bank yesterday. A number of +letters--chiefly about old books, antiquarian matters, and so +forth--some scraps of newspaper cuttings, of the same nature. And this +bit of a memorandum book, that fits that empty pocket-book we found, +with pencil entries in it--naught of any importance. Look 'em over, if +you like, Mr. Brereton. I make nothing out of 'em." + +Brereton made nothing out either, at first glance. The papers were just +what the superintendent described them to be, and he went rapidly +through them without finding anything particularly worthy of notice. But +to the little memorandum book he gave more attention, especially to the +recent entries. And one of these, made within the last three months, +struck him as soon as he looked at it, insignificant as it seemed to be. +It was only of one line, and the one line was only of a few initials, an +abbreviation or two, and a date: _M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81_. And why +this apparently innocent entry struck Brereton was because he was still +thinking as an under-current to all this, of Mallalieu and +Cotherstone--and M. and C. were certainly the initials of those not too +common names. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHRISTOPHER PETT + + +The two men sat staring silently at the paper-strewn desk for several +moments; each occupied with his own thoughts. At last the superintendent +began to put the several exhibits together, and he turned to Brereton +with a gesture which suggested a certain amount of mental impatience. + +"There's one thing in all this that I can't understand, sir," he said. +"And it's this--it's very evident that whoever killed Kitely wanted the +papers that Kitely carried in that pocket-book. Why did he take 'em out +of the pocket-book and throw the pocket-book away? I don't know how that +strikes you--but it licks me, altogether!" + +"Yes," agreed Brereton, "it's puzzling--certainly. You'd think that the +murderer would have carried off the pocket-book, there and then. That he +took the papers from it, threw the pocket-book itself away, and then +placed the papers--or some of them--where your people have just found +them--in Harborough's shed--seems to me to argue something which is even +more puzzling. I daresay you see what I mean?" + +"Can't say that I do, sir," answered the superintendent. "I haven't had +much experience in this sort of work, you know, Mr. Brereton--it's a +good bit off our usual line. What do you mean, then?" + +"Why," replied Brereton, laughing a little, "I mean this--it looks as if +the murderer had taken his time about his proceedings!--after Kitely was +killed. The pocket-book, as you know, was picked up close to the body. +It was empty--as we all saw. Now what can we infer from that but that +the murderer actually stopped by his victim to examine the papers? And +in that case he must have had a light. He may have carried an electric +torch. Let's try and reconstruct the affair. We'll suppose that the +murderer, whoever he was, was so anxious to find some paper that he +wanted, and that he believed Kitely to have on him, that he immediately +examined the contents of the pocket-book. He turned on his electric +torch and took all the papers out of the pocket-book, laying the +pocket-book aside. He was looking through the papers when he heard a +sound in the neighbouring coppices or bushes. He immediately turned off +his light, made off with the papers, and left the empty case--possibly +completely forgetting its existence for the moment. How does that strike +you--as a theory?" + +"Very good, sir," replied the superintendent. "Very good--but it is only +a theory, you know, Mr. Brereton." + +Brereton rose, with another laugh. + +"Just so," he said. "But suppose you try to reduce it to practice? In +this way--you no doubt have tradesmen in this town who deal in such +things as electric torches. Find out--in absolute secrecy--if any of +them have sold electric torches of late to any one in the town, and if +so, to whom. For I'm certain of this--that pocket-book and its contents +was examined on the spot, and that examination could only have been made +with a light, and an electric torch would be the handiest means of +providing that light. And so--so you see how even a little clue like +that might help, eh?" + +"I'll see to it," assented the superintendent. "Well, it's all very +queer, sir, and I'm getting more than ever convinced that we've laid +hands on the wrong man. And yet--what could, and what can we do?" + +"Oh, nothing, at present," replied Brereton. "Let matters develop. +They're only beginning." + +He went away then, not to think about the last subject of conversation, +but to take out his own pocket-book as soon as he was clear of the +police-station, and to write down that entry which he had seen in +Kitely's memoranda:--_M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81_. And again he was struck +by the fact that the initials were those of Mallalieu and Cotherstone, +and again he wondered what they meant. They might have no reference +whatever to the Mayor and his partner--but under the circumstances it +was at any rate a curious coincidence, and he had an overwhelming +intuition that something lay behind that entry. But--what? + +That evening, as Bent and his guest were lighting their cigars after +dinner, Bent's parlour-maid came into the smoking-room with a card. Bent +glanced from it to Brereton with a look of surprise. + +"Mr. Christopher Pett!" he exclaimed. "What on earth does he want me +for? Bring Mr. Pett in here, anyway," he continued, turning to the +parlour-maid. "Is he alone?--or is Miss Pett with him?" + +"The police-superintendent's with him, sir," answered the girl. "They +said--could they see you and Mr. Brereton for half an hour, on +business?" + +"Bring them both in, then," said Bent. He looked at Brereton again, with +more interrogation. "Fresh stuff, eh?" he went on. "Mr. Christopher +Pett's the old dragon's nephew, I suppose. But what can he want +with--oh, well, I guess he wants you--I'm the audience." + +Brereton made no reply. He was watching the door. And through it +presently came a figure and face which he at once recognized as those of +an undersized, common-looking, sly-faced little man whom he had often +seen about the Law Courts in London, and had taken for a solicitor's +clerk. He looked just as common and sly as ever as he sidled into the +smoking-room, removing his silk hat with one hand and depositing a brief +bag on the table with the other, and he favoured Brereton with a sickly +grin of recognition after he had made a bow to the master of the house. +That done he rubbed together two long and very thin white hands and +smiled at Brereton once more. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Brereton," he said in a thin, wheedling voice. "I've +no doubt you've seen me before, sir?--I've seen you often--round about +the Courts, Mr. Brereton--though I've never had the pleasure of putting +business in your way--as yet, Mr. Brereton, as yet, sir! But----" + +Brereton, to whom Bent had transferred Mr. Christopher Pett's card, +glanced again at it, and from it to its owner. + +"I see your address is that of Messrs. Popham & Pilboody in Cursitor +Street, Mr. Pett," he observed frigidly. "Any connection with that +well-known firm?" + +Mr. Pett rubbed his hands, and taking the chair which Bent silently +indicated, sat down and pulled his trousers up about a pair of bony +knees. He smiled widely, showing a set of curiously shaped teeth. + +"Mr. Popham, sir," he answered softly, "has always been my very good +friend. I entered Mr. Popham's service, sir, at an early age. Mr. +Popham, sir, acted very handsomely by me. He gave me my articles, sir. +And when I was admitted--two years ago, Mr. Brereton--Messrs. Popham & +Pilboody gave me--very generously--an office in their suite, so that I +could have my name up, and do a bit on my own, sir. Oh yes!--I'm +connected--intimately--with that famous firm, Mr. Brereton!" + +There was an assurance about Mr. Pett, a cocksureness of demeanour, a +cheerful confidence in himself, which made Brereton long to kick him; +but he restrained his feelings and said coldly that he supposed Mr. Pett +wished to speak to Mr. Bent and himself on business. + +"Not on my own business, sir," replied Pett, laying his queer-looking +white fingers on his brief bag. "On the business of my esteemed feminine +relative, Miss Pett. I am informed, Mr. Brereton--no offence, sir, oh, +none whatever!--that you put some--no doubt necessary--questions to +Miss Pett at the court this morning which had the effect of prejudicing +her in the eyes--or shall we say ears?--of those who were present. Miss +Pett accordingly desires that I, as her legal representative, should +lose no time in putting before you the true state of the case as regards +her relations with Kitely, deceased, and I accordingly, sir, in the +presence of our friend, the superintendent, whom I have already spoken +to outside, desire to tell you what the truth is. Informally, you +understand, Mr. Brereton, informally!" + +"Just as you please," answered Brereton. "All this is, as you say, +informal." + +"Quite informal, sir," agreed Pett, who gained in cheerfulness with +every word. "Oh, absolutely so. Between ourselves, of course. But it'll +be all the pleasanter if you know. My aunt, Miss Pett, naturally does +not wish, Mr. Brereton, that any person--hereabouts or elsewhere--should +entertain such suspicions of her as you seemed--I speak, sir, from +information furnished--to suggest, in your examination of her today. And +so, sir, I wish to tell you this. I acted as legal adviser to the late +Mr. Kitely. I made his will. I have that will in this bag. And--to put +matters in a nutshell, Mr. Brereton--there is not a living soul in this +world who knows the contents of that will but--your humble and +obedient!" + +"Do you propose to communicate the contents of the late Mr. Kitely's +will to us?" asked Brereton, drily. + +"I do, sir," replied Mr. Pett. "And for this reason. My relative--Miss +Pett--does not know what Mr. Kitely's profession had been, nor what Mr. +Kitely died possessed of. She does not know--anything! And she will not +know until I read this will to her after I have communicated the gist of +it to you. And I will do that in a few words. The late Mr. Kitely, sir, +was an ex-member of the detective police force. By dint of economy and +thrift he had got together a nice little property--house-property, in +London--Brixton, to be exact. It is worth about one hundred and fifty +pounds per annum. And--to cut matters short--he has left it absolutely +to Miss Pett. I myself, Mr. Brereton, am sole executor. If you desire to +see the will, sir, you, or Mr. Bent, or the superintendent, are at +liberty to inspect it." + +Brereton waved the proffered document aside and got up from his chair. + +"No, thank you, Mr. Pett," he said. "I've no desire to see Mr. Kitely's +will. I quite accept all that you say about it. You, as a lawyer, know +very well that whatever I asked Miss Pett this morning was asked in the +interests of my client. No--you can put the will away as far as I'm +concerned. You've assured me that Miss Pett is as yet in ignorance of +its contents, and--I take your word. I think, however, that Miss Pett +won't be exactly surprised." + +"Oh, I daresay my aunt has a pretty good idea, Mr. Brereton," agreed +Pett, who having offered the will to both Bent and the superintendent, +only to meet with a polite refusal from each, now put it back in his +bag. "We all of us have some little idea which quarter the wind's in, +you know, sir, in these cases. Of course, Kitely, deceased, had no +relatives, Mr. Brereton: in fact, so far as Miss Pett and self are +aware, beyond ourselves, he'd no friends." + +"I was going to ask you a somewhat pertinent question, Mr. Pett," said +Brereton. "Quite an informal one, you know. Do you think he had any +enemies?" + +Pett put his long white fingers together and inclined his head to one +side. His slit of a mouth opened slightly, and his queer teeth showed +themselves in a sly grin. + +"Just so!" he said. "Of course, I take your meaning, Mr. Brereton. +Naturally, you'd think that a man of his profession would make enemies. +No doubt there must be a good many persons who'd have been glad--had he +still been alive--to have had their knives into him. Oh, yes! +But--unfortunately, I don't know of 'em, sir." + +"Never heard him speak of anybody who was likely to cherish revenge, +eh?" asked Brereton. + +"Never, sir! Kitely, deceased," remarked Pett, meditatively, "was not +given to talking of his professional achievements. I happen to know that +he was concerned in some important cases in his time--but he rarely, if +ever, mentioned them to me. In fact, I may say, gentlemen," he continued +in a palpable burst of confidence, "I may say, between ourselves, that +I'd had the honour of Mr. K.'s acquaintance for some time before ever I +knew what his line of business had been! Fact!" + +"A close man, eh?" asked Brereton. + +"One of the very closest," replied Pett. "Yes, you may say that, sir." + +"Not likely to let things out, I suppose?" continued Brereton. + +"Not he! He was a regular old steel trap, Kitely was--shut tight!" said +Pett. + +"And--I suppose you've no theory, no idea of your own about his murder?" +asked Brereton, who was watching the little man closely. "Have you +formed any ideas or theories?" + +Pett half-closed his eyes as he turned them on his questioner. + +"Too early!" he replied, with a shake of his head. "Much too early. I +shall--in due course. Meantime, there's another little commission I have +to discharge, and I may as well do it at once. There are two or three +trifling bequests in this will, gentlemen--one of 'em's to you, Mr. +Bent. It wasn't in the original will--that was made before Kitely came +to these parts. It's in a codicil--made when I came down here a few +weeks ago, on the only visit I ever paid to the old gentleman. He +desired, in case of his death, to leave you something--said you'd been +very friendly to him." + +"Very good of him, I'm sure," said Bent with a glance of surprise. "I'm +rather astonished to hear of it, though." + +"Oh, it's nothing much," remarked Pett, with a laugh as he drew from the +brief bag what looked like an old quarto account book, fastened by a +brass clasp. "It's a scrap-book that the old man kept--a sort of album +in which he pasted up all sorts of odds and ends. He thought you'd find +'em interesting. And knowing of this bequest, sir, I thought I'd bring +the book down. You might just give me a formal receipt for its delivery, +Mr. Bent." + +Bent took his curious legacy and led Mr. Pett away to a writing-desk to +dictate a former of receipt. And as they turned away, the superintendent +signed to Brereton to step into a corner of the room with him. + +"You know what you said about that electric torch notion this afternoon, +sir?" he whispered. "Well, after you left me, I just made an +inquiry--absolutely secret, you know--myself. I went to Rellit, the +ironmonger--I knew that if such things had ever come into the town, it +'ud be through him, for he's the only man that's at all up-to-date. +And--I heard more than I expected to hear!" + +"What?" asked Brereton. + +"I think there may be something in what you said," answered the +superintendent. "But, listen here--Rellit says he'd swear a solemn oath +that nobody but himself ever sold an electric torch in Highmarket. And +he's only sold to three persons--to the Vicar's son; to Mr. Mallalieu; +and to Jack Harborough!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PARENTAL ANXIETY + + +For a moment Brereton and the superintendent looked at each other in +silence. Then Bent got up from his desk at the other side of the room, +and he and the little solicitor came towards them. + +"Keep that to yourself, then," muttered Brereton. "We'll talk of it +later. It may be of importance." + +"Well, there's this much to bear in mind," whispered the superintendent, +drawing back a little with an eye on the others. "Nothing of that sort +was found on your client! And he'd been out all night. That's worth +considering--from his standpoint, Mr. Brereton." + +Brereton nodded his assent and turned away with another warning glance. +And presently Pett and the superintendent went off, and Bent dropped +into his easy chair with a laugh. + +"Queer sort of unexpected legacy!" he said. "I wonder if the old man +really thought I should be interested in his scrap-book?" + +"There may be a great deal that's interesting in it," remarked Brereton, +with a glance at the book, which Bent had laid aside on top of a +book-case. "Take care of it. Well, what did you think of Mr. +Christopher Pett?" + +"Cool hand, I should say," answered Bent. "But--what did you think of +him?" + +"Oh, I've met Mr. Christopher Pett's sort before," said Brereton, drily. +"The Dodson & Fogg type of legal practitioner is by no means extinct. I +should much like to know a good deal more about his various dealings +with Kitely. We shall see and hear more about them, however--later on. +For the present there are--other matters." + +He changed the subject then--to something utterly apart from the murder +and its mystery. For the one topic which filled his own mind was also +the very one which he could not discuss with Bent. Had Cotherstone, had +Mallalieu anything to do with Kitely's death? That question was +beginning to engross all his attention: he thought more about it than +about his schemes for a successful defence of Harborough, well knowing +that his best way of proving Harborough's innocence lay in establishing +another man's guilt. + +"One would give a good deal," he said to himself, as he went to bed that +night, "if one could get a moment's look into Cotherstone's mind--or +into Mallalieu's either! For I'll swear that these two know +something--possibly congratulating themselves that it will never be +known to anybody else!" + +If Brereton could have looked into the minds of either of the partners +at this particular juncture he would have found much opportunity for +thought and reflection, of a curious nature. For both were keeping a +double watch--on the course of events on one hand; on each other, on the +other hand. They watched the police-court proceedings against Harborough +and saw, with infinite relief, that nothing transpired which seemed +inimical to themselves. They watched the proceedings at the inquest held +on Kitely; they, too, yielded nothing that could attract attention in +the way they dreaded. When several days had gone by and the police +investigations seemed to have settled down into a concentrated purpose +against the suspected man, both Mallalieu and Cotherstone believed +themselves safe from discovery--their joint secret appeared to be well +buried with the old detective. But the secret was keenly and vividly +alive in their own hearts, and when Mallalieu faced the truth he knew +that he suspected Cotherstone, and when Cotherstone put things squarely +to himself he knew that he suspected Mallalieu. And the two men got to +eyeing each other furtively, and to addressing each other curtly, and +when they happened to be alone there was a heavy atmosphere of mutual +dislike and suspicion between them. + +It was a strange psychological fact that though these men had been +partners for a period covering the most important part of their lives, +they had next to nothing in common. They were excellent partners in +business matters; Mallalieu knew Cotherstone, and Cotherstone knew +Mallalieu in all things relating to the making of money. But in taste, +temperament, character, understanding, they were as far apart as the +poles. This aloofness when tested further by the recent discomposing +events manifested itself in a disinclination to confidence. Mallalieu, +whatever he thought, knew very well that he would never say what he +thought to Cotherstone; Cotherstone knew precisely the same thing with +regard to Mallalieu. But this silence bred irritation, and as the days +went by the irritation became more than Cotherstone could bear. He was a +highly-strung, nervous man, quick to feel and to appreciate, and the +averted looks and monosyllabic remarks and replies of a man into whose +company he could not avoid being thrown began to sting him to something +like madness. And one day, left alone in the office with Mallalieu when +Stoner the clerk had gone to get his dinner, the irritation became +unbearable, and he turned on his partner in a sudden white heat of +ungovernable and impotent anger. + +"Hang you!" he hissed between his set teeth. "I believe you think I did +that job! And if you do, blast you, why don't you say so, and be done +with it?" + +Mallalieu, who was standing on the hearth, warming his broad back at the +fire, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets and looked +half-sneeringly at his partner out of his screwed-up eyes. + +"I should advise you to keep yourself cool," he said with affected +quietness. "There's more than me'll think a good deal if you chance to +let yourself out like that." + +"You do think it!" reiterated Cotherstone passionately. "Damn it, d'ye +think I haven't noticed it? Always looking at me as if--as if----" + +"Now then, keep yourself calm," interrupted Mallalieu. "I can look at +you or at any other, in any way I like, can't I? There's no need to +distress yourself--I shan't give aught away. If you took it in your head +to settle matters--as they were settled--well, I shan't say a word. That +is unless--you understand?" + +"Understand what?" screamed Cotherstone. + +"Unless I'm obliged to," answered Mallalieu. "I should have to make it +clear that I'd naught to do with that particular matter, d'ye see? Every +man for himself's a sound principle. But--I see no need. I don't believe +there'll be any need. And it doesn't matter the value of that pen that's +shaking so in your hand to me if an innocent man suffers--if he's +innocent o' that, he's guilty o' something else. You're safe with me." + +Cotherstone flung the pen on the floor and stamped on it. And Mallalieu +laughed cynically and walked slowly across to the door. + +"You're a fool, Cotherstone," he said. "Go on a bit more like that, and +you'll let it all out to somebody 'at 'll not keep secrets as I can. +Cool yourself, man, cool yourself!" + +"Hang you!" shouted Cotherstone. "Mind I don't let something out about +you! Where were you that night, I should like to know? Or, rather, I do +know! You're no safer than I am! And if I told what I do know----" + +Mallalieu, with his hand on the latch, turned and looked his partner in +the face--without furtiveness, for once. + +"And if you told aught that you do, or fancy you know," he said quietly, +"there'd be ruin in your home, you soft fool! I thought you wanted +things kept quiet for your lass's sake? Pshaw!--you're taking leave o' +your senses!" + +He walked out at that, and Cotherstone, shaking with anger, relapsed +into a chair and cursed his fate. And after a time he recovered himself +and began to think, and his thoughts turned instinctively to Lettie. + +Mallalieu was right--of course, he was right! Anything that he, +Cotherstone, could say or do in the way of bringing up the things that +must be suppressed would ruin Lettie's chances. So, at any rate, it +seemed to him. For Cotherstone's mind was essentially a worldly one, and +it was beyond him to believe that an ambitious young man like Windle +Bent would care to ally himself with the daughter of an ex-convict. Bent +would have the best of excuses for breaking off all relations with the +Cotherstone family if the unpleasant truth came out. No!--whatever else +he did, he must keep his secret safe until Bent and Lettie were safely +married. That once accomplished, Cotherstone cared little about the +future: Bent could not go back on his wife. And so Cotherstone +endeavoured to calm himself, so that he could scheme and plot, and +before night came he paid a visit to his doctor, and when he went home +that evening, he had his plans laid. + +Bent was with Lettie when Cotherstone got home, and Cotherstone +presently got the two of them into a little snuggery which he kept +sacred to himself as a rule. He sat down in his easy chair, and signed +to them to sit near him. + +"I'm glad I found you together," he said. "There's something I want to +say. There's no call for you to be frightened, Lettie--but what I've got +to say is serious. And I'll put it straight--Bent'll understand. Now, +you'd arranged to get married next spring--six months hence. I want you +to change your minds, and to let it be as soon as you can." + +He looked with a certain eager wistfulness at Lettie, expecting to see +her start with surprise. But fond as he was of her, Cotherstone had so +far failed to grasp the later developments of his daughter's character. +Lettie Cotherstone was not the sort of young woman who allows herself to +be surprised by anything. She was remarkably level-headed, cool of +thought, well able to take care of herself in every way, and fully alive +to the possibilities of her union with the rising young manufacturer. +And instead of showing any astonishment, she quietly asked her father +what he meant. + +"I'll tell you," answered Cotherstone, greatly relieved to find that +both seemed inclined to talk matters quietly over. "It's this--I've not +been feeling as well as I ought to feel, lately. The fact is, Bent, I've +done too much in my time. A man can work too hard, you know--and it +tells on him in the end. So the doctor says, anyhow." + +"The doctor!" exclaimed Lettie. "You haven't been to him?" + +"Seen him this afternoon," replied Cotherstone. "Don't alarm yourself. +But that's what he says--naught wrong, all sound, but--it's time I +rested. Rest and change--complete change. And I've made up my mind--I'm +going to retire from business. Why not? I'm a well-to-do man--better +off than most folks 'ud think. I shall tell Mallalieu tomorrow. Yes--I'm +resolved on it. And that done, I shall go and travel for a year or +two--I've always wanted to go round the world. I'll go--that for a +start, anyway. And the sooner the better, says the doctor. And----" here +he looked searchingly at his listeners--"I'd like to see you settled +before I go. What?" + +Lettie's calm and judicial character came out in the first words she +spoke. She had listened carefully to Cotherstone; now she turned to +Bent. + +"Windle," she said, as quietly as if she were asking the most casual of +questions, "wouldn't it upset all your arrangements for next year? You +see, father," she went on, turning to Cotherstone, "Windle had arranged +everything. He was going to have the whole of the spring and summer away +from business; we were going on the Continent for six months. And that +would have to be entirely altered and----" + +"We could alter it," interrupted Bent. He was watching Cotherstone +closely, and fancying that he saw a strained and eager look in his face, +he decided that Cotherstone was keeping something back, and had not told +them the full truth about his health. + +"It's all a matter of arrangement. I could arrange to go away during the +winter, Lettie." + +"But I don't want to travel in winter," objected Lettie. "Besides--I've +made all my arrangements about my gowns and things." + +"That can be arranged, too," said Bent. "The dressmaker can work +overtime." + +"That'll mean that everything will be hurried--and spoiled," replied +Lettie. "Besides, I've arranged everything with my bridesmaids. They +can't be expected to----" + +"We can do without bridesmaids," replied Bent, laying his hand on +Lettie's arm. "If your father really feels that he's got to have the +rest and the change he spoke of, and wants us to be married first, why, +then----" + +"But there's nothing to prevent you having a rest and a change now, +father," said Lettie. "Why not? I don't like my arrangements to be +altered--I had planned everything out so carefully. When we did fix on +next spring, Windle, I had only just time as it was!" + +"Pooh!" said Bent. "We could get married the day after tomorrow if we +wanted! Bridesmaids--gowns--all that sort of tomfoolery, what does it +matter?" + +"It isn't tomfoolery," retorted Lettie. "If I am to be married I should +like to be married properly." + +She got up, with a heightened colour and a little toss of her head, and +left the room, and the two men looked at each other. + +"Talk to her, my lad," said Cotherstone at last. "Of course, girls think +such a lot of--of all the accompaniments, eh?" + +"Yes, yes--it'll be all right," replied Bent. He tapped Cotherstone's +arm and gave him a searching look. "You're not keeping anything +back--about your health, are you?" he asked. + +Cotherstone glanced at the door and sank his voice to a whisper. + +"It's my heart!" he answered. "Over-strained--much over-strained, the +doctor says. Rest and change--imperative! But--not a word to Lettie, +Bent. Talk her round--get it arranged. I shall feel safer--you +understand?" + +Bent was full of good nature, and though he understood to the full--it +was a natural thing, this anxiety of a father for his only child. He +promised to talk seriously to Lettie at once about an early wedding. And +that night he told Brereton of what had happened, and asked him if he +knew how special licences can be got, and Brereton informed him of all +he knew on that point--and kept silence about one which to him was +becoming deeply and seriously important. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE ANONYMOUS LETTER + + +Within a week of that night Brereton was able to sum things up, to take +stock, to put clearly before himself the position of affairs as they +related to his mysterious client. They had by that time come to a clear +issue: a straight course lay ahead with its ultimate stages veiled in +obscurity. Harborough had again been brought up before the Highmarket +magistrates, had stubbornly refused to give any definite information +about his exact doings on the night of Kitely's murder, and had been +duly committed for trial on the capital charge. On the same day the +coroner, after holding an inquest extending over two sittings, had +similarly committed him. There was now nothing to do but to wait until +the case came on at Norcaster Assizes. Fortunately, the assizes were +fixed for the middle of the ensuing month: Brereton accordingly had +three weeks wherein to prepare his defence--or (which would be an +eminently satisfactory equivalent) to definitely fix the guilt on some +other person. + +Christopher Pett, as legal adviser to the murdered man, had felt it his +duty to remain in Highmarket until the police proceedings and the +coroner's inquest were over. He had made himself conspicuous at both +police-court and coroner's court, putting himself forward wherever he +could, asking questions wherever opportunity offered. Brereton's dislike +of him increased the more he saw of him; he specially resented Pett's +familiarity. But Pett was one of those persons who know how to combine +familiarity with politeness and even servility; to watch or hear him +talk to any one whom he button-holed was to gain a notion of his +veneration for them. He might have been worshipping Brereton when he +buttoned-holed the young barrister after Harborough had been finally +committed to take his trial. + +"Ah, he's a lucky man, that, Mr. Brereton!" observed Pett, collaring +Brereton in a corridor outside the crowded court. "Very fortunate man +indeed, sir, to have you take so much interest in him. Fancy you--with +all your opportunities in town, Mr. Brereton!--stopping down here, just +to defend that fellow out of--what shall we call it?--pure and simple +Quixotism! Quixotism!--I believe that's the correct term, Mr. Brereton. +Oh, yes--for the man's as good as done for. Not a cat's chance! He'll +swing, sir, will your client!" + +"Your simile is not a good one, Mr. Pett," retorted Brereton. "Cats are +said to have nine lives." + +"Cat, rat, mouse, dog--no chance whatever, sir," said Pett, cheerfully. +"I know what a country jury'll say. If I were a betting man, Mr. +Brereton--which I ain't, being a regular church attendant--I'd lay you +ten to one the jury'll never leave the box, sir!" + +"No--I don't think they will--when the right man is put in the dock, Mr. +Pett," replied Brereton. + +Pett drew back and looked the young barrister in the face with an +expression that was half quizzical and half serious. + +"You don't mean to say that you really believe this fellow to be +innocent, Mr. Brereton?" he exclaimed. "You!--with your knowledge of +criminal proceedings! Oh, come now, Mr. Brereton--it's very kind of you, +very Quixotic, as I call it, but----" + +"You shall see," said Brereton and turned off. He had no mind to be more +than civil to Pett, and he frowned when Pett, in his eagerness, laid a +detaining hand on his gown. "I'm not going to discuss it, Mr. Pett," he +added, a little warmly. "I've my own view of the case." + +"But, but, Mr. Brereton--a moment!" urged Pett. "Just between ourselves +as--well, not as lawyers but as--as one gentleman to another. _Do_ you +think it possible it was some other person? Do you now, really?" + +"Didn't your estimable female relative, as you call her, say that I +suggested she might be the guilty person?" demanded Brereton, +maliciously. "Come, now, Mr. Pett! You don't know all that I know!" + +Pett fell back, staring doubtfully at Brereton's curled lip, and +wondering whether to take him seriously or not. And Brereton laughed and +went off--to reflect, five minutes later, that this was no laughing +matter for Harborough and his daughter, and to plunge again into the +maze of thought out of which it was so difficult to drag anything that +seemed likely to be helpful. + +He interviewed Harborough again before he was taken back to Norcaster, +and again he pressed him to speak, and again Harborough gave him a +point-blank refusal. + +"Not unless it comes to the very worst, sir," he said firmly, "and only +then if I see there's no other way--and even then it would only be for +my daughter's sake. But it won't come to that! There's three weeks +yet--good--and if somebody can't find out the truth in three weeks----" + +"Man alive!" exclaimed Brereton. "Your own common-sense ought to tell +you that in cases like this three years isn't enough to get at the +truth! What can I do in three weeks?" + +"There's not only you, sir," replied Harborough. "There's the +police--there's the detectives--there's----" + +"The police and the detectives are all doing their best to fasten the +crime on you!" retorted Brereton. "Of course they are! That's their way. +When they've safely got one man, do you think they're going to look for +another? If you won't tell me what you were doing, and where you were +that night, well, I'll have to find out for myself." + +Harborough gave his counsel a peculiar look which Brereton could not +understand. + +"Oh, well!" he said. "If _you_ found it out----" + +He broke off at that, and would say no more, and Brereton presently left +him and walked thoughtfully homeward, reflecting on the prisoner's last +words. + +"He admits there is something to be found out," he mused. "And by that +very admission he implies that it could be found out. Now--how? +Egad!--I'd give something for even the least notion!" + +Bent's parlour-maid, opening the door to Brereton, turned to a locked +drawer in the old-fashioned clothes-press which stood in Bent's hall, +and took from it a registered letter. + +"For you, sir," she said, handing it to Brereton. "Came by the noon +post, sir. The housekeeper signed for it." + +Brereton took the letter into the smoking-room and looked at it with a +sudden surmise that it might have something to do with the matter which +was uppermost in his thoughts. He had had no expectation of any +registered letter, no idea of anything that could cause any +correspondent of his to send him any communication by registered post. +There was no possibility of recognizing the handwriting of the sender, +for there was no handwriting to recognize: the address was typewritten. +And the postmark was London. + +Brereton carefully cut open the flap of the envelope and drew out the +enclosure--a square sheet of typewriting paper folded about a thin wad +of Bank of England notes. He detached these at once and glanced quickly +at them. There were six of them: all new and crisp--and each was for a +hundred and fifty pounds. + +Brereton laid this money aside and opened the letter. This, too, was +typewritten: a mere glance at its termination showed that it was +anonymous. He sat down at Bent's desk and carefully read it through. + +There was no address: there was nothing beyond the postmark on the +envelope to show where the letter came from; there was absolutely +nothing in the contents to give any clue to the sender. But the wording +was clear and plain. + + + "MR. GIFFORD BRERETON,--Having learnt from the newspapers that you + are acting as counsel for John Harborough, charged with the murder + of a man named Kitely at Highmarket, I send you the enclosed £900 + to be used in furthering Harborough's defence. You will use it + precisely as you think fit. You are not to spare it nor any + endeavour to prove Harborough's innocence--which is known to the + sender. Whenever further funds are needed, all you need do is to + insert an advertisement in the personal column of _The Times_ + newspaper in these words: _Highmarket Exchequer needs + replenishing_, with your initials added. Allow me to suggest that + you should at once offer a reward of £500 to whoever gives + information which will lead to the capture and conviction of the + real murderer or murderers. If this offer fails to bring + information speedily, double it. I repeat that no pains must be + spared in this matter, and that money to any amount is no object. + The sender of this letter will keep well informed of the progress + of events as narrated in the newspapers, to which you will please + to afford all proper information." + + +Brereton read this extraordinary communication through three times; then +he replaced letter and bank-notes in the envelope, put the envelope in +an inner pocket, left the house, and walking across to the Northrop +villa, asked to see Avice Harborough. + +Avice came to him in Mrs. Northrop's drawing-room, and Brereton glancing +keenly at her as she entered saw that she was looking worn and pale. He +put the letter into her hands with a mere word. + +"Your father has a powerful friend--somewhere," he said. + +To his astonishment the girl showed no very great surprise. She started +a little at the sight of the money; she flushed at one or two +expressions in the letter. But she read the letter through without +comment and handed it back to him with a look of inquiry. + +"You don't seem surprised!" said Brereton. + +"There has always been so much mystery to me about my father that I'm +not surprised," she replied. "No!--I'm just thankful! For this +man--whoever he is--says that my father's innocence is known to him. And +that's--just think what it means--to me!" + +"Why doesn't he come forward and prove it, then?" demanded Brereton. + +Avice shook her head. + +"He--they--want it to be proved without that," she answered. "But--don't +you think that if all else fails the man who wrote this would come +forward? Oh, surely!" + +Brereton stood silently looking at her for a full minute. From the +first time of meeting with her he had felt strangely and strongly +attracted to his client's daughter, and as he looked at her now he began +to realize that he was perhaps more deeply interested in her than he +knew. + +"It's all the most extraordinary mystery--this about your father--that +ever I came across!" he exclaimed suddenly. Then he looked still more +closely at her. "You've been worrying!" he said impetuously. "Don't! I +beg you not to. I'll move heaven and earth--because I, personally, am +absolutely convinced of your father's innocence. And--here's powerful +help." + +"You'll do what's suggested here?" she asked. + +"Certainly! It's a capital idea," he answered. "I'd have done it myself +if I'd been a rich man--but I'm not. Cheer up, now!--we're getting on +splendidly. Look here--ask Mrs. Northrop to let you come out with me. +We'll go to the solicitor--together--and see about that reward at once." + +As they presently walked down to the town Brereton gave Avice another of +his critical looks of inspection. + +"You're feeling better," he said in his somewhat brusque fashion. "Is it +this bit of good news?" + +"That--and the sense of doing something," she answered. "If I wasn't +looking well when you came in just now, it was because this inaction is +bad for me. I want to do something!--something to help. If I could only +be stirring--moving about. You understand?" + +"Quite!" responded Brereton. "And there is something you can do. I saw +you on a bicycle the other day. Why not give up your teaching for a +while, and scour the country round about, trying to get hold of some +news about your father's movements that night? That he won't tell us +anything himself is no reason why we shouldn't find out something for +ourselves. He must have been somewhere--someone must have seen him! Why +not begin some investigation?--you know the district. How does that +strike you?" + +"I should be only too thankful," she said. "And I'll do it. The +Northrops are very kind--they'll understand, and they'll let me off. +I'll begin at once--tomorrow. I'll hunt every village between the sea +and the hills!" + +"Good!" said Brereton. "Some work of that sort, and this reward--ah, we +shall come out all right, you'll see." + +"I don't know what we should have done if it hadn't been for you!" said +Avice. "But--we shan't forget. My father is a strange man, Mr. Brereton, +but he's not the sort of man he's believed to be by these Highmarket +people--and he's grateful to you--as you'll see." + +"But I must do something to merit his gratitude first, you know," +replied Brereton. "Come!--I've done next to nothing as yet. But we'll +make a fresh start with this reward--if your father's solicitor +approves." + +The solicitor did approve--strongly. And he opened his eyes to their +widest extent when he read the anonymous letter and saw the bank-notes. + +"Your father," he observed to Avice, "is the most mysterious man I ever +heard of! The Kitely mystery, in my opinion, is nothing to the +Harborough mystery. Do you really mean to tell me that you haven't an +idea of what all this means?" + +"Not an idea!" replied Avice. "Not the ghost of one." + +"Well--we'll get these posters and handbills out, anyway, Mr. Brereton," +said the solicitor. "Five hundred pounds is a good figure. Lord bless +you!--some of these Highmarket folk would sell their mothers for half +that! The whole population will be turned into amateur detectives. Now +let's draft the exact wording, and then we'll see the printer." + +Next day the bill-poster placarded Highmarket with the reward bills, and +distributed them broadcast in shops and offices, and one of the first +persons to lay hands on one was Mallalieu & Cotherstone's clerk, Herbert +Stoner. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SHEET OF FIGURES + + +At that time Stoner had been in the employment of Mallalieu and +Cotherstone for some five or six years. He was then twenty-seven years +of age. He was a young man of some ability--sharp, alert, quick at +figures, good at correspondence, punctual, willing: he could run the +business in the absence of its owners. The two partners appreciated +Stoner, and they had gradually increased his salary until it reached the +sum of two pounds twelve shillings and sixpence per week. In their +opinion a young single man ought to have done very well on that: +Mallalieu and Cotherstone had both done very well on less when they were +clerks in that long vanished past of which they did not care to think. +But Stoner was a young man of tastes. He liked to dress well. He liked +to play cards and billiards. He liked to take a drink or two at the +Highmarket taverns of an evening, and to be able to give his +favourite barmaids boxes of chocolate or pairs of gloves now and +then--judiciously. And he found his salary not at all too great, and he +was always on the look-out for a chance of increasing it. + +Stoner emerged from Mallalieu & Cotherstone's office at his usual hour +of half-past five on the afternoon of the day on which the reward bills +were put out. It was his practice to drop in at the Grey Mare Inn every +evening on his way to his supper, there to drink a half-pint of bitter +ale and hear the news of the day from various cronies who were to be met +with in the bar-parlour. As he crossed the street on this errand on this +particular evening, Postick, the local bill-poster, came hurrying out of +the printer's shop with a bundle of handbills under his arm, and as he +sped past Stoner, thrust a couple of them into the clerk's hand. + +"Here y'are, Mr. Stoner!" he said without stopping. "Something for you +to set your wits to work on. Five hundred reward--for a bit o' brain +work!" + +Stoner, who thought Postick was chaffing him, was about to throw the +handbills, still damp from the press, into the gutter which he was +stepping over. But in the light of an adjacent lamp he caught sight of +the word _Murder_ in big staring capitals at the top of them. Beneath it +he caught further sight of familiar names--and at that he folded up the +bills, went into the Grey Mare, sat down in a quiet corner, and read +carefully through the announcement. It was a very simple one, and +plainly worded. Five hundred pounds would be paid by Mr. Tallington, +solicitor, of Highmarket, to any person or persons who would afford +information which would lead to the arrest and conviction of the +murderer or murderers of the deceased Kitely. + +No one was in the bar-parlour of the Grey Mare when Stoner first entered +it, but by the time he had re-read the handbill, two or three men of +the town had come in, and he saw that each carried a copy. One of them, +a small tradesman whose shop was in the centre of the Market Square, +leaned against the bar and read the terms of the reward aloud. + +"And whose money might that be?" he asked, half-sneeringly. "Who's +throwing brass round in that free-handed fashion? I should want to know +if the money's safe before I wasted my time in trying to get it." + +"Money'll be all right," observed one of the speaker's companions. +"There's Lawyer Tallington's name at the foot o' that bill. He wouldn't +put his name to no offer o' that sort if he hadn't the brass in hand." + +"Whose money is it, then?" demanded the first speaker. "It's not a +Government reward. They say that Kitely had no relatives, so it can't be +them. And it can't be that old housekeeper of his, because they say +she's satisfied enough that Jack Harborough's the man, and they've got +him. Queer do altogether, I call it!" + +"It's done in Harborough's interest," said a third man. "Either that, or +there's something very deep in it. Somebody's not satisfied and +somebody's going to have a flutter with his brass over it." He turned +and glanced at Stoner, who had come to the bar for his customary +half-pint of ale. "Your folks aught to do with this?" he asked. "Kitely +was Mr. Cotherstone's tenant, of course." + +Stoner laughed scornfully as he picked up his tankard. + +"Yes, I don't think!" he sneered. "Catch either of my governors wasting +five hundred pence, or five pence, in that way! Not likely!" + +"Well, there's Tallington's name to back it," said one of the men. "We +all know Tallington. What he says, he does. The money'll be there--if +it's earned." + +Then they all looked at each other silently, surmise and speculation in +the eyes of each. + +"Tell you what!" suddenly observed the little tradesman, as if struck +with a clever idea. "It might be young Bent! Five hundred pound is +naught to him. This here young London barrister that's defending +Harborough is stopping with Bent--they're old schoolmates. Happen he's +persuaded Bent to do the handsome: they say that this barrister chap's +right down convinced that Harborough's innocent. It must be Bent's +brass!" + +"What's Popsie say?" asked one of the younger members of the party, +winking at the barmaid, who, having supplied her customers' needs, was +leaning over a copy of the handbill which somebody had laid on the bar. +"Whose brass can it be, Popsie?" + +The barmaid stood up, seized a glass and a cloth, and began to polish +the glass with vigor. + +"What's Popsie say?" she repeated. "Why, what she says is that you're a +lot of donkeys for wasting your time in wondering whose brass it is. +What does it matter whose brass it is, so long as it's safe? What you +want to do is to try and earn it. You don't pick up five hundred pounds +every day!" + +"She's right!" said some man of the group. "But--how does anybody start +on to them games?" + +"There'll be plenty o' starters, for all that, my lads!" observed the +little tradesman. "Never you fear! There'll be candidates." + +Stoner drank off his ale and went away. Usually, being given to gossip, +he stopped chatting with anybody he chanced to meet until it was close +upon his supper-time. But the last remark sent him off. For Stoner meant +to be a starter, and he had no desire that anybody should get away in +front of him. + +The lodging in which Stoner kept his bachelor state was a quiet and +eminently respectable one. He had two small rooms, a parlour and a +bedchamber, in the house of a widow with whom he had lodged ever since +his first coming to Highmarket, nearly six years before. In the tiny +parlour he kept a few books and a writing-desk, and on those evenings +which he did not spend in playing cards or billiards, he did a little +intellectual work in the way of improving his knowledge of French, +commercial arithmetic, and business correspondence. And that night, his +supper being eaten, and the door closed upon his landlady, he lighted +his pipe, sat down to his desk, unlocked one of its drawers, and from an +old file-box drew out some papers. One of these, a half-sheet of ruled +foolscap, he laid in front of him, the rest he put back. And then, +propping his chin on his folded hands, Stoner gave that half-sheet a +long, speculative inspection. + +If anybody had looked over Stoner's shoulder they would have seen him +gazing at a mass of figures. The half-sheet of foolscap was covered with +figures: the figuring extended to the reverse side. And--what a +looker-on might not have known, but what Stoner knew very well--the +figures were all of Cotherstone's making--clear, plain, well-formed +figures. And amongst them, and on the margins of the half-sheet, and +scrawled here and there, as if purposelessly and carelessly, was one +word in Cotherstone's handwriting, repeated over and over again. That +word was--_Wilchester_. + +Stoner knew how that half-sheet of foolscap had come into his +possession. It was a half-sheet which he had found on Cotherstone's desk +when he went into the partners' private room to tidy things up on the +morning after the murder of Kitely. It lay there, carelessly tossed +aside amongst other papers of clearer meaning, and Stoner, after one +glance at it, had carefully folded it, placed it in his pocket, taken it +home, and locked it up, to be inspected at leisure. + +He had had his reasons, of course, for this abstraction of a paper which +rightfully belonged to Cotherstone. Those reasons were a little +difficult to explain to himself in one way; easy enough to explain, in +another. As regards the difficulty, Stoner had somehow or other got a +vague idea, that evening of the murder, that something was wrong with +Cotherstone. He had noticed, or thought he noticed, a queer look on old +Kitely's face when the ex-detective left the private room--it was a look +of quiet satisfaction, or triumph, or malice; any way, said Stoner, it +was something. Then there was the fact of Cotherstone's curious +abstraction when he, Stoner, entered and found his employer sitting in +the darkness, long after Kitely had gone--Cotherstone had said he was +asleep, but Stoner knew that to be a fib. Altogether, Stoner had gained +a vague feeling, a curious intuition, that there was something queer, +not unconnected with the visit of Cotherstone's new tenant, and when he +heard, next morning, of what had befallen Kitely, all his suspicions +were renewed. + +So much for the difficult reasons which had made him appropriate the +half-sheet of foolscap. But there was a reason which was not difficult. +It lay in the presence of that word _Wilchester_. If not of the finest +degree of intellect, Stoner was far from being a fool, and it had not +taken him very long to explain to himself why Cotherstone had scribbled +the name of that far-off south-country town all over that sheet of +paper, aimlessly, apparently without reason, amidst his figurings. _It +was uppermost in his thoughts at the time_--and as he sat there, pen in +hand, he had written it down, half-unconsciously, over and over +again.... There it was--_Wilchester_--Wilchester--Wilchester. + +The reiteration had a peculiar interest for Stoner. He had never heard +Cotherstone nor Mallalieu mention Wilchester at any time since his first +coming into their office. The firm had no dealings with any firm at +Wilchester. Stoner, who dealt with all the Mallalieu & Cotherstone +correspondence, knew that during his five and a half years' clerkship, +he had never addressed a single letter to any one at Wilchester, never +received a single letter bearing the Wilchester post-mark. Wilchester +was four hundred miles away, far off in the south; ninety-nine out of +every hundred persons in Highmarket had never heard the name of +Wilchester. But Stoner had--quite apart from the history books, and the +geography books, and map of England. Stoner himself was a Darlington +man. He had a close friend, a bosom friend, at Darlington, named +Myler--David Myler. Now David Myler was a commercial traveller--a smart +fellow of Stoner's age. He was in the service of a Darlington firm of +agricultural implement makers, and his particular round lay in the +market-towns of the south and south-west of England. He spent a +considerable part of the year in those districts, and Wilchester was one +of his principal headquarters: Stoner had many a dozen letters of +Myler's, which Myler had written to him from Wilchester. And only a year +before all this, Myler had brought home a bride in the person of a +Wilchester girl, the daughter of a Wilchester tradesman. + +So the name of Wilchester was familiar enough to Stoner. And now he +wanted to know what--what--what made it so familiar to Cotherstone that +Cotherstone absent-mindedly scribbled it all over a half-sheet of +foolscap paper? + +But the figures? Had they any connexion with the word? This was the +question which Stoner put to himself when he sat down that night in his +parlour to seriously consider if he had any chance of winning that five +hundred pounds reward. He looked at the figures again--more carefully. +The truth was that until that evening he had never given much attention +to those figures: it was the word Wilchester that had fascinated him. +But now, summoning all his by no means small arithmetical knowledge to +his aid, Stoner concentrated himself on an effort to discover what +those figures meant. That they were a calculation of some sort he had +always known--now he wanted to know of what. + +The solution of the problem came to him all of a sudden--as the solution +of arithmetical problems often does come. He saw the whole thing quite +plainly and wondered that he had not seen it at a first glance. The +figures represented nothing whatever but three plain and common sums--in +compound arithmetic. Cotherstone, for some reason of his own, had taken +the sum of two thousand pounds as a foundation, and had calculated (1st) +what thirty years' interest on that sum at three and a half per cent. +would come to; and (2nd) what thirty years' interest at five per cent. +would come to; and (3rd) what the compound interest on two thousand +pounds would come to--capital and compound interest--in the same period. +The last reckoning--the compound interest one--had been crossed over and +out with vigorous dashes of the pen, as if the calculator had been +appalled on discovering what an original sum of two thousand pounds, +left at compound interest for thirty years, would be transformed into in +that time. + +All this was so much Greek to Stoner. But he knew there was something in +it--something behind those figures. They might refer to some Corporation +financial business--Cotherstone being Borough Treasurer. But--they might +not. And why were they mixed up with Wilchester? + +For once in a way, Stoner took no walk abroad that night. Usually, even +when he stopped in of an evening, he had a brief stroll to the Grey +Mare and back last thing before going to bed. But on this occasion he +forgot all about the Grey Mare, and Popsie the barmaid did not come into +his mind for even a second. He sat at home, his feet on the fender, his +eyes fixed on the dying coals in the grate. He thought--thought so hard +that he forgot that his pipe had gone out. The fire had gone out, too, +when he finally rose and retired. And he went on thinking for a long +time after his head had sought his pillow. + +"Well, it's Saturday tomorrow, anyway!" he mused at last. "Which is +lucky." + +Next day--being Saturday and half-holiday--Stoner attired himself in his +best garments, and, in the middle of the afternoon, took train for +Darlington. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER + + +Although Stoner hailed from Darlington, he had no folk of his own left +there--they were all dead and gone. Accordingly he put himself up at a +cheap hotel, and when he had taken what its proprietors called a meat +tea, he strolled out and made for that part of the town in which his +friend Myler had set up housekeeping in a small establishment wherein +there was just room for a couple of people to turn round. Its +accommodation, indeed, was severely taxed just then, for Myler's father +and mother-in-law had come to visit him and their daughter, and when +Stoner walked in on the scene and added a fifth the tiny parlour was +filled to its full extent. + +"Who'd ha' thought of seeing you, Stoner!" exclaimed Myler joyously, +when he had welcomed his old chum, and had introduced him to the family +circle. "And what brings you here, anyway? Business?" + +"Just a bit of business," answered Stoner. "Nothing much, though--only a +call to make, later on. I'm stopping the night, though." + +"Wish we could ha' put you up here, old sport!" said Myler, ruefully. +"But we don't live in a castle, yet. All full here!--unless you'd like a +shakedown on the kitchen table, or in the wood-shed. Or you can try the +bath, if you like." + +Amidst the laughter which succeeded this pleasantry, Stoner said that he +wouldn't trouble the domestic peace so far--he'd already booked his +room. And while Myler--who, commercial-traveller like, cultivated a +reputation for wit--indulged in further jokes, Stoner stealthily +inspected the father-in-law. What a fortunate coincidence! he said to +himself; what a lucky stroke! There he was, wanting badly to find out +something about Wilchester--and here, elbow to elbow with him, was a +Wilchester man! And an elderly Wilchester man, too--one who doubtless +remembered all about Wilchester for many a long year. That was another +piece of luck, for Stoner was quite certain that if Cotherstone had ever +had any connexion with Wilchester it must have been a long, long time +ago: he knew, from information acquired, that Cotherstone had been a +fixture in Highmarket for thirty years. + +He glanced at Myler's father-in-law again as Myler, remarking that when +old friends meet, the flowing bowl must flow, produced a bottle of +whisky from a brand-new chiffonier, and entreated his bride to fetch +what he poetically described as the crystal goblets and the sparkling +stream. The father-in-law was a little apple-faced old gentleman with +bright eyes and a ready smile, who evidently considered his son-in-law a +born wit, and was ready to laugh at all his sallies. A man of good +memory, that, decided Stoner, and wondered how he could diplomaticaly +lead Mr. Pursey to talk about the town he came from. But Mr. Pursey was +shortly to talk about Wilchester to some purpose--and with no +drawing-out from Stoner or anybody. + +"Well," remarked Myler, having supplied his guests with spirituous +refreshment, and taken a pull at his own glass. "I'm glad to see you, +Stoner, and so's the missis, and here's hoping you'll come again as +often as the frog went to the water. You've been having high old times +in that back-of-beyond town of yours, haven't you? Battles, murders, +sudden deaths!--who'd ha' thought a slow old hill-country town like +Highmarket could have produced so much excitement! What's happened to +that chap they collared?--I haven't had time to look at the papers this +last day or two--been too busy." + +"Committed for trial," answered Stoner. "He'll come up at Norcaster +Assizes next month." + +"Do they think he did it?" asked Myler. "Is it a sure thing?" + +Before Stoner could reply Mr. Pursey entered the arena. His face +displayed the pleased expression of the man who has special information. + +"It's an odd thing, now, David," he said in a high, piping voice, "a +very odd thing, that this should happen when I come up into these +parts--almost as foreign to me as the Fiji Islands might be. Yes, sir," +he went on, turning to Stoner, "it's very odd! I knew that man Kitely." + +Stoner could have jumped from his seat, but he restrained himself, and +contrived to show no more than a polite interest. + +"Oh, indeed, sir?" he said. "The poor man that was murdered? You knew +him?" + +"I remember him very well indeed," assented Mr. Pursey. "Yes, although I +only met him once, I've a very complete recollection of the man. I spent +a very pleasant evening with him and one or two more of his +profession--better sort of police and detectives, you know--at a +friend's of mine, who was one of our Wilchester police officials--oh, +it's--yes--it must be thirty years since. They'd come from London, of +course, on some criminal business. Deary me!--the tales them fellows +could tell!" + +"Thirty years is a long time, sir," observed Stoner politely. + +"Aye, but I remember it quite well," said Mr. Pursey, with a confident +nod. "I know it was thirty years ago, 'cause it was the Wilchester +Assizes at which the Mallows & Chidforth case was tried. Yes--thirty +years. Eighteen hundred and eighty-one was the year. Mallows & +Chidforth--aye!" + +"Famous case that, sir?" asked Stoner. He was almost bursting with +excitement by that time, and he took a big gulp of whisky and water to +calm himself. "Something special, sir? Murder, eh?" + +"No--fraud, embezzlement, defalcation--I forget what the proper legal +term 'ud be," replied Mr. Pursey. "But it was a bad case--a real bad +'un. We'd a working men's building society in Wilchester in those +days--it's there now for that matter, but under another name--and there +were two better-class young workmen, smart fellows, that acted one as +secretary and t'other as treasurer to it. They'd full control, those +two had, and they were trusted, aye, as if they'd been the Bank of +England! And all of a sudden, something came out, and it was found that +these two, Mallows, treasurer, Chidforth, secretary, had made away with +two thousand pounds of the society's money. Two thousand pounds!" + +"Two thousand pounds?" exclaimed Stoner, whose thoughts went like +lightning to the half-sheet of foolscap. "You don't say!" + +"Yes--well, it might ha' been a pound or two more or less," said the old +man, "but two thousand was what they called it. And of course Mallows +and Chidforth were prosecuted--and they got two years. Oh, yes, we +remember that case very well indeed in Wilchester, don't we, Maria?" + +"And good reason!" agreed Mrs. Pursey warmly. "There were a lot of poor +people nearly ruined by them bad young men." + +"There were!" affirmed Mr. Pursey. "Yes--oh, yes! Aye--I've often +wondered what became of 'em--Mallows and Chidforth, I mean. For from the +time they got out of prison they've never been heard of in our parts. +Not a word!--they disappeared completely. Some say, of course, that they +had that money safely planted, and went to it. I don't know. But--off +they went." + +"Pooh!" said Myler. "That's an easy one. Went off to some colony or +other, of course. Common occurrence, father-in-law. Bert, old sport, +what say if we rise on our pins and have a hundred at billiards at the +Stag and Hunter--good table there." + +Stoner followed his friend out of the little house, and once outside +took him by the arm. + +"Confound the billards, Dave, old man!" he said, almost trembling with +suppressed excitement. "Look here!--d'you know a real quiet corner in +the Stag where we can have an hour's serious consultation. You do?--then +come on, and I'll tell you the most wonderful story you ever heard since +your ears were opened!" + +Myler, immediately impressed, led the way into a small and vacant +parlour in the rear of a neighbouring hostelry, ordered refreshments, +bade the girl who brought them to leave him and his friend alone, and +took the liberty of locking the door on their privacy. And that done he +showed himself such a perfect listener that he never opened his lips +until Stoner had set forth everything before him in detail. Now and then +he nodded, now and then his sharp eyes dilated, now and then he clapped +his hands. And in the end he smote Stoner on the shoulder. + +"Stoner, old sport!" he exclaimed. "It's a sure thing! Gad, I never +heard a clearer. That five hundred is yours--aye, as dead certain as +that my nose is mine! It's--it's--what they call inductive reasoning. +The initials M. and C.--Mallows and Chidforth--Mallalieu and +Cotherstone--the two thousand pounds--the fact that Kitely was at +Wilchester Assizes in 1881--that he became Cotherstone's tenant thirty +years after--oh, I see it all, and so will a judge and jury! Stoner, +one, or both of 'em killed that old chap to silence him!" + +"That's my notion," assented Stoner, who was highly pleased with +himself, and by that time convinced that his own powers, rather than a +combination of lucky circumstances, had brought the desired result +about. "Of course, I've worked it out to that. And the thing now +is--what's the best line to take? What would you suggest, Dave?" + +Myler brought all his business acumen to bear on the problem presented +to him. + +"What sort of chap is this Tallington?" he asked at last, pointing to +the name at the foot of the reward handbill. + +"Most respectable solicitor in Highmarket," answered Stoner, promptly. + +"Word good?" asked Myler. + +"Good as--gold," affirmed Stoner. + +"Then if it was me," said Myler, "I should make a summary of what I +knew, on paper--carefully--and I should get a private interview with +this Tallington and tell him--all. Man!--you're safe of that five +hundred! For there's no doubt, Stoner, on the evidence, no doubt +whatever!" + +Stoner sat silently reflecting things for a while. Then he gave his +friend a sly, somewhat nervous look. Although he and Myler had been +bosom friends since they were breeched, Stoner was not quite certain as +to what Myler would say to what he, Stoner, was just then thinking of. + +"Look here," he said suddenly. "There's this about it. It's all jolly +well, but a fellow's got to think for himself, Dave, old man. Now it +doesn't matter a twopenny cuss to me about old Kitely--I don't care if +he was scragged twice over--I've no doubt he deserved it. But it'll +matter a lot to M. & C. if they're found out. I can touch that five +hundred easy as winking--but--you take my meaning?--I daresay M. & C. +'ud run to five thousand if I kept my tongue still. What?" + +But Stoner knew at once that Myler disapproved. The commercial +traveller's homely face grew grave, and he shook his head with an +unmistakable gesture. + +"No, Stoner," he said. "None o' that! Play straight, my lad! No +hush-money transactions. Keep to the law, Stoner, keep to the law! +Besides, there's others than you can find all this out. What you want to +do is to get in first. See Tallington as soon as you get back." + +"I daresay you're right," admitted Stoner. "But--I know M. & C, and I +know they'd give--aye, half of what they're worth--and that's a lot!--to +have this kept dark." + +That thought was with him whenever he woke in the night, and as he +strolled round Darlington next morning, it was still with him when, +after an early dinner, he set off homeward by an early afternoon train +which carried him to High Gill junction; whence he had to walk five +miles across the moors and hills to Highmarket. And he was still +pondering it weightily when, in one of the loneliest parts of the +solitudes which he was crossing, he turning the corner of a little pine +wood, and came face to face with Mallalieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE LONELY MOOR + + +During the three hours which had elapsed since his departure from +Darlington, Stoner had been thinking things over. He had seen his friend +Myler again that morning; they had had a drink or two together at the +station refreshment room before Stoner's train left, and Myler had once +more urged upon Stoner to use his fortunately acquired knowledge in the +proper way. No doubt, said Myler, he could get Mallalieu and Cotherstone +to square him; no doubt they would cheerfully pay thousands where the +reward only came to hundreds--but, when everything was considered, was +it worth while? No!--a thousand times, no, said Myler. The mere fact +that Stoner had found out all this was a dead sure proof that somebody +else might find it out. The police had a habit, said Myler, of working +like moles--underground. How did Stoner know that some of the Norcaster +and London detectives weren't on the job already? They knew by that time +that old Kitely was an ex-detective; they'd be sure to hark back on his +past doings, in the effort to trace some connexion between one or other +of them and his murder. Far away as it was, that old Wilchester affair +would certainly come up again. And when it came up--ah, well, observed +Myler, with force and earnestness, it would be a bad job for Stoner if +it were found out that he'd accepted hush-money from his masters. In +fact--Myler gave it as his decided opinion, though, as he explained, he +wasn't a lawyer--he didn't know but what Stoner, in that case, would be +drawn in as an accessory after the fact. + +"Keep to the law, Bert, old man!" counselled Myler, as they parted. +"You'll be all right then. Stick to my advice--see Tallington at +once--this very afternoon!--and put in for the five hundred. You'll be +safe as houses in doing that--but there'd be an awful risk about +t'other, Bert. Be wise!--you'll get no better counsel." + +Stoner knew that his sagacious friend was right, and he was prepared to +abide by his counsel--as long as Myler was at his elbow. But when he had +got away from him, his mind began to wobble. Five hundred pounds!--what +was it in comparison with what he might get by a little skilful playing +of his cards? He knew Mallalieu and he knew Cotherstone--knew much more +about both of them than they had any idea of. He knew that they were +rich men--very rich men. They had been making money for years, and of +late certain highly successful and profitable contracts had increased +their wealth in a surprising fashion. Everything had gone right with +them--every contract they had taken up had turned out a gold mine. Five +thousand pounds would be nothing to them singly--much less jointly. In +Stoner's opinion, he had only to ask in order to have. He firmly +believed that they would pay--pay at once, in good cash. And if they +did--well, he would take good care that no evil chances came to him! If +he laid hands on five thousand pounds, he would be out of Highmarket +within five hours, and half-way across the Atlantic within five days. +No--Dave Myler was a good sort--one of the best--but he was a bit +straight-laced, and old-fashioned--especially since he had taken a +wife--and after all, every man has a right to do his best for himself. +And so, when Stoner came face to face with Mallalieu, on the lonely moor +between High Gill and Highmarket, his mind was already made up to +blackmail. + +The place in which they met was an appropriate one--for Stoner's +purpose. He had crossed the high ground between the railway and the +little moorland town by no definite track, but had come in a bee-line +across ling and bracken and heather. All around stretched miles upon +miles of solitude--nothing but the undulating moors, broken up by great +masses of limestone rock and occasional clumps and coverts of fir and +pine; nothing but the blue line of the hills in the west; nothing but +the grey northern skies overhead; nothing but the cry of the curlew and +the bleating of the mountain sheep. It was in the midst of this that he +met his senior employer--at the corner of a thin spinney which ran along +the edge of a disused quarry. Mallalieu, as Stoner well knew, was a +great man for walking on these moors, and he always walked alone. He +took these walks to keep his flesh down; here he came, swinging his +heavy oak walking-stick, intent on his own thoughts, and he and Stoner, +neither hearing the other's footfall on the soft turf, almost ran into +each other. Stoner, taken aback, flushed with the sudden surprise. + +But Mallalieu, busied with his own reflections, had no thought of Stoner +in his mind, and consequently showed no surprise at meeting him. He made +a point of cultivating friendly relations with all who worked for him, +and he grinned pleasantly at his clerk. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed cordially. "Taking your walks alone, eh? Now I +should ha' thought a young fellow like you would ha' been taking one o' +Miss Featherby's little milliners out for a dander, like--down the +river-side, what?" + +Stoner smiled--not as Mallalieu smiled. He was in no mood for +persiflage; if he smiled it was because he thought that things were +coming his way, that the game was being played into his hands. And +suddenly he made up his mind. + +"Something better to do than that, Mr. Mallalieu," he answered pertly. +"I don't waste my time on dress-makers' apprentices. Something better to +think of than that, sir." + +"Oh!" said Mallalieu. "Ah! I thought you looked pretty deep in +reflection. What might it be about, like?" + +Something within Stoner was urging him on to go straight to the point. +No fencing, said this inward monitor, no circumlocution--get to it, +straight out. And Stoner thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulled out +a copy of the reward bill. He opened it before his employer, watching +Mallalieu's face. + +"That!" he said. "Just that, Mr. Mallalieu." + +Mallalieu glanced at the handbill, started a little, and looked +half-sharply, half-angrily, at his clerk. + +"What about it?" he growled. His temper, as Stoner well knew, was +quickly roused, and it showed signs of awakening now. "What're you +showing me that bit o' paper for? Mind your manners, young man!" + +"No offence meant," retorted Stoner, coolly. He looked round him, +noticed some convenient railings, old and worn, which fenced in the +quarry, and stepping back to them, calmly leaned against the top one, +put his hands in his pockets and looked at Mallalieu with a glance which +was intended to show that he felt himself top dog in any encounter that +might come. "I want a word or two with you, Mr. Mallalieu," he said. + +Mallalieu, who was plainly amazed by this strange conduct, glared at +Stoner. + +"You want a word--or two--with--me?" he exclaimed. "For why, pray?--and +why here?" + +"Here's a convenient spot," said Stoner, with a nasty laugh. "We're all +alone. Not a soul near us. You wouldn't like anybody to overhear what +I've got to say." + +Mallalieu stared at the clerk during a full minute's silence. He had a +trick of silently staring people out of countenance. But he found that +Stoner was not to be stared down, and eventually he spoke. + +"I'll tell you what it is, my lad!" he said. "I don't know whether +you've been drinking, or if you've some bee in your bonnet, but I don't +allow nobody, and especially a man as I pay wages to, to speak in them +tones to me! What d'ye mean by it?" + +"I'll tell you what I mean, Mr. Mallalieu," replied Stoner, still +regarding his man fixedly, and nerving himself for the contest. "I mean +this--I know who killed Kitely!" + +Mallalieu felt himself start again; he felt his face flush warm. But he +managed to show a fairly controlled front, and he made shift to sneer. + +"Oh, indeed," he said, twisting his mouth in derision. "Do you now? +Deary me!--it's wonderful how clever some young folks is! So you know +who killed Kitely, do you, my lad? Ah! And who did kill Kitely, now? +Let's be knowing! Or happen you'd rather keep such a grand secret to +yourself--till you can make something out of it?" + +"I can make something out of it now," retorted Stoner, who was sharp +enough to see through Mallalieu's affectation of scorn. "Just you +realize the importance of what I'm saying. I tell you once again--I know +who killed Kitely!" + +"And who did kill him, then?" demanded Mallalieu. "Psha!--you know +naught about it!" + +Stoner laughed, looked round, and then leaned his head forward. + +"Don't I?" he said, with a sneer that exceeded his employer's in +significance and meaning. "But you're wrong--I do! Kitely was murdered +by either you or Cotherstone! How's that, Mr. Mallalieu?" + +Mallalieu again regarded his clerk in silence. He knew by that time that +this fellow was in possession of some information, and his +characteristic inclination was to fence with him. And he made a great +effort to pull himself together, so as to deal better with whatever +might be in store. + +"Either me or Mr. Cotherstone!" he repeated sarcastically. "Oh! Now +which on us would you be inclined to fix it on, Mr. Stoner? Eh?" + +"May have been one, may have been the other, may have been both, for +aught I know," retorted Stoner. "But you're both guilty, any way! It's +no use, Mr. Mallalieu--I know you killed him. And--I know why!" + +Again there was silence, and again a duel of staring eyes. And at its +end Mallalieu laughed again, still affecting sneering and incredulous +sentiments. + +"Aye?--and why did one or t'other or both--have it which way you +will--murder this here old gentleman?" he demanded. "Why, Mr. +Sharp-nose?" + +"I'll tell you--and then you'll know what I know," answered Stoner. +"Because the old gentleman was an ex-detective, who was present when you +and Cotherstone, under your proper names of Mallows and Chidforth, were +tried for fraud at Wilchester Assizes, thirty years ago, and sentenced +to two years! That's why, Mr. Mallalieu. The old chap knew it, and he +let you know that he knew it, and you killed him to silence him. You +didn't want it to get out that the Mayor and Borough Treasurer of +Highmarket, so respected, so much thought of, are--a couple of old +gaol-birds!" + +Mallalieu's hot temper, held very well in check until then, flamed up as +Stoner spat out the last contemptuous epithet. He had stood with his +right hand behind him, grasping his heavy oaken stick--now, as his rage +suddenly boiled, he swung hand and stick round in a savage blow at his +tormentor, and the crook of the stick fell crashing against Stoner's +temples. So quick was the blow, so sudden the assault, that the clerk +had time to do no more than throw up an arm. And as he threw it up, and +as the heavy blow fell, the old, rotten railing against which Stoner had +leant so nonchalantly, gave way, and he fell back through it, and across +the brow of the quarry--and without a sound. Mallalieu heard the crash +of his stick on his victim's temples; he heard the rending and crackling +of the railings--but he heard neither cry, nor sigh, nor groan from +Stoner. Stoner fell backward and disappeared--and then (it seemed an age +in coming) Mallalieu's frightened senses were aware of a dull thud +somewhere far down in the depths into which he had fallen. Then came +silence--deep, heavy silence--broken at last by the cry of a curlew +flying across the lonely moor. + +Mallalieu was seized with a trembling fit. He began to shake. His heavy +frame trembled as if under the effects of a bad ague; the hand which had +struck the blow shook so violently that the stick dropped from it. And +Mallalieu looked down at the stick, and in a sudden overwhelming rage +kicked it away from him over the brink of the quarry. He lifted his fist +and shook it--and just as suddenly dropped it. The trembling passed, and +he broke out into a cold sweat of fear. + +"God ha' mercy!" he muttered. "If--if he's killed? He shouldn't ha' +plagued me--he shouldn't ha' dared me! It was more than flesh and blood +could stand, and--Lord ha' mercy, what's to be done?" + +The autumn twilight was creeping over the moor. The sun had set behind +the far-off western hills just before Mallalieu and Stoner had met, and +while they talked dusk had come on. The moorlands were now growing dark +and vague, and it seemed to Mallalieu that as the light failed the +silence increased. He looked round him, fearful lest any of the +shepherds of the district had come up to take a Sunday glance at their +flocks. And once he thought he saw a figure at a little distance away +along the edge of the trees, and he strained and strained his eyes in +its direction--and concluded it was nothing. Presently he strained his +eyes in another way--he crept cautiously to the edge of the quarry, and +looked over the broken railing, and far down on the limestone rocks +beneath he saw Stoner, lying on his back, motionless. + +Long experience of the moorlands and their nooks and crannies enabled +Mallalieu to make his way down to the bottom of the quarry by a descent +through a brake of gorse and bramble. He crept along by the undergrowth +to where the body lay, and fearfully laid a hand on the still figure. +One touch was sufficient--he stood up trembling and shaking more than +ever. + +"He's dead--dead!" he muttered. "Must ha' broken his neck--it's a good +fifty feet down here. Was ever aught so unfortunate! And--whatever shall +I say and do about it?" + +Inspiration came to him quickly--as quickly as the darkness came into +that place of death. He made an effort, and regained his composure, and +presently was able to think and to decide. He would say and do +nothing--nothing whatever. No one had witnessed the meeting between +Stoner and himself. No one had seen the blow. No one had seen Stoner's +fall. Far better to say nothing, do nothing--far best to go away and let +things take their course. Stoner's body would be found, next day, the +day after, some day--and when it was found, people would say that Stoner +had been sitting on those rotten railings, and they had given way, and +he had fallen--and whatever marks there were on him would be attributed +to the fall down the sharp edges of the old quarry. + +So Mallalieu presently went away by another route, and made his way back +to Highmarket in the darkness of the evening, hiding himself behind +hedges and walls until he reached his own house. And it was not until he +lay safe in bed that night that he remembered the loss of his stick. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE MEDICAL OPINION + + +The recollection of that stick plunged Mallalieu into another of his +ague-like fits of shaking and trembling. There was little sleep for him +after that: he spent most of the night in thinking, anticipating, and +scheming. That stick would almost certainly be found, and it would be +found near Stoner's body. A casual passer-by would not recognize it, a +moorland shepherd would not recognize it. But the Highmarket police, to +whom it would be handed, would know it at once to be the Mayor's: it was +one which Mallalieu carried almost every day--a plain, very stout oak +staff. And the police would want to know how it came to be in that +quarry. Curse it!--was ever anything so unfortunate!--however could he +have so far lost his head as to forget it? He was half tempted to rise +in the middle of the night and set out for the moors, to find it. But +the night was dark, and solitary as the moors and the quarry where he +dared not risk the taking of a lantern. And so he racked his brains in +the effort to think of some means of explaining the presence of the +stick. He hit on a notion at last--remembering suddenly that Stoner had +carried neither stick nor umbrella. If the stick were found he would +say that he had left it at the office on the Saturday, and that the +clerk must have borrowed it. There was nothing unlikely in that: it was +a good reason, it would explain why it came to be found near the body. +Naturally, the police would believe the word of the Mayor: it would be a +queer thing if they didn't, in Mallalieu's opinion. And therewith he +tried to go to sleep, and made a miserable failure of it. + +As he lay tossing and groaning in his comfortable bed that night, +Mallalieu thought over many things. How had Stoner acquired his +information? Did anybody else know what Stoner knew? After much +reflection he decided that nobody but Stoner did know. Further reckoning +up of matters gave him a theory as to how Stoner had got to know. He saw +it all--according to his own idea. Stoner had overheard the conversation +between old Kitely and Cotherstone in the private office, of course! +That was it--he wondered he had never thought of it before. Between the +partners' private room and the outer office in which Stoner sat, there +was a little window in the wall; it had been specially made so that +papers could be passed from one room to the other. And, of course, on +that afternoon it had probably been a little way open, as it often was, +and Stoner had heard what passed between Cotherstone and his tenant. +Being a deep chap, Stoner had kept the secret to himself until the +reward was offered. Of course, his idea was blackmail--Mallalieu had no +doubt about that. No--all things considered, he did not believe that +Stoner had shared his knowledge--Stoner would be too well convinced of +its value to share it with anybody. That conclusion comforted +Mallalieu--once more he tried to sleep. + +But his sleep was a poor thing that night, and he felt tired and worn +when, as usual, he went early to the yard. He was there before +Cotherstone; when Cotherstone came, no more than a curt nod was +exchanged between them. They had never spoken to each other except on +business since the angry scene of a few days before, and now Mallalieu, +after a glance at some letters which had come in the previous evening, +went off down the yard. He stayed there an hour: when he re-entered the +office he looked with an affectation of surprise at the clerk's empty +desk. + +"Stoner not come?" he demanded curtly. + +Cotherstone, who was turning over the leaves of an account book, replied +just as curtly. + +"Not yet!" + +Mallalieu fidgeted about for a while, arranging some papers he had +brought in from the yard. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of +impatience, and going to the door, called to a lad who was passing. + +"Here, you!" he said. "You know where Mr. Stoner lodges?--Mrs. +Battley's. Run round there, and see why he hasn't come to his work. It's +an hour and a half past his time. Happen he's poorly--run now, sharp!" + +He went off down the yard again when he had despatched this message; he +came back to the office ten minutes later, just as the messenger +returned. + +"Well?" he demanded, with a side-glance to assure himself that +Cotherstone was at hand. "Where is he, like?" + +"Please, sir, Mrs. Battley, she says as how Mr. Stoner went away on +Saturday afternoon, sir," answered the lad, "and he hasn't been home +since. She thinks he went to Darlington, sir, on a visit." + +Mallalieu turned into the office, growling. + +"Must ha' missed his train," he muttered as he put more papers on +Stoner's desk. "Here--happen you'll attend to these things--they want +booking up." + +Cotherstone made no reply, and Mallalieu presently left him and went +home to get his breakfast. And as he walked up the road to his house he +wondered why Stoner had gone to Darlington. Was it possible that he had +communicated what he knew to any of his friends? If so---- + +"Confound the suspense and the uncertainty!" growled Mallalieu. "It 'ud +wear the life out of a man. I've a good mind to throw the whole thing up +and clear out! I could do it easy enough wi' my means. A clear +track--and no more o' this infernal anxiety." + +He reflected, as he made a poor show of eating his breakfast, on the +ease with which he could get away from Highmarket and from England. +Being a particularly astute man of business, Mallalieu had taken good +care that all his eggs were not in one basket. He had many baskets--his +Highmarket basket was by no means the principal one. Indeed all that +Mallalieu possessed in Highmarket was his share of the business and his +private house. As he had made his money he had invested it in easily +convertible, gilt-edged securities, which would be realized at an hour's +notice in London or New York, Paris or Vienna. It would be the easiest +thing in the world for him, as Mayor of Highmarket, to leave the town on +Corporation business, and within a few hours to be where nobody could +find him; within a few more, to be out of the country. Lately, he had +often thought of going right away, to enjoy himself for the rest of his +life. He had made one complete disappearance already; why not make +another? Before he went townwards again that morning, he was beginning +to give serious attention to the idea. + +Meanwhile, however, there was the business of the day to attend to, and +Stoner's absence threw additional work on the two partners. Then at +twelve o'clock, Mallalieu had to go over to the Town Hall to preside at +a meeting of the General Purposes Committee. That was just over, and he +was thinking of going home to his lunch when the superintendent of +police came into the committee-room and drew him aside. + +"I've bad news for you, Mr. Mayor," he announced in a whisper. "Your +clerk--he hasn't been at work this morning, I suppose?" + +"Well?" demanded Mallalieu, nerving himself for what he felt to be +coming. "What about it?" + +"He's met with a bad accident," replied the superintendent. "In fact, +sir, he's dead! A couple of men found his body an hour or so ago in +Hobwick Quarry, up on the moor, and it's been brought down to the +mortuary. You'd better come round, Mr. Mayor--Mr. Cotherstone's there, +now." + +Mallalieu followed without a word. But once outside the Town Hall he +turned to his companion. + +"Have you made aught out of it?" he asked. "He's been away, so his +landlady says, since Saturday afternoon: I sent round to inquire for him +when he didn't turn up this morning. What do you know, like?" + +"It looks as if it had been an accident," answered the superintendent. +"These men that found him noticed some broken railings at top of the +quarry. They looked down and saw a body. So they made their way down and +found--Stoner. It would seem as if he'd leaned or sat on the railings +and they'd given way beneath him, and of course he'd pitched headlong +into the quarry. It's fifty feet deep, Mr. Mayor! That's all one can +think of. But Dr. Rockcliffe's with him now." + +Mallalieu made a mighty effort to appear calm, as, with a grave and +concerned face, he followed his guide into the place where the doctor, +an official or two, and Cotherstone were grouped about the dead man. He +gave one glance at his partner and Cotherstone gave one swift look at +him--and there was something in Cotherstone's look which communicated a +sudden sense of uneasy fear to Mallalieu: it was a look of curious +intelligence, almost a sort of signal. And Mallalieu experienced a vague +feeling of dread as he turned to the doctor. + +"A bad job--a bad job!" he muttered, shaking his head and glancing +sideways at the body. "D'ye make aught out of it, doctor? Can you say +how it came about?" + +Dr. Rockcliffe pursed up his lips and his face became inscrutable. He +kept silence for a moment--when he spoke his voice was unusually stern. + +"The lad's neck is broken, and his spine's fractured," he said in a low +voice. "Either of those injuries was enough to cause death. But--look at +that!" + +He pointed to a contusion which showed itself with unmistakable +plainness on the dead man's left temple, and again he screwed up his +lips as if in disgust at some deed present only to the imagination. + +"That's a blow!" he said, more sternly than before. "A blow from some +blunt instrument! It was a savage blow, too, dealt with tremendous +force. It may--may, I say--have killed this poor fellow on the spot--he +may have been dead before ever he fell down that quarry." + +It was only by an enormous effort of will that Mallalieu prevented +himself from yielding to one of his shaking fits. + +"But--but mightn't he ha' got that with striking his head against them +rocks as he fell?" he suggested. "It's a rocky place, that, and the +rocks project, like, so----" + +"No!" said the doctor, doggedly. "That's no injury from any rock or +stone or projection. It's the result of a particularly fierce blow dealt +with great force by some blunt instrument--a life preserver, a club, a +heavy stick. It's no use arguing it. That's a certainty!" + +Cotherstone, who had kept quietly in the background, ventured a +suggestion. + +"Any signs of his having been robbed?" he asked. + +"No, sir," replied the superintendent promptly. "I've everything that +was on him. Not much, either. Watch and chain, half a sovereign, some +loose silver and copper, his pipe and tobacco, a pocket-book with a +letter or two and such-like in it--that's all. There'd been no robbery." + +"I suppose you took a look round?" asked Cotherstone. "See anything that +suggested a struggle? Or footprints? Or aught of that sort?" + +The superintendent shook his head. + +"Naught!" he answered. "I looked carefully at the ground round those +broken railings. But it's the sort of ground that wouldn't show +footprints, you know--covered with that short, wiry mountain grass that +shows nothing." + +"And nothing was found?" asked Mallalieu. "No weapons, eh?" + +For the life of him he could not resist asking that--his anxiety about +the stick was overmastering him. And when the superintendent and the two +policemen who had been with him up to Hobwick Quarry had answered that +they had found nothing at all, he had hard work to repress a sigh of +relief. He presently went away hoping that the oak stick had fallen into +a crevice of the rocks or amongst the brambles which grew out of them; +there was a lot of tangle-wood about that spot, and it was quite +possible that the stick, kicked violently away, had fallen where it +would never be discovered. And--there was yet a chance for him to make +that possible discovery impossible. Now that the body had been found, he +himself could visit the spot with safety, on the pretext of curiosity. +He could look round; if he found the stick he could drop it into a safe +fissure of the rocks, or make away with it. It was a good notion--and +instead of going home to lunch Mallalieu turned into a private room of +the Highmarket Arms, ate a sandwich and drank a glass of ale, and +hurried off, alone, to the moors. + +The news of this second mysterious death flew round Highmarket and the +neighbourhood like wild-fire. Brereton heard of it during the afternoon, +and having some business in the town in connexion with Harborough's +defence, he looked in at the police-station and found the superintendent +in an unusually grave and glum mood. + +"This sort of thing's getting beyond me, Mr. Brereton," he said in a +whisper. "Whether it is that I'm not used to such things--thank God! +we've had little experience of violence in this place in my time!--or +what it is, but I've got it into my head that this poor young fellow's +death's connected in some way with Kitely's affair! I have indeed, +sir!--it's been bothering me all the afternoon. For all the +doctors--there's been several of 'em in during the last two hours--are +absolutely agreed that Stoner was felled, sir--felled by a savage blow, +and they say he may ha' been dead before ever he fell over that quarry +edge. Mr. Brereton--I misdoubt it's another murder!" + +"Have you anything to go on?" asked Brereton. "Had anybody any motive? +Was there any love affair--jealousy, you know--anything of that sort?" + +"No, I'm sure there wasn't," replied the superintendent. "The whole town +and county's ringing with the news, and I should ha' heard something by +now. And it wasn't robbery--not that he'd much on him, poor fellow! +There's all he had," he went on, opening a drawer. "You can look at 'em, +if you like." + +He left the room just then, and Brereton, disregarding the cheap watch +and chain and the pigskin purse with its light load, opened Stoner's +pocket-book. There was not much in that, either--a letter or two, some +receipted bills, a couple of much creased copies of the reward bill, +some cuttings from newspapers. He turned from these to the pocket-book +itself, and on the last written page he found an entry which made him +start. For there again were the initials! + +"--_M. & C._--_fraud_--_bldg. soc._--_Wilchester +Assizes_--_81_--_£2000_--money never recovered--2 yrs.--K. _pres._" + +Not much--but Brereton hastily copied that entry. And he had just +written the last word when the superintendent came back into the room +with a man who was in railway uniform. + +"Come in here," the superintendent was saying. "You can tell me what it +is before this gentleman. Some news from High Gill junction, Mr. +Brereton," he went on, "something about Stoner. Well, my lad, what is +it?" + +"The station-master sent me over on his bicycle," replied the visitor. +"We heard over there this afternoon about Stoner's body being found, and +that you were thinking he must have fallen over into the quarry in the +darkness. And we know over yonder that that's not likely." + +"Aye?" said the superintendent. "Well, as a matter of fact, my lad, we +weren't thinking that, but no doubt that rumour's got out. Now why do +you railway folks know it isn't likely?" + +"That's what I've come to tell," answered the man, a sharp, +intelligent-looking fellow. "I'm ticket-collector over there, as you +know, sir. Now, young Stoner came to the junction on Saturday afternoon +and booked for Darlington, and of course went to Darlington. He came +back yesterday afternoon--Sunday--by the train that gets to our junction +at 3.3. I took his ticket. Instead of going out of the station by the +ordinary way, he got over the fence on the down line side, saying to me +that he'd take a straight cut across the moor to Highmarket. I saw him +going Highmarket way for some distance. And he'd be at Hobwick Quarry by +4.30 at the latest--long before darkness." + +"Just about sunset, as a matter of fact," remarked the superintendent. +"The sun sets about 4.18." + +"So he couldn't have fallen over in the darkness," continued the +ticket-collector. "If all had gone well with him, he'd have been down in +Highmarket here by dusk." + +"I'm obliged to you," said the superintendent. "It's worth knowing, of +course. Came from Darlington, eh? Was he alone?" + +"Quite alone, sir." + +"You didn't see anybody else going that way across the moors, did you? +Didn't notice anybody following him?" + +"No," replied the ticket-collector with decision. "Me and one of my +mates watched him a long way, and I'll swear there was no one near him +till he was out of sight. We didn't watch him on purpose, neither. When +the down-train had gone, me and my mate sat down to smoke our pipes, and +from where we were we could see right across the moors in this +direction. We saw Stoner--now and then, you understand--right away to +Chat Bank." + +"You didn't notice any suspicious characters come to your station that +afternoon or evening?" asked the superintendent. + +The ticket-collector replied that nothing of that sort had been seen, +and he presently went away. And Brereton, after an unimportant word or +two, went away too, certain by that time that the death of Stoner had +some sinister connexion with the murder of Kitely. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE SCRAP BOOK + + +Brereton went back to his friend's house more puzzled than ever by the +similarity of the entries in Kitely's memoranda and in Stoner's +pocket-book. Bent had gone over to Norcaster that afternoon, on +business, and was not to be home until late in the evening: Brereton +accordingly dined alone and had ample time to reflect and to think. The +reflecting and the thinking largely took the form of speculating--on the +fact that certain terms and figures which had been set down by Kitely +had also been set down by Stoner. There were the initials--M. & C. There +was a date--if it was a date--81. What in Kitely's memorandum the +initials S. B. might mean, it was useless to guess at. His memorandum, +indeed, was as cryptic as an Egyptian hieroglyph. But Stoner's +memorandum was fuller, more explicit. The M. & C. of the Kitely entry +had been expanded to Mallows and Chidforth. The entry "fraud" and the +other entries "Wilchester Assizes" and the supplementary words, clearly +implied that two men named Mallows and Chidforth were prosecuted at +Wilchester Assizes in the year 1881 for fraud, that a sum of £2,000 was +involved, which was never recovered, that Mallows and Chidforth, +whoever they were, were convicted and were sentenced to two years' +imprisonment. So much for Stoner's memorandum. But did it refer to the +same event to which Kitely made reference in his memorandum? It seemed +highly probable that it did. It seemed highly probable, too, that the M. +& C. of Kitely's entry were the Mallows & Chidforth of Stoner's. And now +the problem narrowed to one most serious and crucial point--were the +Mallows and Chidforth of these references the Mallalieu and Cotherstone +of Highmarket. + +Speculating on this possibility, Brereton after his solitary dinner went +into Bent's smoking-room, and throwing himself into a chair before the +fire, lighted his pipe and proceeded to think things out. It was +abundantly clear to him by that time that Kitely and Stoner had been in +possession of a secret: it seemed certain that both had been murdered by +some person who desired to silence them. There was no possible doubt as +to Kitely's murder: from what Brereton had heard that afternoon there +seemed to be just as little doubt that Stoner had also been murdered. He +had heard what the local medical men had to say--one and all agreed that +though the clerk had received injuries in his fall which would produce +almost instantaneous death he had received a mortal blow before he fell. +Who struck that blow? Everything seemed to point to the fact that the +man who struck it was the man who strangled Kitely--a man of great +muscular power. + +Glancing around the room as he sat in a big easy chair, his hands behind +his head, Brereton's eyes fell suddenly on Kitely's legacy to Windle +Bent. The queer-looking old volume which, because of its black calf +binding and brass clasp, might easily have been taken for a prayer-book, +lay just where Bent had set it down on his desk when Christopher Pett +formally handed it over--so far as Brereton knew Bent up to now had +never even opened it. And it was with no particular motive that Brereton +now reached out and picked it up, and unsnapping the clasp began idly to +turn over the leaves on which the old detective had pasted cuttings from +newspapers and made entries in his crabbed handwriting. Brereton +believed that he was idly handling what Pett had jocosely described the +book to be--a mere scrap-book. It never entered his head that he held in +his hands almost the whole solution of the mystery which was puzzling +him. + +No man knows how inspiration comes to him, and Brereton never knew how +it was that suddenly, in the flash of an eye, in the swiftness of +thought, he knew that he had found what he wanted. Suggestion might have +had something to do with it. Kitely had written the word _Scrap-book_ on +the first blank page. Afterwards, at the tops of pages, he had filled in +dates in big figures--for reference--1875--1879--1887--and so on. And +Brereton suddenly saw, and understood, and realized. The cryptic entry +in Kitely's pocket-book became plain as the plainest print. _M. & C. v. +S. B. cir. 81_:--Brereton could amplify that now. Kitely, like all men +who dabble in antiquarian pursuits, knew a bit of Latin, and naturally +made an occasional airing of his knowledge. The full entry, of course, +meant M. &. C. _vide_ (=see) Scrap-Book _circa_ (=about) 1881. + +With a sharp exclamation of delight, Brereton turned over the pages of +that queer record of crime and detection until he came to one over which +the figure 1881 stood out boldly. A turn or two more of pages, and he +had found what he wanted. There it was--a long cutting from what was +evidently a local newspaper--a cutting which extended over two or three +leaves of the book--and at the end a memorandum in Kitely's handwriting, +evidently made some years before. The editor of that local newspaper had +considered the case which Kitely had so carefully scissored from his +columns worthy of four headlines in big capitals:-- + + + THE BUILDING SOCIETY DEFALCATIONS MALLOWS AND CHIDFORTH AT THE + WILCHESTER ASSIZES VERDICT AND SENTENCE + + +Brereton settled down to a careful reading of the report. There was +really nothing very remarkable about it--nothing exciting nor +sensational. It was indeed no more than a humdrum narrative of a vulgar +crime. But it was necessary that he should know all about it, and be +able to summarize it, and so he read it over with unusual care. It was a +very plain story--there were no complications. It appeared from the +evidence adduced that for some time previous to 1881 there had been in +existence in Wilchester a building society, the members of which were +chiefly of the small tradesman and better-class working-man order. Its +chief officials for a year or two had been John Mallows and Mark +Chidforth, who were respectively treasurer and secretary. Mallows was +foreman to a builder in the town; Chidforth was clerk to the same +employer. Both were young men. They were evidently regarded as smart +fellows. Up to the time of the revelations they had borne the very best +of characters. Each had lived in Wilchester since childhood; each had +continued his education at night schools and institute classes after the +usual elementary school days were over; each was credited with an +ambitious desire to rise in the world. Each, as a young man, was +attached to religious organizations--Mallows was a sidesman at one of +the churches, Chidforth was a Sunday-school teacher at one of the +chapels. Both had been fully and firmly trusted, and it appeared from +the evidence that they had had what practically amounted to unsupervised +control of the building society's funds. And--the really important +point--there was no doubt whatever that they had helped themselves to +some two thousand pounds of their fellow-members' money. + +All this was clear enough: it took little time for Brereton to acquaint +himself with these facts. What was not so clear was the whereabouts or +disposal of the money. From the evidence there appeared to be two +conflicting notions current in Wilchester at the time. Some people +apparently believed confidently that the two culprits had lost the money +in secret speculation and in gambling: other people were just as certain +that they had quietly put the money away in some safe quarter. The +prisoners themselves absolutely refused to give the least scrap of +information: ever since their arrest they had maintained a stolid +silence and a defiant demeanour. More than once during the progress of +the trial they had opportunities of making clean breasts of their +misdoings and refused to take them. Found guilty, they were put back +until next day for sentence--that, of course, was to give them another +chance of saying what they had done with the money. But they had kept up +their silence to the end, and they had been sentenced to two years' +imprisonment, with hard labour, and so had disappeared from public view, +with their secret--if there really was a secret--intact. + +So much for the newspaper cutting from the _Wilchester Sentinel_. But +there was more to read. The cutting came to an end on the top half of a +page in the scrap-book; underneath it on the blank half of the page +Kitely had made an entry, dated three years after the trial. + +"Wilchester: June 28, 1884. _Re_ above. Came down here on business today +and had a talk with police about M. & C. and the money. M. & C. never +been heard of since their release. Were released at same time, and seen +in the town an hour or two later, after which they disappeared--a man +who spoke to M. says that M. told him they were going to emigrate. They +are believed to have gone to Argentine. Both had relatives in +Wilchester, but either they don't know anything of M. & C.'s subsequent +doings, or they keep silence. No further trace of money, and opinion +still divided as to what they really did with it: many people in W. +firmly convinced that they had it safely planted, and have gone to it." + +To Brereton the whole affair was now as plain as a pikestaff. The old +detective, accidentally settling down at Highmarket, had recognized +Mallalieu and Cotherstone, the prosperous tradesmen of that little, +out-of-the-way town, as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had seen in +the dock at Wilchester, and he had revealed his knowledge to one or the +other or both. That was certain. But there were many things that were +far from certain. What had happened when Kitely revealed himself as a +man who had been a witness of their conviction in those far-off days? +How had he revealed himself? Had he endeavoured to blackmail them? It +was possible. + +But there was still more to think over. How had the dead clerk, Stoner, +got his knowledge of this great event in the life of his employers? Had +he got it from Kitely? That was not likely. Yet Stoner had written down +in his pocket-book an entry which was no more and no less than a +_précis_ of the absolute facts. Somehow, somewhere, Stoner had made +himself fully acquainted with Mallalieu and Cotherstone's secret. Did +Stoner's death arise out of a knowledge of that secret? On the face of +things there could be little doubt that it did. Who, then, struck the +blow which killed Stoner, or, if it did not actually kill him, caused +his death by bringing about the fall which broke his neck? Was it +Mallalieu?--or was it Cotherstone? + +That one or other, or both, were guilty of Kitely's murder, and possibly +of Stoner's, Brereton was by that time absolutely certain. And +realizing that certainty, he felt himself placed in a predicament which +could not fail to be painful. It was his duty, as counsel for an +innocent man, to press to the full his inquiries into the conduct of men +whom he believed to be guilty. In this he was faced with an unpleasant +situation. He cared nothing about Mallalieu. If Mallalieu was a guilty +man, let Mallalieu pay the richly-deserved consequences of his misdeeds. +Brereton, without being indifferent or vindictive or callous, knew that +it would not give him one extra heart-throb if he heard Mallalieu found +guilty and sentenced to the gallows. But Cotherstone was the father of +the girl to whom Windle Bent was shortly to be married--and Bent and +Brereton had been close friends ever since they first went to school +together. + +It was a sad situation, an unpleasant thing to face. He had come on a +visit to Bent, he had prolonged that visit in order to defend a man whom +he firmly believed to be as innocent as a child--and now he was to bring +disgrace and shame on a family with whom his host and friend was soon to +be allied by the closest of ties. But--better that than that an innocent +man should suffer! And walking up and down Bent's smoking-room, and +thinking the whole thing through and through, he half made up his mind +to tell Bent all about it when he returned. + +Brereton presently put on hat and coat and left the house. It was then +half-past seven; a sharp, frosty November evening, with an almost full +moon rising in a clear, star-sprinkled sky. The sudden change from the +warmth of the house to the frost-laden atmosphere of the hillside +quickened his mental faculties; he lighted his pipe, and resolved to +take a brisk walk along the road which led out of Highmarket and to +occupy himself with another review of the situation. A walk in the +country by day or night and in solitude had always had attractions for +Brereton and he set out on this with zest. But he had not gone a hundred +yards in the direction of the moors when Avice Harborough came out of +the gate of Northrop's garden and met him. + +"I was coming to see you," she said quietly. "I have heard something +that I thought you ought to hear, too--at once." + +"Yes?" responded Brereton. + +Avice drew an envelope from her muff and gave it to him. + +"A boy brought that to me half an hour ago," she said. "It is from an +old woman, Mrs. Hamthwaite, who lives in a very lonely place on the +moors up above Hobwick Quarry. Can you read it in this light?" + +"I will," answered Brereton, drawing a scrap of paper from the envelope. +"Here," he went on, giving it back to Avice, "you hold it, and I'll +strike a match--the moonlight's scarcely strong enough. Now," he +continued, taking a box of vestas from his pocket and striking one, +"steady--'If Miss Harborough will come up to see Susan Hamthwaite I will +tell you something that you might like to know.' Ah!" he exclaimed, +throwing away the match. "Now, how far is it to this old woman's +cottage?" + +"Two miles," replied Avice. + +"Can you go there now?" he asked. + +"I thought of doing so," she answered. + +"Come along, then," said Brereton. "We'll go together. If she objects to +my presence I'll leave you with her and wait about for you. Of course, +she wants to tell you something relating to your father." + +"You think so?" said Avice. "I only hope it is!" + +"Certain to be," he replied. "What else could it be?" + +"There are so many strange things to tell about, just now," she +remarked. "Besides, if old Mrs. Hamthwaite knows anything, why hasn't +she let me know until tonight?" + +"Oh, there's no accounting for that!" said Brereton. "Old women have +their own way of doing things. By the by," he continued, as they turned +out of the road and began to climb a path which led to the first ridge +of the moors outside the town, "I haven't seen you today--you've heard +of this Stoner affair?" + +"Mr. Northrop told me this afternoon," she replied. "What do you think +about it?" + +Brereton walked on a little way without replying. He was asking a +serious question of himself. Should he tell all he knew to Avice +Harborough? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A TALL MAN IN GREY CLOTHES + + +That question remained unanswered, and Brereton remained silent, until +he and Avice had reached the top of the path and had come out on the +edge of the wide stretch of moorland above the little town. He paused +for a moment and looked back on the roofs and gables of Highmarket, +shining and glittering in the moonlight; the girl paused too, wondering +at his silence. And with a curious abruptness he suddenly turned, laid a +hand on her arm, and gave it a firm, quick pressure. + +"Look here!" he said. "I'm going to trust you. I'm going to say to you +what I haven't said to a soul in that town!--not even to Tallington, +who's a man of the law, nor to Bent, who's my old friend. I want to say +something to somebody whom I can trust. I can trust you!" + +"Thank you," she answered quietly. "I--I think I understand. And you'll +understand, too, won't you, when I say--you can!" + +"That's all right," he said, cheerfully. "Of course! Now we understand +each other. Come on, then--you know the way--act as guide, and I'll tell +you as we go along." + +Avice turned off into what appeared to be no more than a sheep-track +across the heather. Within a few minutes they were not only quite alone, +but out of sight of any human habitation. It seemed to Brereton that +they were suddenly shut into a world of their own, as utterly apart from +the little world they had just left as one star is from another. But +even as he thought this he saw, far away across the rising and falling +of the heather-clad undulations, the moving lights of a train that was +speeding southward along the coast-line from Norcaster, and presently +the long scream of a whistle from its engine came on the light breeze +that blew inland from the hidden sea, and the sight and sound recalled +him to the stern realities of life. + +"Listen, then, carefully," he began. "And bear in mind that I'm putting +what I believe to be safety of other men in your hands. It's this +way...." + +Avice Harborough listened in absolute silence as Brereton told her his +carefully arranged story. They walked slowly across the moor as he told +it; now dipping into a valley, now rising above the ridge of a low hill; +sometimes pausing altogether as he impressed some particular point upon +her. In the moonlight he could see that she was listening eagerly and +intently, but she never interrupted him and never asked a question. And +at last, just as they came in sight of a light that burned in the window +of a little moorland cottage, snugly planted in a hollow beneath the +ridge which they were then traversing, he brought his story to an end +and turned inquiringly to her. + +"There!" he said. "That's all. Now try to consider it without +prejudice--if you can. How does it appear to you?" + +Instead of replying directly the girl walked on in silence for a moment +or two, and suddenly turned to Brereton with an impulsive movement. + +"You've given me your confidence and I'll give you mine!" she exclaimed. +"Perhaps I ought to have given it before--to you or to Mr. +Tallington--but--I didn't like. I've wondered about Mallalieu! Wondered +if--if he did kill that old man. And wondered if he tried to put the +blame on my father out of revenge!" + +"Revenge!" exclaimed Brereton. "What do you mean?" + +"My father offended him--not so very long ago, either," she answered. +"Last year--I'll tell you it all, plainly--Mr. Mallalieu began coming to +our cottage at times. First he came to see my father about killing the +rats which had got into his out-buildings. Then he made excuses--he used +to come, any way--at night. He began to come when my father was out, as +he often was. He would sit down and smoke and talk. I didn't like it--I +don't like him. Then he used to meet me in the wood in the Shawl, as I +came home from the Northrops'. I complained to my father about it and +one night my father came in and found him here. My father, Mr. Brereton, +is a very queer man and a very plain-spoken man. He told Mr. Mallalieu +that neither of us desired his company and told him to go away. And Mr. +Mallalieu lost his temper and said angry things." + +"And your father?" said Brereton. "Did he lose his temper, too?" + +"No!" replied Avice. "He has a temper--but he kept it that night. He +never spoke to Mr. Mallalieu in return. He let him say his say--until +he'd got across the threshold, and then he just shut the door on him. +But--I know how angry Mr. Mallalieu was." + +Brereton stood silently considering matters for a moment. Then he +pointed to the light in the window beneath them, and moved towards it. + +"I'm glad you told me that," he said. "It may account for something +that's puzzled me a great deal--I must think it out. But at present--is +that the old woman's lamp?" + +Avice led the way down to the hollow by a narrow path which took them +into a little stone-walled enclosure where a single Scotch fir-tree +stood sentinel over a typical moorland homestead of the smaller sort--a +one-storied house of rough stone, the roof of which was secured from +storm and tempest by great boulders slung on stout ropes, and having +built on to it an equally rough shelter for some small stock of cows and +sheep. Out of a sheer habit of reflection on things newly seen, Brereton +could not avoid wondering what life was like, lived in this solitude, +and in such a perfect hermitage--but his speculations were cut short by +the opening of the door set deep within the whitewashed porch. An old +woman, much bent by age, looked out upon him and Avice, holding a small +lamp so that its light fell on their faces. + +"Come your ways in, joy!" she said hospitably. "I was expecting you'd +come up tonight: I knew you'd want to have a word with me as soon as +you could. Come in and sit you down by the fire--it's coldish o' nights, +to be sure, and there's frost in the air. + +"This gentleman may come in, too, mayn't he, Mrs. Hamthwaite?" asked +Avice as she and Brereton stepped within the porch. "He's the +lawyer-gentleman who's defending my father--you won't mind speaking +before him, will you?" + +"Neither before him, nor behind him, nor yet to him," answered Mrs. +Hamthwaite with a chuckle. "I've talked to lawyers afore today, many's +the time! Come your ways in, sir--sit you down." + +She carefully closed the door on her guests and motioned them to seats +by a bright fire of turf, and then setting the lamp on the table, seated +herself in a corner of her long-settle and folding her hands in her +apron took a long look at her visitors through a pair of unusually large +spectacles. And Brereton, genuinely interested, took an equally long +look at her; and saw a woman who was obviously very old but whose face +was eager, intelligent, and even vivacious. As this queer old face +turned from one to the other, its wrinkles smoothed out into a smile. + +"You'll be wondering what I've got to tell, love," said Mrs. Hamthwaite, +turning to Avice. "And no doubt you want to know why I haven't sent for +you before now. But you see, since that affair happened down your way, I +been away. Aye, I been to see my daughter--as lives up the coast. And I +didn't come home till today. And I'm no hand at writing letters. However +here we are, and better late than never and no doubt this lawyer +gentleman'll be glad to hear what I can tell him and you." + +"Very glad indeed!" responded Brereton. "What is it?" + +The old woman turned to a box which stood in a recess in the ingle-nook +at her elbow and took from it a folded newspaper. + +"Me and my daughter and her husband read this here account o' the case +against Harborough as it was put before the magistrates," she said. "We +studied it. Now you want to know where Harborough was on the night that +old fellow was done away with. That's it, master, what?" + +"That is it," answered Brereton, pressing his arm against Avice, who sat +close at his side. "Yes, indeed! And you----" + +"I can tell you where Harborough was between nine o'clock and ten +o'clock that night," replied Mrs. Hamthwaite, with a smile that was not +devoid of cunning. "I know, if nobody else knows!" + +"Where, then?" demanded Brereton. + +The old woman leaned forward across the hearth. + +"Up here on the moor!" she whispered. "Not five minutes' walk from here. +At a bit of a place--Miss there'll know it--called Good Folks' Lift. A +little rise i' the ground where the fairies used to dance, you know, +master." + +"You saw him?" asked Brereton. + +"I saw him," chuckled Mrs. Hamthwaite. "And if I don't know him, why +then, his own daughter doesn't!" + +"You'd better tell us all about it," said Brereton. + +Mrs. Hamthwaite gave him a sharp look. "I've given evidence to law folks +before today," she said. "You'll want to know what I could tell before a +judge, like?" + +"Of course," replied Brereton. + +"Well, then----" she continued. "You see, master, since my old man died, +I've lived all alone up here. I've a bit to live on--not over much, but +enough. All the same, if I can save a bit by getting a hare or a rabbit, +or a bird or two now and then, off the moor--well, I do! We all of us +does that, as lives on the moor: some folks calls it poaching, but we +call it taking our own. Now then, on that night we're talking about, I +went along to Good Folks' Lift to look at some snares I'd set early that +day. There's a good deal of bush and scrub about that place--I was +amongst the bushes when I heard steps, and I looked out and saw a tall +man in grey clothes coming close by. How did I know he were in grey +clothes? Why, 'cause he stopped close by me to light his pipe! But he'd +his back to me, so I didn't see his full face, only a side of it. He +were a man with a thin, greyish beard. Well, he walks past there, not +far--and then I heard other steps. Then I heard your father's voice, +miss--and I see the two of 'em meet. They stood, whispering together, +for a minute or so--then they came back past me, and they went off +across the moor towards Hexendale. And soon they were out of sight, and +when I'd finished what I was after I came my ways home. That's all, +master--but if yon old man was killed down in Highmarket Shawl Wood +between nine and ten o'clock that night, then Jack Harborough didn't +kill him, for Jack was up here at soon after nine, and him and the tall +man went away in the opposite direction!" + +"You're sure about the time?" asked Brereton anxiously. + +"Certain, master! It was ten minutes to nine when I went out--nearly ten +when I come back. My clock's always right--I set it by the almanack and +the sunrise and sunset every day--and you can't do better," asserted +Mrs. Hamthwaite. + +"You're equally sure about the second man being Harborough?" insisted +Brereton. "You couldn't be mistaken?" + +"Mistaken? No!--master, I know Harborough's voice, and his figure, aye, +and his step as well as I know my own fireside," declared Mrs. +Hamthwaite. "Of course I know it were Harborough--no doubt on't!" + +"How are you sure that this was the evening of the murder?" asked +Brereton. "Can you prove that it was?" + +"Easy!" said Mrs. Hamthwaite. "The very next morning I went away to see +my daughter up the coast. I heard of the old man's murder at High Gill +Junction. But I didn't hear then that Harborough was suspected--didn't +hear that till later on, when we read it in the newspapers." + +"And the other man--the tall man in grey clothes, who has a slightly +grey beard--you didn't know him?" + +Mrs. Hamthwaite made a face which seemed to suggest uncertainty. + +"Well, I'll tell you," she answered. "I believe him to be a man that I +have seen about this here neighbourhood two or three times during this +last eighteen months or so. If you really want to know, I'm a good deal +about them moors o' nights; old as I am, I'm very active, and I go about +a goodish bit--why not? And I have seen a man about now and then--months +between, as a rule--that I couldn't account for--and I believe it's this +fellow that was with Harborough." + +"And you say they went away in the direction of Hexendale?" said +Brereton. "Where is Hexendale?" + +The old woman pointed westward. + +"Inland," she answered. "Over yonder. Miss there knows Hexendale well +enough." + +"Hexendale is a valley--with a village of the same name in it--that lies +about five miles away on the other side of the moors," said Avice. +"There's another line of railway there--this man Mrs. Hamthwaite speaks +of could come and go by that." + +"Well," remarked Brereton presently, "we're very much obliged to you, +ma'am, and I'm sure you won't have any objection to telling all this +again at the proper time and place, eh?" + +"Eh, bless you, no!" answered Mrs. Hamthwaite. "I'll tell it wherever +you like, master--before Lawyer Tallington, or the magistrates, or the +crowner, or anybody! But I'll tell you what, if you'll take a bit of +advice from an old woman--you're a sharp-looking young man, and I'll +tell you what I should do if I were in your place--now then!" + +"Well, what?" asked Brereton good-humouredly. + +Mrs. Hamthwaite clapped him on the shoulder as she opened the door for +her visitors. + +"Find that tall man in the grey clothes!" she said. "Get hold of him! +He's the chap you want!" + +Brereton went silently away, meditating on the old woman's last words. + +"But where are we to find him?" he suddenly exclaimed. "Who is he?" + +"I don't think that puzzles me," remarked Avice. "He's the man who sent +the nine hundred pounds." + +Brereton smote his stick on the heather at their feet. + +"By George!--I never thought of that!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't +wonder!--I shouldn't wonder at all. Hooray!--we're getting nearer and +nearer to something." + +But he knew that still another step was at hand--an unpleasant, painful +step--when, on getting back to Bent's, an hour later, Bent told him that +Lettie had been cajoled into fixing the day of the wedding, and that the +ceremony was to take place with the utmost privacy that day week. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +AT BAY + + +It was only by an immense effort of will that Brereton prevented an +exclamation and a start of surprise. But of late he had been perpetually +on the look-out for all sorts of unforeseen happenings and he managed to +do no more than show a little natural astonishment. + +"What, so soon!" he said. "Dear me, old chap!--I didn't think of its +being this side of Christmas." + +"Cotherstone's set on it," answered Bent. "He seems to be turning into a +regular hypochondriac. I hope nothing is really seriously wrong with +him. But anyway--this day week. And you'll play your part of best man, +of course." + +"Oh, of course!" agreed Brereton. "And then--are you going away?" + +"Yes, but not for as long as we'd meant," said Bent. "We'll run down to +the Riviera for a few weeks--I've made all my arrangements today. Well, +any fresh news about this last bad business? This Stoner affair, of +course, has upset Cotherstone dreadfully. When is all this mystery +coming to an end, Brereton? There is one thing dead certain--Harborough +isn't guilty in this case. That is, if Stoner really was killed by the +blow they talk of." + +But Brereton refused to discuss matters that night. He pleaded fatigue, +he had been at it all day long, he said, and his brain was confused and +tired and needed rest. And presently he went off to his room--and when +he got there he let out a groan of dismay. For one thing was +imperative--Bent's marriage must not take place while there was the +least chance of a terrible charge being suddenly let loose on +Cotherstone. + +He rose in the morning with his mind made up on the matter. There was +but one course to adopt--and it must be adopted immediately. Cotherstone +must be spoken to--Cotherstone must be told of what some people at any +rate knew about him and his antecedents. Let him have a chance to +explain himself. After all, he might have some explanation. But--and +here Brereton's determination became fixed and stern--it must be +insisted upon that he should tell Bent everything. + +Bent always went out very early in the morning, to give an eye to his +business, and he usually breakfasted at his office. That was one of the +mornings on which he did not come back to the house, and Brereton +accordingly breakfasted alone, and had not seen his host when he, too, +set out for the town. He had already decided what to do--he would tell +everything to Tallington. Tallington was a middle-aged man of a great +reputation for common-sense and for probity; as a native of the town, +and a dweller in it all his life, he knew Cotherstone well, and he would +give sound advice as to what methods should be followed in dealing with +him. And so to Tallington Brereton, arriving just after the solicitor +had finished reading his morning's letters, poured out the whole story +which he had learned from the ex-detective's scrap-book and from the +memorandum made by Stoner in his pocket-book. + +Tallington listened with absorbed attention, his face growing graver and +graver as Brereton marshalled the facts and laid stress on one point of +evidence after another. He was a good listener--a steady, watchful +listener--Brereton saw that he was not only taking in every fact and +noting every point, but was also weighing up the mass of testimony. And +when the story came to its end he spoke with decision, spoke, too, just +as Brereton expected he would, making no comment, offering no opinion, +but going straight to the really critical thing. + +"There are only two things to be done," said Tallington. "They're the +only things that can be done. We must send for Bent, and tell him. Then +we must get Cotherstone here, and tell him. No other course--none!" + +"Bent first?" asked Brereton. + +"Certainly! Bent first, by all means. It's due to him. Besides," said +Tallington, with a grim smile, "it would be decidedly unpleasant for +Cotherstone to compel him to tell Bent, or for us to tell Bent in +Cotherstone's presence. And--we'd better get to work at once, Brereton! +Otherwise--this will get out in another way." + +"You mean--through the police?" said Brereton. + +"Surely!" replied Tallington. "This can't be kept in a corner. For +anything we know somebody may be at work, raking it all up, just now. Do +you suppose that unfortunate lad Stoner kept his knowledge to himself? +I don't! No--at once! Come, Bent's office is only a minute away--I'll +send one of my clerks for him. Painful, very--but necessary." + +The first thing that Bent's eyes encountered when he entered +Tallington's private room ten minutes later was the black-bound, +brass-clasped scrap-book, which Brereton had carried down with him and +had set on the solicitor's desk. He started at the sight of it, and +turned quickly from one man to the other. + +"What's that doing here?" he asked, "is--have you made some discovery? +Why am I wanted?" + +Once more Brereton had to go through the story. But his new listener did +not receive it in the calm and phlegmatic fashion in which it had been +received by the practised ear of the man of law. Bent was at first +utterly incredulous; then indignant: he interrupted; he asked questions +which he evidently believed to be difficult to answer; he was +fighting--and both his companions, sympathizing keenly with him, knew +why. But they never relaxed their attitude, and in the end Bent looked +from one to the other with a cast-down countenance in which doubt was +beginning to change into certainty. + +"You're convinced of--all this?" he demanded suddenly. "Both of you? +It's your conviction?" + +"It's mine," answered Tallington quietly. + +"I'd give a good deal for your sake, Bent, if it were not mine," said +Brereton. "But--it is mine. I'm--sure!" + +Bent jumped from his chair. + +"Which of them is it, then?" he exclaimed. "Gad!--you don't mean to say +that Cotherstone is--a murderer! Good heavens!--think of what that would +mean to--to----" + +Tallington got up and laid a hand on Bent's arm. + +"We won't say or think anything until we hear what Cotherstone has to +say," he said. "I'll step along the street and fetch him, myself. I know +he'll be alone just now, because I saw Mallalieu go into the Town Hall +ten minutes ago--there's an important committee meeting there this +morning over which he has to preside. Pull yourself together, +Bent--Cotherstone may have some explanation of everything." + +Mallalieu & Cotherstone's office was only a few yards away along the +street; Tallington was back from it with Cotherstone in five minutes. +And Brereton, looking closely at Cotherstone as he entered and saw who +awaited him, was certain that Cotherstone was ready for anything. A +sudden gleam of understanding came into his sharp eyes; it was as if he +said to himself that here was a moment, a situation, a crisis, which he +had anticipated, and--he was prepared. It was an outwardly calm and cool +Cotherstone, who, with a quick glance at all three men and at the closed +door, took the chair which Tallington handed to him, and turned on the +solicitor with a single word. + +"Well?" + +"As I told you in coming along," said Tallington, "we want to speak to +you privately about some information which has been placed in our +hands--that is, of course, in Mr. Brereton's and in mine. We have +thought it well to already acquaint Mr. Bent with it. All this is +between ourselves, Mr. Cotherstone--so treat us as candidly as we'll +treat you. I can put everything to you in a few words. They're painful. +Are you and your partner, Mr. Mallalieu, the same persons as the +Chidforth and Mallows who were prosecuted for fraud at Wilchester +Assizes in 1881 and sentenced to two years' imprisonment?" + +Cotherstone neither started nor flinched. There was no sign of weakness +nor of hesitation about him now. Instead, he seemed to have suddenly +recovered all the sharpness and vigour with which two at any rate of the +three men who were so intently watching him had always associated with +him. He sat erect and watchful in his chair, and his voice became clear +and strong. + +"Before I answer that question, Mr. Tallington," he said, "I'll ask one +of Mr. Bent here. It's this--is my daughter going to suffer from aught +that may or may not be raked up against her father? Let me know +that!--if you want any words from me." + +Bent flushed angrily. + +"You ought to know what my answer is!" he exclaimed. "It's no!" + +"That'll do!" said Cotherstone. "I know you--you're a man of your word." +He turned to Tallington. "Now I'll reply to you," he went on. "My +answer's in one word, too. Yes!" + +Tallington opened Kitely's scrap-book at the account of the trial at +Wilchester, placed it before Cotherstone, and indicated certain lines +with the point of a pencil. + +"You're the Chidforth mentioned there?" he asked quietly. "And your +partner's the Mallows?" + +"That's so," replied Cotherstone, so imperturbably that all three looked +at him in astonishment. "That's quite so, Mr. Tallington." + +"And this is an accurate report of what happened?" asked Tallington, +trailing the pencil over the newspaper. "That is, as far as you can see +at a glance?" + +"Oh, I daresay it is," said Cotherstone, airily. "That was the best +paper in the town--I daresay it's all right. Looks so, anyway." + +"You know that Kitely was present at that trial?" suggested Tallington, +who, like Brereton, was beginning to be mystified by Cotherstone's +coolness. + +"Well," answered Cotherstone, with a shake of his head, "I know now. But +I never did know until that afternoon of the day on which the old man +was murdered. If you're wanting the truth, he came into our office that +afternoon to pay his rent to me, and he told me then. And--if you want +more truth--he tried to blackmail me. He was to come next day--at four +o'clock--to hear what me and Mallalieu 'ud offer him for hush-money." + +"Then you told Mallalieu?" asked Tallington. + +"Of course I told him!" replied Cotherstone. "Told him as soon as Kitely +had gone. It was a facer for both of us--to be recognized, and to have +all that thrown up against us, after thirty years' honest work!" + +The three listeners looked silently at each other. A moment of suspence +passed. Then Tallington put the question which all three were burning +with eagerness to have answered. + +"Mr. Cotherstone!--do you know who killed Kitely?" + +"No!" answered Cotherstone. "But I know who I think killed him!" + +"Who, then?" demanded Tallington. + +"The man who killed Bert Stoner," said Cotherstone firmly. "And for the +same reason." + +"And this man is----" + +Tallington left the question unfinished. For Cotherstone's alert face +took a new and determined expression, and he raised himself a little in +his chair and brought his lifted hand down heavily on the desk at his +side. + +"Mallalieu!" he exclaimed. "Mallalieu! I believe he killed Kitely. I +suspicioned it from the first, and I came certain of it on Sunday night. +Why? _Because I saw Mallalieu fell Stoner!_" + +There was a dead silence in the room for a long, painful minute. +Tallington broke it at last by repeating Cotherstone's last words. + +"You saw Mallalieu fell Stoner? Yourself?" + +"With these eyes! Look here!" exclaimed Cotherstone, again bringing his +hand down heavily on the desk. "I went up there by Hobwick Quarry on +Sunday afternoon--to do a bit of thinking. As I got to that spinney at +the edge of the quarry, I saw Mallalieu and our clerk. They were +fratching--quarrelling--I could hear 'em as well as see 'em. And I +slipped behind a big bush and waited and watched. I could see and hear, +even at thirty yards off, that Stoner was maddening Mallalieu, though of +course I couldn't distinguish precise words. And all of a sudden +Mallalieu's temper went, and he lets out with that heavy oak stick of +his and fetches the lad a crack right over his forehead--and with Stoner +starting suddenly back the old railings gave way and--down he went. +That's what I saw--and I saw Mallalieu kick that stick into the quarry +in a passion, and--I've got it!" + +"You've got it?" said Tallington. + +"I've got it!" repeated Cotherstone. "I watched Mallalieu--after this +was over. Once I thought he saw me--but he evidently decided he was +alone. I could see he was taking on rarely. He went down to the quarry +as it got dusk--he was there some time. Then at last he went away on the +opposite side. And I went down when he'd got clear away and I went +straight to where the stick was. And as I say, I've got it." + +Tallington looked at Brereton, and Brereton spoke for the first time. + +"Mr. Cotherstone must see that all this should be told to the police," +he said. + +"Wait a bit," replied Cotherstone. "I've not done telling my tales here +yet. Now that I am talking, I will talk! Bent!" he continued, turning to +his future son-in-law. "What I'm going to say now is for your benefit. +But these lawyers shall hear. This old Wilchester business has been +raked up--how, I don't know. Now then, you shall all know the truth +about that! I did two years--for what? For being Mallalieu's catspaw!" + +Tallington suddenly began to drum his fingers on the blotting-pad which +lay in front of him. From this point he watched Cotherstone with an +appearance of speculative interest which was not lost on Brereton. + +"Ah!" he remarked quietly. "You were Mallalieu's--or Mallows'--catspaw? +That is--he was the really guilty party in the Wilchester affair, of +Which that's an account?" + +"Doesn't it say here that he was treasurer?" retorted Cotherstone, +laying his hand on the open scrap-book. "He was--he'd full control of +the money. He drew me into things--drew me into 'em in such a clever way +that when the smash came I couldn't help myself. I had to go through +with it. And I never knew until--until the two years was over--that +Mallalieu had that money safely put away." + +"But--you got to know, eventually," remarked Tallington. "And--I +suppose--you agreed to make use of it?" + +Cotherstone smote the table again. + +"Yes!" he said with some heat. "And don't you get any false ideas, Mr. +Tallington. Bent!--I've paid that money back--I, myself. Each penny of +it--two thousand pound, with four per cent. interest for thirty years! +I've done it--Mallalieu knows naught about it. And here's the receipt. +So now then!" + +"When did you pay it, Mr. Cotherstone?" asked Tallington, as Bent +unwillingly took the paper which Cotherstone drew from a pocket-book and +handed to him. "Some time ago, or lately?" + +"If you want to know," retorted Cotherstone, "it was the very day after +old Kitely was killed. I sent it through a friend of mine who still +lives in Wilchester. I wanted to be done with it--I didn't want to have +it brought up against me that anybody lost aught through my fault. And +so--I paid." + +"But--I'm only suggesting--you could have paid a long time before that, +couldn't you?" said Tallington. "The longer you waited, the more you had +to pay. Two thousand pounds, with thirty years' interest, at four per +cent.--why, that's four thousand four hundred pounds altogether!" + +"That's what he paid," said Bent. "Here's the receipt." + +"Mr. Cotherstone is telling us--privately--everything," remarked +Tallington, glancing at the receipt and passing it on to Brereton. "I +wish he'd tell us--privately, as I say--why he paid that money the day +after Kitely's murder. Why, Mr. Cotherstone?" + +Cotherstone, ready enough to answer and to speak until then, flushed +angrily and shook his head. But he was about to speak when a gentle +tap came at Tallington's door, and before the solicitor could make +any response, the door was opened from without, and the +police-superintendent walked in, accompanied by two men whom Brereton +recognized as detectives from Norcaster. + +"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Tallington," said the superintendent, "but I +heard Mr. Cotherstone was here. Mr. Cotherstone!--I shall have to ask +you to step across with me to the office. Will you come over now?--it'll +be best." + +"Not until I know what I'm wanted for," answered Cotherstone +determinedly. "What is it?" + +The superintendent sighed and shook his head. + +"Very well--it's not my fault, then," he answered. "The fact is we want +both you and Mr. Mallalieu for this Stoner affair. That's the plain +truth! The warrants were issued an hour ago--and we've got Mr. Mallalieu +already. Come on, Mr. Cotherstone!--there's no help for it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE INTERRUPTED FLIGHT + + +Twenty-four hours after he had seen Stoner fall headlong into Hobwick +Quarry, Mallalieu made up his mind for flight. And as soon as he had +come to that moment of definite decision, he proceeded to arrange for +his disappearance with all the craft and subtlety of which he was a past +master. He would go, once and for all, and since he was to go he would +go in such a fashion that nobody should be able to trace him. + +After munching his sandwich and drinking his ale at the Highmarket Arms, +Mallalieu had gone away to Hobwick Quarry and taken a careful look +round. Just as he had expected, he found a policeman or two and a few +gaping townsfolk there. He made no concealment of his own curiosity; he +had come up, he said, to see what there was to be seen at the place +where his clerk had come to this sad end. He made one of the policemen +take him up to the broken railings at the brink of the quarry; together +they made a careful examination of the ground. + +"No signs of any footprints hereabouts, the superintendent says," +remarked Mallalieu as they looked around. "You haven't seen aught of +that sort!" + +"No, your Worship--we looked for that when we first came up," answered +the policeman. "You see this grass is that short and wiry that it's too +full of spring to show marks. No, there's naught, anywhere about--we've +looked a goodish way on both sides." + +Mallalieu went close to the edge of the quarry and looked down. His +sharp, ferrety eyes were searching everywhere for his stick. A little to +the right of his position the side of the quarry shelved less abruptly +than at the place where Stoner had fallen; on the gradual slope there, a +great mass of bramble and gorse, broom and bracken, clustered: he gazed +hard at it, thinking that the stick might have lodged in its meshes. It +would be an easy thing to see that stick in daylight; it was a brightish +yellow colour and would be easily distinguished against the prevalent +greens and browns around there. But he saw nothing of it, and his brain, +working around the event of the night before, began to have confused +notions of the ringing of the stick on the lime-stone slabs at the +bottom of the quarry. + +"Aye!" he said musingly, with a final look round. "A nasty place to fall +over, and a bad job--a bad job! Them rails," he continued, pointing to +the broken fencing, "why, they're rotten all through! If a man put his +weight on them, they'd be sure to give way. The poor young fellow must +ha' sat down to rest himself a bit, on the top one, and of course, smash +they went." + +"That's what I should ha' said, your Worship," agreed the policeman, +"but some of 'em that were up here seemed to think he'd been forced +through 'em, or thrown against 'em, violent, as it might be. They think +he was struck down--from the marks of a blow that they found." + +"Aye, just so," said Mallalieu, "but he could get many blows on him as +he fell down them rocks. Look for yourself!--there's not only rough +edges of stone down there, but snags and roots of old trees that he'd +strike against in falling. Accident, my lad!--that's what it's +been--sheer and pure accident." + +The policeman neither agreed with nor contradicted the Mayor, and +presently they went down to the bottom of the quarry again, where +Mallalieu, under pretence of thoroughly seeing into everything, walked +about all over the place. He did not find the stick, and he was quite +sure that nobody else had found it. Finally he went away, convinced that +it lay in some nook or cranny of the shelving slope on to which he had +kicked it in his sudden passion of rage. There, in all probability, it +would remain for ever, for it would never occur to the police that +whoever wielded whatever weapon it was that struck the blow would not +carry the weapon away with him. No--on the point of the stick Mallalieu +began to feel easy and confident. + +He grew still easier and more confident about the whole thing during the +course of the afternoon. He went about the town; he was in and out of +the Town Hall; he kept calling in at the police-station; he became +certain towards evening that no suspicion attached to himself--as yet. +But--only as yet. He knew something would come out. The big question +with him as he went home in the evening was--was he safe until the +afternoon of the next day? While he ate and drank in his lonely +dining-room, he decided that he was; by the time he had got through his +after-dinner cigar he had further decided that when the next night came +he would be safely away from Highmarket. + +But there were things to do that night. He spent an hour with a Bradshaw +and a map. While he reckoned up trains and glanced at distances and +situations his mind was busy with other schemes, for he had all his life +been a man who could think of more than one thing at once. And at the +end of the hour he had decided on a plan of action. + +Mallalieu had two chief objects in immediate view. He wanted to go away +openly from Highmarket without exciting suspicion: that was one. He +wanted to make it known that he had gone to some definite place, on some +definite mission; that was the other. And in reckoning up his chances he +saw how fortune was favouring him. At that very time the Highmarket Town +Council was very much concerned and busied about a new water-supply. +There was a project afoot for joining with another town, some miles off, +in establishing a new system and making a new reservoir on the adjacent +hills, and on the very next morning Mallalieu himself was to preside +over a specially-summoned committee which was to debate certain matters +relating to this scheme. He saw how he could make use of that +appointment. He would profess that he was not exactly pleased with some +of the provisions of the proposed amalgamation, and would state his +intention, in open meeting, of going over in person to the other town +that very evening to see its authorities on the points whereon he was +not satisfied. Nobody would see anything suspicious in his going away on +Corporation business. An excellent plan for his purpose--for in order to +reach the other town it would be necessary to pass through Norcaster, +where he would have to change stations. And Norcaster was a very big +city, and a thickly-populated one, and it had some obscure parts with +which Mallalieu was well-acquainted--and in Norcaster he could enter on +the first important stage of his flight. + +And so, being determined, Mallalieu made his final preparations. They +were all connected with money. If he felt a pang at the thought of +leaving his Highmarket property behind him, it was assuaged by the +reflection that, after all, that property only represented the price of +his personal safety--perhaps (though he did not like to think of that) +of his life. Besides, events might turn out so luckily that the +enjoyment of it might be restored to him--it was possible. Whether that +possibility ever came off or not, he literally dared not regard it just +then. To put himself in safety was the one, the vital consideration. And +his Highmarket property and his share in the business only represented a +part of Mallalieu's wealth. He could afford to do without all that he +left behind him; it was a lot to leave, he sighed regretfully, but he +would still be a very wealthy man if he never touched a pennyworth of it +again. + +From the moment in which Mallalieu had discovered that Kitely knew the +secret of the Wilchester affair he had prepared for eventualities, and +Kitely's death had made no difference to his plans. If one man could +find all that out, he argued, half a dozen other men might find it out. +The murder of the ex-detective, indeed, had strengthened his resolve to +be prepared. He foresaw that suspicion might fall on Cotherstone; deeper +reflection showed him that if Cotherstone became an object of suspicion +he himself would not escape. And so he had prepared himself. He had got +together his valuable securities; they were all neatly bestowed in a +stout envelope which fitted into the inner pocket of a waistcoat which +he once had specially made to his own design: a cleverly arranged +garment, in which a man could carry a lot of wealth--in paper. There in +that pocket it all was--Government stock, railway stock, scrip, shares, +all easily convertible, anywhere in the world where men bought and sold +the best of gilt-edged securities. And in another pocket Mallalieu had a +wad of bank-notes which he had secured during the previous week from a +London bank at which he kept an account, and in yet another, a cunningly +arranged one, lined out with wash-leather, and secured by a strong flap, +belted and buckled, he carried gold. + +Mallalieu kept that waistcoat and its precious contents under his pillow +that night. And next morning he attired himself with particular care, +and in the hip pocket of his trousers he placed a revolver which he had +recently purchased, and for the first time for a fortnight he ate his +usual hearty breakfast. After which he got into his most serviceable +overcoat and went away townwards ... and if anybody had been watching +him they would have seen that Mallalieu never once turned his head to +take a look at the house which he had built, and might be leaving for +ever. + +Everything that Mallalieu did that morning was done with method. He was +in and about his office and his yard for an hour or two, attending to +business in his customary fashion. He saw Cotherstone, and did not speak +to him except on absolutely necessary matters. No word was said by +either in relation to Stoner's death. But about ten o'clock Mallalieu +went across to the police-station and into the superintendent's office, +and convinced himself that nothing further had come to light, and no new +information had been given. The coroner's officer was with the police, +and Mallalieu discussed with him and them some arrangements about the +inquest. With every moment the certainty that he was safe increased--and +at eleven o'clock he went into the Town Hall to his committee meeting. + +Had Mallalieu chanced to look back at the door of the police-station as +he entered the ancient door of the Town Hall he would have seen three +men drive up there in a motor-car which had come from Norcaster--one of +the men being Myler, and the other two Norcaster detectives. But +Mallalieu did not look back. He went up to the committee-room and became +absorbed in the business of the meeting. His fellow committee-men said +afterwards that they never remembered the Mayor being in such fettle for +business. He explained his objections to the scheme they were +considering; he pointed out this and urged that--finally, he said that +he was so little satisfied with the project that he would go and see +the Mayor of the sister town that very evening, and discuss the matter +with him to the last detail. + +Mallalieu stepped out of the committee-room to find the superintendent +awaiting him in the corridor. The superintendent was pale and trembling, +and his eyes met Mallalieu's with a strange, deprecating expression. +Before he could speak, two strangers emerged from a doorway and came +close up. And a sudden sickening sense of danger came over Mallalieu, +and his tongue failed him. + +"Mr. Mayor!" faltered the superintendent. "I--I can't help it! These are +officers from Norcaster, sir--there's a warrant for your arrest. +It's--it's the Stoner affair!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HAND IN THE DARKNESS + + +The Highmarket clocks were striking noon when Mallalieu was arrested. +For three hours he remained under lock and key, in a room in the Town +Hall--most of the time alone. His lunch was brought to him; every +consideration was shown him. The police wanted to send for his solicitor +from Norcaster; Mallalieu bade them mind their own business. He turned a +deaf ear to the superintendent's entreaties to him to see some friend; +let him mind his own business too, said Mallalieu. He himself would do +nothing until he saw the need to do something. Let him hear what could +be brought against him--time enough to speak and act then. He ate his +lunch, he smoked a cigar; he walked out of the room with defiant eye and +head erect when they came to fetch him before a specially summoned bench +of his fellow-magistrates. And it was not until he stepped into the +dock, in full view of a crowded court, and amidst quivering excitement, +that he and Cotherstone met. + +The news of the partners' arrest had flown through the little town like +wildfire. There was no need to keep it secret; no reason why it should +be kept secret. It was necessary to bring the accused men before the +magistrates as quickly as possible, and the days of private inquiries +were long over. Before the Highmarket folk had well swallowed their +dinners, every street in the town, every shop, office, bar-parlour, +public-house, private house rang with the news--Mallalieu and +Cotherstone, the Mayor and the Borough Treasurer, had been arrested for +the murder of their clerk, and would be put before the magistrates at +three o'clock. The Kitely affair faded into insignificance--except +amongst the cute and knowing few, who immediately began to ask if the +Hobwick Quarry murder had anything to do with the murder on the Shawl. + +If Mallalieu and Cotherstone could have looked out of the windows of the +court in the Town Hall, they would have seen the Market Square packed +with a restless and seething crowd of townsfolk, all clamouring for +whatever news could permeate from the packed chamber into which so few +had been able to fight a way. But the prisoners seemed strangely +indifferent to their surroundings. Those who watched them closely--as +Brereton and Tallington did--noticed that neither took any notice of the +other. Cotherstone had been placed in the dock first. When Mallalieu was +brought there, a moment later, the two exchanged one swift glance and no +more--Cotherstone immediately moved off to the far corner on the left +hand, Mallalieu remained in the opposite one, and placing his hands in +the pockets of his overcoat, he squared his shoulders and straitened his +big frame and took a calm and apparently contemptuous look round about +him. + +Brereton, sitting at a corner of the solicitor's table, and having +nothing to do but play the part of spectator, watched these two men +carefully and with absorbed interest from first to last. He was soon +aware of the vastly different feelings with which they themselves +watched the proceedings. Cotherstone was eager and restless; he could +not keep still; he moved his position; he glanced about him; he looked +as if he were on the verge of bursting into indignant or explanatory +speech every now and then--though, as a matter of fact, he restrained +whatever instinct he had in that direction. But Mallalieu never moved, +never changed his attitude. His expression of disdainful, contemptuous +watchfulness never left him--after the first moments and the formalities +were over, he kept his eyes on the witness-box and on the people who +entered it. Brereton, since his first meeting with Mallalieu, had often +said to himself that the Mayor of Highmarket had the slyest eyes of any +man he had even seen--but he was forced to admit now that, however sly +Mallalieu's eyes were, they could, on occasion, be extraordinarily +steady. + +The truth was that Mallalieu was playing a part. He had outlined it, +unconsciously, when he said to the superintendent that it would be time +enough for him to do something when he knew what could be brought +against him. And now all his attention was given to the two or three +witnesses whom the prosecution thought it necessary to call. He wanted +to know who they were. He curbed his impatience while the formal +evidence of arrest was given, but his ears pricked a little when he +heard one of the police witnesses speak of the warrant having been +issued on information received. "What information? Received from whom?" +He half-turned as a sharp official voice called the name of the first +important witness. + +"David Myler!" + +Mallalieu stared at David Myler as if he would tear whatever secret he +had out of him with a searching glance. Who was David Myler? No +Highmarket man--that was certain. Who was he, then?--what did he +know?--was he some detective who had been privately working up this +case? A cool, quiet, determined-looking young fellow, anyway. Confound +him! But--what had he to do with this? + +Those questions were speedily answered for Mallalieu. He kept his +immovable attitude, his immobile expression, while Myler told the story +of Stoner's visit to Darlington, and of the revelation which had +resulted. And nothing proved his extraordinary command over his temper +and his feelings better than the fact that as Myler narrated one damning +thing after another, he never showed the least concern or uneasiness. + +But deep within himself Mallalieu was feeling a lot. He knew now that he +had been mistaken in thinking that Stoner had kept his knowledge to +himself. He also knew what line the prosecution was taking. It was +seeking to show that Stoner was murdered by Cotherstone and himself, or +by one or other, separately or in collusion, in order that he might be +silenced. But he knew more than that. Long practice and much natural +inclination had taught Mallalieu the art of thinking ahead, and he +could foresee as well as any man of his acquaintance. He foresaw the +trend of events in this affair. This was only a preliminary. The +prosecution was charging him and Cotherstone with the murder of Stoner +today: it would be charging them with the murder of Kitely tomorrow. + +Myler's evidence caused a profound sensation in court--but there was +even more sensation and more excitement when Myler's father-in-law +followed him in the witness-box. It was literally in a breathless +silence that the old man told the story of the crime of thirty years +ago; it was a wonderfully dramatic moment when he declared that in spite +of the long time that had elapsed he recognized the Mallalieu and +Cotherstone of Highmarket as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had known +at Wilchester. + +Even then Mallalieu had not flinched. Cotherstone flushed, grew +restless, hung his head a little, looked as if he would like to explain. +But Mallalieu continued to stare fixedly across the court. He cared +nothing that the revelation had been made at last. Now that it had been +made, in full publicity, he did not care a brass farthing if every man +and woman in Highmarket knew that he was an ex-gaol-bird. That was far +away in the dead past--what he cared about was the present and the +future. And his sharp wits told him that if the evidence of Myler and of +old Pursey was all that the prosecution could bring against him, he was +safe. That there had been a secret, that Stoner had come into possession +of it, that Stoner was about to make profit of it, was no proof that he +and Cotherstone, or either of them, had murdered Stoner. No--if that +was all.... + +But in another moment Mallalieu knew that it was not all. Up to that +moment he had firmly believed that he had got away from Hobwick Quarry +unobserved. Here he was wrong. He had now to learn that a young man from +Norcaster had come over to Highmarket that Sunday afternoon to visit his +sweetheart; that this couple had gone up the moors; that they were on +the opposite side of Hobwick Quarry when he went down into it after +Stoner's fall; that they had seen him move about and finally go away; +what was more, they had seen Cotherstone descend into the quarry and +recover the stick; Cotherstone had passed near them as they stood hidden +in the bushes; they had seen the stick in his hand. + +When Mallalieu heard all this and saw his stick produced and identified, +he ceased to take any further interest in that stage of the proceedings. +He knew the worst now, and he began to think of his plans and schemes. +And suddenly, all the evidence for that time being over, and the +magistrates and the officials being in the thick of some whispered +consultations about the adjournment, Mallalieu spoke for the first time. + +"I shall have my answer about all this business at the right time and +place," he said loudly. "My partner can do what he likes. All I have to +say now is that I ask for bail. You can fix it at any amount you like. +You all know me." + +The magistrates and the officials looked across the well of the court in +astonishment, and the chairman, a mild old gentleman who was obviously +much distressed by the revelation, shook his head deprecatingly. + +"Impossible!" he remonstrated. "Quite impossible! We haven't the +power----" + +"You're wrong!" retorted Mallalieu, masterful and insistent as ever. +"You have the power! D'ye think I've been a justice of the peace for +twelve years without knowing what law is? You've the power to admit to +bail in all charges of felony, at your discretion. So now then!" + +The magistrates looked at their clerk, and the clerk smiled. + +"Mr. Mallalieu's theory is correct," he said quietly. "But no magistrate +is obliged to admit to bail in felonies and misdemeanours, and in +practice bail is never allowed in cases where--as in this case--the +charge is one of murder. Such procedure is unheard of." + +"Make a precedent, then!" sneered Mallalieu. "Here!--you can have twenty +thousand pounds security, if you like." + +But this offer received no answer, and in five minutes more Mallalieu +heard the case adjourned for a week and himself and Cotherstone +committed to Norcaster Gaol in the meantime. Without a look at his +fellow-prisoner he turned out of the dock and was escorted back to the +private room in the Town Hall from which he had been brought. + +"Hang 'em for a lot of fools!" he burst out to the superintendent, who +had accompanied him. "Do they think I'm going to run away? Likely +thing--on a trumped-up charge like this. Here!--how soon shall you be +wanting to start for yon place?" + +The superintendent, who had cherished considerable respect for Mallalieu +in the past, and was much upset and very downcast about this sudden +change in the Mayor's fortunes, looked at his prisoner and shook his +head. + +"There's a couple of cars ordered to be ready in half an hour, Mr. +Mallalieu," he answered. "One for you, and one for Mr. Cotherstone." + +"With armed escorts in both, I suppose!" sneered Mallalieu. "Well, look +here--you've time to get me a cup of tea. Slip out and get one o' your +men to nip across to the Arms for it--good, strong tea, and a slice or +two of bread-and-butter. I can do with it." + +He flung half a crown on the table, and the superintendent, suspecting +nothing, and willing to oblige a man who had always been friendly and +genial towards himself, went out of the room, with no further +precautions than the turning of the key in the lock when he had once got +outside the door. It never entered his head that the prisoner would try +to escape, never crossed his mind that Mallalieu had any chance of +escaping. He went away along the corridor to find one of his men who +could be dispatched to the Highmarket Arms. + +But the instant Mallalieu was left alone he started into action. He had +not been Mayor of Highmarket for two years, a member of its Corporation +for nearly twenty, without knowing all the ins-and-outs of that old Town +Hall. And as soon as the superintendent had left him he drew from his +pocket a key, went across the room to a door which stood in a corner +behind a curtain, unlocked it, opened it gently, looked out, passed into +a lobby without, relocked the door behind him, and in another instant +was stealing quietly down a private staircase that led to an entrance +into the quaint old garden at the back of the premises. One further +moment of suspense and of looking round, and he was safely in that +garden and behind the thick shrubs which ran along one of its high +walls. Yet another and he was out of the garden, and in an old-fashioned +orchard which ran, thick with trees, to the very edge of the coppices at +the foot of the Shawl. Once in that orchard, screened by its +close-branched, low-spreading boughs, leafless though they were at that +period of the year, he paused to get his breath, and to chuckle over the +success of his scheme. What a mercy, what blessing, he thought, that +they had not searched him on his arrest!--that they had delayed that +interesting ceremony until his committal! The omission, he knew, had +been winked at--purposely--and it had left him with his precious +waistcoat, his revolver, and the key that had opened his prison door. + +Dusk had fallen over Highmarket before the hearing came to an end, and +it was now dark. Mallalieu knew that he had little time to lose--but he +also knew that his pursuers would have hard work to catch him. He had +laid his plans while the last two witnesses were in the box: his +detailed knowledge of the town and its immediate neighbourhood stood in +good stead. Moreover, the geographical situation of the Town Hall was a +great help. He had nothing to do but steal out of the orchard into the +coppices, make his way cautiously through them into the deeper wood +which fringed the Shawl, pass through that to the ridge at the top, and +gain the moors. Once on those moors he would strike by devious way for +Norcaster--he knew a safe place in the Lower Town there where he could +be hidden for a month, three months, six months, without fear of +discovery, and from whence he could get away by ship. + +All was quiet as he passed through a gap in the orchard hedge and stole +into the coppices. He kept stealthily but swiftly along through the pine +and fir until he came to the wood which covered the higher part of the +Shawl. The trees were much thicker there, the brakes and bushes were +thicker, and the darkness was greater. He was obliged to move at a +slower pace--and suddenly he heard men's voices on the lower slopes +beneath him. He paused catching his breath and listening. And then, just +as suddenly as he had heard the voices, he felt a hand, firm, steady, +sinewy, fasten on his wrist and stay there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY + + +The tightening of that sinewy grip on Mallalieu's wrist so startled him +that it was only by a great effort that he restrained himself from +crying out and from breaking into one of his fits of trembling. This +sudden arrest was all the more disturbing to his mental composure +because, for the moment, he could not see to whom the hand belonged. But +as he twisted round he became aware of a tall, thin shape at his elbow; +the next instant a whisper stole to his ear. + +"H'sh! Be careful!--there's men down there on the path!--they're very +like after you," said the voice. "Wait here a minute!" + +"Who are you?" demanded Mallalieu hoarsely. He was endeavouring to free +his wrist, but the steel-like fingers clung. "Let go my hand!" he said. +"D'ye hear?--let it go!" + +"Wait!" said the voice. "It's for your own good. It's me--Miss Pett. I +saw you--against that patch of light between the trees there--I knew +your big figure. You've got away, of course. Well, you'll not get much +further if you don't trust to me. Wait till we hear which way them +fellows go." + +Mallalieu resigned himself. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the +gloom of the wood, he made out that Miss Pett was standing just within +an opening in the trees; presently, as the voices beneath them became +fainter, she drew him into it. + +"This way!" she whispered. "Come close behind me--the house is close +by." + +"No!" protested Mallalieu angrily. "None of your houses! Here, I want to +be on the moors. What do you want--to keep your tongue still?" + +Miss Pett paused and edged her thin figure close to Mallalieu's bulky +one. + +"It'll not be a question of my tongue if you once go out o' this wood," +she said. "They'll search those moors first thing. Don't be a +fool!--it'll be known all over the town by now! Come with me and I'll +put you where all the police in the county can't find you. But of +course, do as you like--only, I'm warning you. You haven't a cat's +chance if you set foot on that moor. Lord bless you, man!--don't they +know that there's only two places you could make for--Norcaster and +Hexendale? Is there any way to either of 'em except across the moors? +Come on, now--be sensible." + +"Go on, then!" growled Mallalieu. Wholly suspicious by nature, he was +wondering why this she-dragon, as he had so often called her, should be +at all desirous of sheltering him. Already he suspected her of some +design, some trick--and in the darkness he clapped his hand on the +hip-pocket in which he had placed his revolver. That was safe +enough--and again he thanked his stars that the police had not searched +him. But however well he might be armed, he was for the time being in +Miss Pett's power--he knew very well that if he tried to slip away Miss +Pett had only to utter one shrill cry to attract attention. And so, much +as he desired the freedom of the moors, he allowed himself to be taken +captive by this gaoler who promised eventual liberty. + +Miss Pett waited in the thickness of the trees until the voices at the +foot of the Shawl became faint and far off; she herself knew well enough +that they were not the voices of men who were searching for Mallalieu, +but of country folk who had been into the town and were now returning +home by the lower path in the wood. But it suited her purposes to create +a spirit of impending danger in the Mayor, and so she kept him there, +her hand still on his arm, until the last sound died away. And while she +thus held him, Mallalieu, who had often observed Miss Pett in her +peregrinations through the Market Place, and had been accustomed to +speaking of her as a thread-paper, or as Mother Skin-and-Bones, because +of her phenomenal thinness, wondered how it was that a woman of such +extraordinary attenuation should possess such powerful fingers--her grip +on his wrist was like that of a vice. And somehow, in a fashion for +which he could not account, especially in the disturbed and anxious +state of his mind, he became aware that here in this strange woman was +some mental force which was superior to and was already dominating his +own, and for a moment he was tempted to shake the steel-like fingers off +and make a dash for the moorlands. + +But Miss Pett presently moved forward, holding Mallalieu as a nurse +might hold an unwilling child. She led him cautiously through the trees, +which there became thicker, she piloted him carefully down a path, and +into a shrubbery--she drew him through a gap in a hedgerow, and +Mallalieu knew then that they were in the kitchen garden at the rear of +old Kitely's cottage. Quietly and stealthily, moving herself as if her +feet were shod with velvet, Miss Pett made her way with her captive to +the door; Mallalieu heard the rasping of a key in a lock, the lifting of +a latch; then he was gently but firmly pushed into darkness. Behind him +the door closed--a bolt was shot home. + +"This way!" whispered Miss Pett. She drew him after her along what he +felt to be a passage, twisted him to the left through another doorway, +and then, for the first time since she had assumed charge of him, +released his wrist. "Wait!" she said. "We'll have a light presently." + +Mallalieu stood where she had placed him, impatient of everything, but +feeling powerless to move. He heard Miss Pett move about; he heard the +drawing to and barring of shutters, the swish of curtains being pulled +together; then the spurt and glare of a match--in its feeble flame he +saw Miss Pett's queer countenance, framed in an odd-shaped, +old-fashioned poke bonnet, bending towards a lamp. In the gradually +increasing light of that lamp Mallalieu looked anxiously around him. + +He was in a little room which was half-parlour, half bed-room. There was +a camp bed in one corner; there was an ancient knee-hole writing desk +under the window across which the big curtains had been drawn; there +were a couple of easy-chairs on either side of the hearth. There were +books and papers on a shelf; there were pictures and cartoons on the +walls. Mallalieu took a hasty glance at those unusual ornaments and +hated them: they were pictures of famous judges in their robes, and of +great criminal counsel in their wigs--and over the chimney-piece, framed +in black wood, was an old broad-sheet, printed in big, queer-shaped +letters: Mallalieu's hasty glance caught the staring headline--_Dying +Speech and Confession of the Famous Murderer_.... + +"This was Kitely's snug," remarked Miss Pett calmly, as she turned up +the lamp to the full. "He slept in that bed, studied at that desk, +and smoked his pipe in that chair. He called it his +sanctum-something-or-other--I don't know no Latin. But it's a nice room, +and it's comfortable, or will be when I put a fire in that grate, and +it'll do very well for you until you can move. Sit you down--would you +like a drop of good whisky, now?" + +Mallalieu sat down and stared his hardest at Miss Pett. He felt himself +becoming more confused and puzzled than ever. + +"Look here, missis!" he said suddenly. "Let's get a clear idea about +things. You say you can keep me safe here until I can get away. How do +you know I shall be safe?" + +"Because I'll take good care that you are," answered Miss Pett. "There's +nobody can get into this house without my permission, and before I let +anybody in, no matter with what warrants or such-like they carried, I'd +see that you were out of it before they crossed the threshold. I'm no +fool, I can tell you, Mr. Mallalieu, and if you trust me----" + +"I've no choice, so it seems," remarked Mallalieu, grimly. "You've got +me! And now, how much are you reckoning to get out of me--what?" + +"No performance, no pay!" said Miss Pett. "Wait till I've managed things +for you. I know how to get you safely away from here--leave it to me, +and I'll have you put down in any part of Norcaster you like, without +anybody knowing. And if you like to make me a little present then----" + +"You're certain?" demanded Mallalieu, still suspicious, but glad to +welcome even a ray of hope. "You know what you're talking about?" + +"I never talk idle stuff," retorted Miss Pett. "I'm telling you what I +know." + +"All right, then," said Mallalieu. "You do your part, and I'll do mine +when it comes to it--you'll not find me ungenerous, missis. And I will +have that drop of whisky you talked about." + +Miss Pett went away, leaving Mallalieu to stare about him and to +meditate on this curious change in his fortunes. Well, after all, it was +better to be safe and snug under this queer old woman's charge than to +be locked up in Norcaster Gaol, or to be hunted about on the bleak moors +and possibly to go without food or drink. And his thoughts began to +assume a more cheerful complexion when Miss Pett presently brought him a +stiff glass of undeniably good liquor, and proceeded to light a fire in +his prison: he even melted so much as to offer her some thanks. + +"I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, missis," he said, with an attempt at +graciousness. "I'll not forget you when it comes to settling up. But I +should feel a good deal easier in my mind if I knew two things. First of +all--you know, of course, I've got away from yon lot down yonder, else I +shouldn't ha' been where you found me. But--they'll raise the +hue-and-cry, missis! Now supposing they come here?" + +Miss Pett lifted her queer face from the hearth, where she had been +blowing the sticks into a blaze. + +"There's such a thing as chance," she observed. "To start with, how much +chance is there that they'd ever think of coming here? Next to none! +They'd never suspect me of harbouring you. There is a chance that when +they look through these woods--as they will--they'll ask if I've seen +aught of you--well, you can leave the answer to me." + +"They might want to search," suggested Mallalieu. + +"Not likely!" answered Miss Pett, with a shake of the poke bonnet. "But +even if they did, I'd take good care they didn't find you!" + +"Well--and what about getting me away?" asked Mallalieu. "How's that to +be done?" + +"I'll tell you that tomorrow," replied Miss Pett. "You make yourself +easy--I'll see you're all right. And now I'll go and cook you a nice +chop, for no doubt you'll do with something after all the stuff you had +to hear in the court." + +"You were there, then?" asked Mallalieu. "Lot o' stuff and nonsense! A +sensible woman like you----" + +"A sensible woman like me only believes what she can prove," answered +Miss Pett. + +She went away and shut the door, and Mallalieu, left to himself, took +another heartening pull at his glass and proceeded to re-inspect his +quarters. The fire was blazing up: the room was warm and comfortable; +certainly he was fortunate. But he assured himself that the window was +properly shuttered, barred, and fully covered by the thick curtain, and +he stood by it for a moment listening intently for any sound of movement +without. No sound came, not even the wail of a somewhat strong wind +which he knew to be sweeping through the pine trees, and he came to the +conclusion that the old stone walls were almost sound-proof and that if +he and Miss Pett conversed in ordinary tones no eavesdroppers outside +the cottage could hear them. And presently he caught a sound within the +cottage--the sound of the sizzling of chops on a gridiron, and with it +came the pleasant and grateful smell of cooking meat, and Mallalieu +decided that he was hungry. + +To a man fixed as Mallalieu was at that time the evening which followed +was by no means unpleasant. Miss Pett served him as nice a little supper +as his own housekeeper would have given him; later on she favoured him +with her company. They talked of anything but the events of the day, and +Mallalieu began to think that the queer-looking woman was a remarkably +shrewd and intelligent person. There was but one drawback to his +captivity--Miss Pett would not let him smoke. Cigars, she said, might be +smelt outside the cottage, and nobody would credit her with the +consumption of such gentleman-like luxuries. + +"And if I were you," she said, at the end of an interesting conversation +which had covered a variety of subjects, "I should try to get a good +night's rest. I'll mix you a good glass of toddy such as the late Kitely +always let me mix for his nightcap, and then I'll leave you. The bed's +aired, there's plenty of clothing on it, all's safe, and you can sleep +as if you were a baby in a cradle, for I always sleep like a dog, with +one ear and an eye open, and I'll take good care naught disturbs you, so +there!" + +Mallalieu drank the steaming glass of spirits and water which Miss Pett +presently brought him, and took her advice about going to bed. Without +ever knowing anything about it he fell into such a slumber as he had +never known in his life before. It was indeed so sound that he never +heard Miss Pett steal into his room, was not aware that she carefully +withdrew the precious waistcoat which, through a convenient hole in the +wall, she had watched him deposit under the rest of his garments on the +chair at his side, never knew that she carried it away into the +living-room on the other side of the cottage. For the strong flavour of +the lemon and the sweetness of the sugar which Miss Pett had put into +the hot toddy had utterly obscured the very slight taste of something +else which she had put in--something which was much stronger than the +generous dose of whisky, and was calculated to plunge Mallalieu into a +stupor from which not even an earthquake could have roused him. + +Miss Pett examined the waistcoat at her leisure. Her thin fingers went +through every pocket and every paper, through the bank-notes, the scrip, +the shares, the securities. She put everything back in its place, after +a careful reckoning and estimation of the whole. And Mallalieu was as +deeply plunged in his slumbers as ever when she went back into his room +with her shaded light and her catlike tread, and she replaced the +garment exactly where she found it, and went out and shut the door as +lightly as a butterfly folds its wings. + +It was then eleven o'clock at night, and Miss Pett, instead of retiring +to her bed, sat down by the living-room fire and waited. The poke bonnet +had been replaced by the gay turban, and under its gold and scarlet her +strange, skeleton-like face gleamed like old ivory as she sat there with +the firelight playing on it. And so immobile was she, sitting with her +sinewy skin-and-bone arms lying folded over her silk apron, that she +might have been taken for an image rather than for a living woman. + +But as the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece neared midnight, Miss +Pett suddenly moved. Her sharp ears caught a scratching sound on the +shutter outside the window. And noiselessly she moved down the passage, +and noiselessly unbarred the front door, and just as noiselessly closed +it again behind the man who slipped in--Christopher, her nephew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +STRICT BUSINESS LINES + + +Mr. Christopher Pett, warned by the uplifted finger of his aunt, +tip-toed into the living-room, and setting down his small travelling bag +on the table proceeded to divest himself of a thick overcoat, a warm +muffler, woollen gloves, and a silk hat. And Miss Pett, having closed +the outer and inner doors, came in and glanced inquiringly at him. + +"Which way did you come, this time?" she inquired. + +"High Gill," replied Christopher. "Got an afternoon express that stopped +there. Jolly cold it was crossing those moors of yours, too, I can tell +you!--I can do with a drop of something. I say--is there anything afoot +about here?--anything going on?" + +"Why?" asked Miss Pett, producing the whisky and the lemons. "And how do +you mean?" + +Christopher pulled an easy chair to the fire and stretched his hands to +the blaze. + +"Up there, on the moor," he answered. "There's fellows going about with +lights--lanterns, I should say. I didn't see 'em close at hand--there +were several of 'em crossing about--like fire-flies--as if the chaps +who carried 'em were searching for something." + +Miss Pett set the decanter and the materials for toddy on the table at +her nephew's side, and took a covered plate from the cupboard in the +corner. + +"Them's potted meat sandwiches," she said. "Very toothsome you'll find +'em--I didn't prepare much, for I knew you'd get your dinner on the +train. Yes, well, there is something afoot--they are searching. Not for +something, though, but for somebody. Mallalieu!" + +Christopher, his mouth full of sandwiches, and his hand laid on the +decanter, lifted a face full of new and alert interest. + +"The Mayor!" he exclaimed. + +"Quite so," assented Miss Pett. "Anthony Mallalieu, Esquire, Mayor of +Highmarket. They want him, does the police--bad!" + +Christopher still remained transfixed. The decanter was already tilted +in his hand, but he tilted it no further; the sandwich hung bulging in +his cheek. + +"Good Lord!" he said. "Not for----" he paused, nodding his head towards +the front of the cottage where the wood lay "--not for--that? They ain't +suspicioning _him_?" + +"No, but for killing his clerk, who'd found something out," replied Miss +Pett. "The clerk was killed Sunday; they took up Mallalieu and his +partner today, and tried 'em, and Mallalieu slipped the police somehow, +after the case was adjourned, and escaped. And--he's here!" + +Christopher had begun to pour the whisky into his glass. In his +astonishment he rattled the decanter against the rim. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Here? In this cottage?" + +"In there," answered Miss Pett. "In Kitely's room. Safe and sound. +There's no danger. He'll not wake. I mixed him a glass of toddy before +he went to bed, and neither earthquakes nor fire-alarms 'ull wake him +before nine o'clock tomorrow morning." + +"Whew!" said Christopher. "Um! it's a dangerous game--it's harbouring, +you know. However, they'd suspect that he'd come here. Whatever made him +come here?" + +"I made him come here," replied Miss Pett. "I caught him in the wood +outside there, as I was coming back from the Town Hall, so I made him +come in. It'll pay very well, Chris." + +Mr. Pett, who was lifting his glass to his lips, arrested it in mid-air, +winked over its rim at his aunt, and smiled knowingly. + +"You're a good hand at business, I must say, old lady!" he remarked +admiringly. "Of course, of course, if you're doing a bit of business out +of it----" + +"That'll come tomorrow," said Miss Pett, seating herself at the table +and glancing at her nephew's bag. "We'll do our own business tonight. +Well, how have you come on?" + +Christopher munched and drank for a minute or two. Then he nodded, with +much satisfaction in his manner. + +"Very well," he answered. "I got what I consider a very good price. Sold +the whole lot to another Brixton property-owner, got paid, and have +brought you the money. All of it--ain't even taken my costs, my +expenses, and my commission out of it--yet." + +"How much did you sell for?" asked Miss Pett. + +Christopher pulled his bag to his side and took a bundle of red-taped +documents from it. + +"You ought to think yourself jolly lucky," he said, wagging his head +admonitorily at his aunt. "I see a lot of the state of the property +market, and I can assure you I did uncommonly well for you. I shouldn't +have got what I did if it had been sold by auction. But the man I sold +to was a bit keen, 'cause he's already got adjacent property, and he +gave rather more than he would ha' done in other circumstances. I got," +he continued, consulting the topmost of his papers, "I got, in round +figures, three thousand four hundred--to be exact, three thousand four +hundred, seventeen, five, eleven." + +"Where's the money?" demanded Miss Pett. + +"It's here," answered Christopher, tapping his breast. "In my +pocket-book. Notes, big and little--so that we can settle up." + +Miss Pett stretched out her hand. + +"Hand it over!" she said. + +Christopher gave his aunt a sidelong glance. + +"Hadn't we better reckon up my costs and commission first?" he +suggested. "Here's an account of the costs--the commission, of course, +was to be settled between you and me." + +"We'll settle all that when you've handed the money over," said Miss +Pett. "I haven't counted it yet." + +There was a certain unwillingness in Christopher Pett's manner as he +slowly produced a stout pocket-book and took from it a thick wad of +bank-notes. He pushed this across to his aunt, with a tiny heap of +silver and copper. + +"Well, I'm trusting to you, you know," he said a little doubtfully. +"Don't forget that I've done well for you." + +Miss Pett made no answer. She had taken a pair of spectacles from her +pocket, and with these perched on the bridge of her sharp nose she +proceeded to count the notes, while her nephew alternately sipped at his +toddy and stroked his chin, meanwhile eyeing his relative's proceedings +with somewhat rueful looks. + +"Three thousand, four hundred and seventeen pounds, five shillings and +elevenpence," and Miss Pett calmly. "And them costs, now, and the +expenses--how much do they come to, Chris?" + +"Sixty-one, two, nine," answered Christopher, passing one of his papers +across the table with alacrity. "You'll find it quite right--I did it as +cheap as possible for you." + +Miss Pett set her elbow on her heap of bank-notes while she examined the +statement. That done, she looked over the tops of her spectacles at the +expectant Christopher. + +"Well, about that commission," she said. "Of course, you know, Chris, +you oughtn't to charge me what you'd charge other folks. You ought to do +it very reasonable indeed for me. What were you thinking of, now?" + +"I got the top price," remarked Christopher reflectively. "I got you +quite four hundred more than the market price. How would--how would five +per cent. be, now?" + +Miss Pett threw up the gay turban with a toss of surprise. + +"Five per cent!" she ejaculated. "Christopher Pett!--whatever are you +talking about? Why, that 'ud be a hundred and seventy pound! Eh, +dear!--nothing of the sort--it 'ud be as good as robbery. I'm astonished +at you." + +"Well, how much, then?" growled Christopher. "Hang it all!--don't be +close with your own nephew." + +"I'll give you a hundred pounds--to include the costs," said Miss Pett +firmly. "Not a penny more--but," she added, bending forward and nodding +her head towards that half of the cottage wherein Mallalieu slumbered so +heavily, "I'll give you something to boot--an opportunity of feathering +your nest out of--him!" + +Christopher's face, which had clouded heavily, lightened somewhat at +this, and he too glanced at the door. + +"Will it be worth it?" he asked doubtfully. "What is there to be got out +of him if he's flying from justice? He'll carry naught--and he can't get +at anything that he has, either." + +Miss Pett gave vent to a queer, dry chuckle; the sound of her laughter +always made her nephew think of the clicking of machinery that badly +wanted oiling. + +"He's heaps o' money on him!" she whispered. "After he dropped off +tonight I went through his pockets. We've only got to keep a tight hold +on him to get as much as ever we like! So--put your hundred in your +pocket, and we'll see about the other affair tomorrow." + +"Oh, well, of course, in that case!" said Christopher. He picked up the +banknote which his aunt pushed towards him and slipped it into his +purse. "We shall have to play on his fears a bit, you know," he +remarked. + +"I think we shall be equal to it--between us," answered Miss Pett drily. +"Them big, flabby men's easy frightened." + +Mallalieu was certainly frightened when he woke suddenly next morning to +find Miss Pett standing at the side of his bed. He glared at her for one +instant of wild alarm and started up on his pillows. Miss Pett laid one +of her claw-like hands on his shoulder. + +"Don't alarm yourself, mister," she said. "All's safe, and here's +something that'll do you good--a cup of nice hot coffee--real Mocha, to +which the late Kitely was partial--with a drop o'rum in it. Drink +it--and you shall have your breakfast in half an hour. It's past nine +o'clock." + +"I must have slept very sound," said Mallalieu, following his gaoler's +orders. "You say all's safe? Naught heard or seen?" + +"All's safe, all's serene," replied Miss Pett. "And you're in luck's +way, for there's my nephew Christopher arrived from London, to help me +about settling my affairs and removing my effects from this place, and +he's a lawyer and'll give you good advice." + +Mallalieu growled a little. He had seen Mr. Christopher Pett and he was +inclined to be doubtful of him. + +"Is he to be trusted?" he muttered. "I expect he'll have to be squared, +too!" + +"Not beyond reason," replied Miss Pett. "We're not unreasonable people, +our family. He's a very sensible young man, is Christopher. The late +Kitely had a very strong opinion of his abilities." + +Mallalieu had no doubt of Mr. Christopher Pett's abilities in a certain +direction after he had exchanged a few questions and answers with that +young gentleman. For Christopher was shrewd, sharp, practical and +judicial. + +"It's a very dangerous and--you'll excuse plain speaking under the +circumstances, sir--very foolish thing that you've done, Mr. Mallalieu," +he said, as he and the prisoner sat closeted together in the still +shuttered and curtained parlour-bedroom. "The mere fact of your making +your escape, sir, is what some would consider a proof of guilt--it is +indeed! And of course my aunt--and myself, in my small way--we're +running great risks, Mr. Mallalieu--we really are--great risks!" + +"Now then, you'll not lose by me," said Mallalieu. "I'm not a man of +straw." + +"All very well, sir," replied Christopher, "but even if you were a +millionaire and recompensed us on what I may term a princely scale--not +that we shall expect it, Mr. Mallalieu--the risks would be +extraordinary--ahem! I mean will be extraordinary. For you see, Mr. +Mallalieu, there's two or three things that's dead certain. To start +with, sir, it's absolutely impossible for you to get away from here by +yourself--you can't do it!" + +"Why not?" growled Mallalieu. "I can get away at nightfall." + +"No, sir," affirmed Christopher stoutly. "I saw the condition of the +moors last night. Patrolled, Mr. Mallalieu, patrolled! By men with +lights. That patrolling, sir, will go on for many a night. Make up your +mind, Mr. Mallalieu, that if you set foot out of this house, you'll see +the inside of Norcaster Gaol before two hours is over!" + +"What do you advise, then?" demanded Mallalieu. "Here!--I'm fairly in +for it, so I'll tell you what my notion was. If I can once get to a +certain part of Norcaster, I'm safe. I can get away to the Continent +from there." + +"Then, sir," replied Christopher, "the thing is to devise a plan by +which you can be conveyed to Norcaster without suspicion. That'll have +to be arranged between me and my aunt--hence our risks on your behalf." + +"Your aunt said she'd a plan," remarked Mallalieu. + +"Not quite matured, sir," said Christopher. "It needs a little +reflection and trimming, as it were. Now what I advise, Mr. Mallalieu, +is this--you keep snug here, with my aunt as sentinel--she assures me +that even if the police--don't be frightened, sir!--did come here, she +could hide you quite safely before ever she opened the door to them. As +for me, I'll go, casual-like, into the town, and do a bit of quiet +looking and listening. I shall be able to find out how the land lies, +sir--and when I return I'll report to you, and the three of us will put +our heads together." + +Leaving the captive in charge of Miss Pett, Christopher, having brushed +his silk hat and his overcoat and fitted on a pair of black kid gloves, +strolled solemnly into Highmarket. He was known to a few people there, +and he took good care to let those of his acquaintance who met him hear +that he had come down to arrange his aunt's affairs, and to help in the +removal of the household goods bequeathed to her by the deceased Kitely. +In proof of this he called in at the furniture remover's, to get an +estimate of the cost of removal to Norcaster Docks--thence, said +Christopher, the furniture could be taken by sea to London, where Miss +Pett intended to reside in future. At the furniture remover's, and in +such other shops as he visited, and in the bar-parlour of the Highmarket +Arms, where he stayed an hour or so, gossiping with the loungers, and +sipping a glass or two of dry sherry, Christopher picked up a great deal +of information. And at noon he returned to the cottage, having learned +that the police and everybody in Highmarket firmly believed that +Mallalieu had got clear and clean away the night before, and was already +far beyond pursuit. The police theory was that there had been collusion, +and that immediately on his escape he had been whirled off by some +person to whose identity there was as yet no clue. + +But Christopher Pett told a very different story to Mallalieu. The +moors, he said, were being patrolled night and day: it was believed the +fugitive was in hiding in one of the old quarries. Every road and +entrance to Norcaster, and to all the adjacent towns and stations, was +watched and guarded. There was no hope for Mallalieu but in the kindness +and contrivance of the aunt and the nephew, and Mallalieu recognized the +inevitable and was obliged to yield himself to their tender mercies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +NO FURTHER EVIDENCE + + +While Mallalieu lay captive in the stronghold of Miss Pett, Cotherstone +was experiencing a quite different sort of incarceration in the +detention cells of Norcaster Gaol. Had he known where his partner was, +and under what circumstances Mallalieu had obtained deliverance from +official bolts and bars, Cotherstone would probably have laughed in his +sleeve and sneered at him for a fool. He had been calling Mallalieu a +fool, indeed, ever since the previous evening, when the police, +conducting him to Norcaster, had told him of the Mayor's escape from the +Town Hall. Nobody but an absolute fool, a consummate idiot, thought +Cotherstone, would have done a thing like that. The man who flies is the +man who has reason to fly--that was Cotherstone's opinion, and in his +belief ninety-nine out of every hundred persons in Highmarket would +share it. Mallalieu would now be set down as guilty--they would say he +dared not face things, that he knew he was doomed, that his escape was +the desperate act of a conscious criminal. Ass!--said Cotherstone, not +without a certain amount of malicious delight: they should none of them +have reason to say such things of him. He would make no attempt to +fly--no, not if they left the gate of Norcaster Gaol wide open to him! +It should be his particular care to have himself legally cleared--his +acquittal should be as public as the proceedings which had just taken +place. He went out of the dock with that resolve strong on him; he +carried it away to his cell at Norcaster; he woke in the morning with +it, stronger than ever. Cotherstone, instead of turning tail, was going +to fight--for his own hand. + +As a prisoner merely under detention, Cotherstone had privileges of +which he took good care to avail himself. Four people he desired to see, +and must see at once, on that first day in gaol--and he lost no time in +making known his desires. One--and the most important--person was a +certain solicitor in Norcaster who enjoyed a great reputation as a sharp +man of affairs. Another--scarcely less important--was a barrister who +resided in Norcaster, and had had it said of him for a whole generation +that he had restored more criminals to society than any man of his +profession then living. And the other two were his own daughter and +Windle Bent. Them he must see--but the men of law first. + +When the solicitor and the barrister came, Cotherstone talked to them as +he had never talked to anybody in his life. He very soon let them see +that he had two definite objects in sending for them: the first was to +tell them in plain language that money was of no consideration in the +matter of his defence; the second, that they had come there to hear him +lay down the law as to what they were to do. Talk he did, and they +listened--and Cotherstone had the satisfaction of seeing that they went +away duly impressed with all that he had said to them. He went back to +his cell from the room in which this interview had taken place +congratulating himself on his ability. + +"I shall be out of this, and all'll be clear, a week today!" he assured +himself. "We'll see where that fool of a Mallalieu is by then! For he'll +not get far, nor go hidden for thirty years, this time." + +He waited with some anxiety to see his daughter, not because he must see +her within the walls of a prison, but because he knew that by that time +she would have learned the secrets of that past which he had kept so +carefully hidden from her. Only child of his though she was, he felt +that Lettie was not altogether of his sort; he had often realized that +she was on a different mental plane from his own, and was also, in some +respects, a little of a mystery to him. How would she take all +this?--what would she say?--what effect would it have on her?--he +pondered these questions uneasily while he waited for her visit. + +But if Cotherstone had only known it, he need have suffered no anxiety +about Lettie. It had fallen to Bent to tell her the sad news the +afternoon before, and Bent had begged Brereton to go up to the house +with him. Bent was upset; Brereton disliked the task, though he +willingly shared in it. They need have had no anxiety, either. For +Lettie listened calmly and patiently until the whole story had been +told, showing neither alarm, nor indignation, nor excitement; her +self-composure astonished even Bent, who thought, having been engaged +to her for twelve months, that he knew her pretty well. + +"I understand exactly," said Lettie, when, between them, they had told +her everything, laying particular stress on her father's version of +things. "It is all very annoying, of course, but then it is quite +simple, isn't it? Of course, Mr. Mallalieu has been the guilty person +all through, and poor father has been dragged into it. But then--all +that you have told me has only to be put before the--who is +it?--magistrates?--judges?--and then, of course, father will be entirely +cleared, and Mr. Mallalieu will be hanged. Windle--of course we shall +have to put off the wedding?" + +"Oh, of course!" agreed Bent. "We can't have any weddings until all this +business is cleared up." + +"That'll be so much better," said Lettie. "It really was becoming an +awful rush." + +Brereton glanced at Bent when they left the house. + +"I congratulate you on having a fiancée of a well-balanced mind, old +chap!" he said. "That was--a relief!" + +"Oh, Lettie's a girl of singularly calm and equable temperament," +answered Bent. "She's not easily upset, and she's quick at sizing things +up. And I say, Brereton, I've got to do all I can for Cotherstone, you +know. What about his defence?" + +"I should imagine that Cotherstone is already arranging his defence +himself," said Brereton. "He struck me during that talk this morning at +Tallington's as being very well able to take care of himself, Bent, and +I think you'll find when you visit him that he's already fixed things. +You won't perhaps see why, and I won't explain just now, but this +foolish running away of Mallalieu, who, of course, is sure to be caught, +is very much in Cotherstone's favour. I shall be much surprised if you +don't find Cotherstone in very good spirits, and if there aren't +developments in this affair within a day or two which will impress the +whole neighbourhood." + +Bent, visiting the prisoner in company with Lettie next day, found +Brereton's prediction correct. Cotherstone, hearing from his daughter's +own lips what she herself thought of the matter, and being reassured +that all was well between Bent and her, became not merely confident but +cheerily boastful. He would be free, and he would be cleared by that day +next week--he was not sorry, he said, that at last all this had come +out, for now he would be able to get rid of an incubus that had weighted +him all his life. + +"You're very confident, you know," remarked Bent. + +"Not beyond reason," asserted Cotherstone doggedly. "You wait till +tomorrow!" + +"What is there tomorrow?" asked Bent. + +"The inquest on Stoner is tomorrow," replied Cotherstone. "You be +there--and see and hear what happens." + +All of Highmarket population that could cram itself into the Coroner's +court was there next day when the adjourned inquest on the clerk's death +was held. Neither Bent nor Brereton nor Tallington had any notion of +what line was going to be taken by Cotherstone and his advisers, but +Tallington and Brereton exchanged glances when Cotherstone, in charge +of two warders from Norcaster, was brought in, and when the Norcaster +solicitor and the Norcaster barrister whom he had retained, shortly +afterwards presented themselves. + +"I begin to foresee," whispered Tallington. "Clever!--devilish clever!" + +"Just so," agreed Brereton, with a sidelong nod at the crowded seats +close by. "And there's somebody who's interested because it's going to +be devilish clever--that fellow Pett!" + +Christopher Pett was there, silk hat, black kid gloves and all, not +afraid of being professionally curious. Curiosity was the order of the +day: everybody present--of any intelligent perception--wanted to know +what the presence of Cotherstone, one of the two men accused of the +murder of Stoner, signified. But it was some little time before any +curiosity was satisfied. The inquest being an adjourned one, most of the +available evidence had to be taken, and as a coroner has a wide field in +the calling of witnesses, there was more evidence produced before him +and his jury than before the magistrates. There was Myler, of course, +and old Pursey, and the sweethearting couple: there were other +witnesses, railway folks, medical experts, and townspeople who could +contribute some small quota of testimony. But all these were forgotten +when at last Cotherstone, having been duly warned by the coroner that he +need not give any evidence at all, determinedly entered the +witness-box--to swear on oath that he was witness to his partner's +crime. + +Nothing could shake Cotherstone's evidence. He told a plain, +straightforward story from first to last. He had no knowledge whatever +of Stoner's having found out the secret of the Wilchester affair. He +knew nothing of Stoner's having gone over to Darlington. On the Sunday +he himself had gone up the moors for a quiet stroll. At the spinney +overhanging Hobwick Quarry he had seen Mallalieu and Stoner, and had at +once noticed that something in the shape of a quarrel was afoot. He saw +Mallalieu strike heavily at Stoner with his oak stick--saw Mallalieu, in +a sudden passion, kick the stick over the edge of the quarry, watched +him go down into the quarry and eventually leave it. He told how he +himself had gone after the stick, recovered it, taken it home, and had +eventually told the police where it was. He had never spoken to +Mallalieu on that Sunday--never seen him except under the circumstances +just detailed. + +The astute barrister who represented Cotherstone had not troubled the +Coroner and his jury much by asking questions of the various witnesses. +But he had quietly elicited from all the medical men the definite +opinion that death had been caused by the blow. And when Cotherstone's +evidence was over, the barrister insisted on recalling the two +sweethearts, and he got out of them, separately (each being excluded +from the court while the other gave evidence), that they had not seen +Mallalieu and Cotherstone together, that Mallalieu had left the quarry +some time before they saw Cotherstone, and that when Mallalieu passed +them he seemed to be agitated and was muttering to himself, whereas in +Cotherstone's manner they noticed nothing remarkable. + +Brereton, watching the faces of the jurymen, all tradesmen of the town, +serious and anxious, saw the effect which Cotherstone's evidence and the +further admissions of the two sweethearts was having. And neither he nor +Tallington--and certainly not Mr. Christopher Pett--was surprised when, +in the gathering dusk of the afternoon, the inquest came to an end with +a verdict of _Wilful Murder against Anthony Mallalieu_. + +"Your client is doing very well," observed Tallington to the Norcaster +solicitor as they foregathered in an ante-room. + +"My client will be still better when he comes before your bench again," +drily answered the other. "As you'll see!" + +"So that's the line you're taking?" said Tallington quietly. "A good +one--for him." + +"Every man for himself," remarked the Norcaster practitioner. "We're not +concerned with Mallalieu--we're concerned about ourselves. See you when +Cotherstone's brought before your worthies next Tuesday. And--a word in +your ear!--it won't be a long job, then." + +Long job or short job, the Highmarket Town Hall was packed to the doors +when Cotherstone, after his week's detention, was again placed in the +dock. This time, he stood there alone--and he looked around him with +confidence and with not a few signs that he felt a sense of coming +triumph. He listened with a quiet smile while the prosecuting +counsel--sent down specially from London to take charge--discussed with +the magistrates the matter of Mallalieu's escape, and he showed more +interest when he heard some police information as to how that escape had +been effected, and that up to then not a word had been heard and no +trace found of the fugitive. And after that, as the prosecuting counsel +bent over to exchange a whispered word with the magistrates' clerk, +Cotherstone deliberately turned, and seeking out the place where Bent +and Brereton sat together, favoured them with a peculiar glance. It was +the glance of a man who wished to say "I told you!--now you'll see +whether I was right!" + +"We're going to hear something--now!" whispered Brereton. + +The prosecuting counsel straightened himself and looked at the +magistrates. There was a momentary hesitation on his part; a look of +expectancy on the faces of the men on the bench; a deep silence in the +crowded court. The few words that came from the counsel were sharp and +decisive. + +"There will be no further evidence against the prisoner now in the dock, +your worships," he said. "The prosecution decides to withdraw the +charge." + +In the buzz of excitement which followed the voice of the old chairman +was scarcely audible as he glanced at Cotherstone. + +"You are discharged," he said abruptly. + +Cotherstone turned and left the dock. And for the second time he looked +at Bent and Brereton in the same peculiar, searching way. Then, amidst a +dead silence, he walked out of the court. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE VIRTUES OF SUSPICION + + +During that week Mallalieu was to learn by sad experience that it is a +very poor thing to acquire information at second hand. There he was, a +strictly-guarded--if a cosseted and pampered--prisoner, unable to put +his nose outside the cottage, and entirely dependent on Chris Pett for +any and all news of the world which lay so close at hand and was just +then so deeply and importantly interesting to him. Time hung very +heavily on his hands. There were books enough on the shelves of his +prison-parlour, but the late Kitely's taste had been of a purely +professional nature, and just then Mallalieu had no liking for murder +cases, criminal trials, and that sort of gruesomeness. He was constantly +asking for newspapers, and was skilfully put off--it was not within +Christopher's scheme of things to let Mallalieu get any accurate notion +of what was really going on. Miss Pett did not take in a newspaper; +Christopher invariably forgot to bring one in when he went to the town; +twice, being pressed by Mallalieu to remember, he brought back _The +Times_ of the day before--wherein, of course, Mallalieu failed to find +anything about himself. And it was about himself that he so wanted to +hear, about how things were, how people talked of him, what the police +said, what was happening generally, and his only source of information +was Chris. + +Mr. Pett took good care to represent everything in his own fashion. He +was assiduous in assuring Mallalieu that he was working in his interest +with might and main; jealous in proclaiming his own and his aunt's +intention to get him clear away to Norcaster. But he also never ceased +dilating on the serious nature of that enterprise, never wearied in +protesting how much risk he and Miss Pett were running; never refrained +from showing the captive how very black things were, and how much +blacker they would be if it were not for his present gaolers' goodness. +And when he returned to the cottage after the inquest on Stoner, his +face was unusually long and grave as he prepared to tell Mallalieu the +news. + +"Things are looking in a very bad way for you, Mr. Mallalieu," he +whispered, when he was closeted with Mallalieu in the little room which +the captive now hated fiercely and loathingly. "They look in a very bad +way indeed, sir! If you were in any other hands than ours, Mr. +Mallalieu, I don't know what you'd do. We're running the most fearful +risks on your behalf, we are indeed. Things is--dismal!" + +Mallalieu's temper, never too good, and all the worse for his enforced +confinement, blazed up. + +"Hang it! why don't you speak out plain?" he snarled. "Say what you +mean, and be done with it! What's up now, like? Things are no worse than +they were, I reckon." + +Christopher slowly drew off one of the black kid gloves, and blew into +it before laying it on the table. + +"No need to use strong language, Mr. Mallalieu," he said deprecatingly, +as he calmly proceeded to divest the other hand. "No need at all, +sir--between friends and gentlemen, Mr. Mallalieu!--things are a lot +worse. The coroner's jury has returned a verdict of wilful +murder--against you!" + +Mallalieu's big face turned of a queer grey hue--that word murder was +particularly distasteful to him. + +"Against me!" he muttered. "Why me particularly? There were two of us +charged. What about Cotherstone?" + +"I'm talking about the inquest" said Christopher. "They don't charge +anybody at inquests--they only inquire in general. The verdict's against +you, and you only. And--it was Cotherstone's evidence that did it!" + +"Cotherstone!" exclaimed Mallalieu. "Evidence against me! He's a liar +if----" + +"I'll tell you--all in due order," interrupted Chris. "Be calm, Mr. +Mallalieu, and listen--be judicial." + +But in spite of this exhortation, Mallalieu fumed and fretted, and when +Christopher had told him everything he looked as if it only required a +little resolution on his part to force himself to action. + +"I've a good mind to go straight out o' this place and straight down to +the police!" he growled. "I have indeed!--a great mind to go and give +myself up, and have things proved." + +"Do!" said Christopher, heartily. "I wish you would, sir. It 'ud save me +and my poor aunt a world of trouble. Only--it's my duty as a duly +qualified solicitor of the High Court to inform you that every step you +take from this haven of refuge will be a step towards the--gallows!" + +Mallalieu shrank back in his chair and stared at Mr. Pett's sharp +features. His own blanched once more. + +"You're sure of that?" he demanded hoarsely. + +"Certain!" replied Christopher. "No doubt of it, sir. I know!" + +"What's to be done, then?" asked the captive. + +Christopher assumed his best consultation-and-advice manner. + +"What," he said at last, "in my opinion, is the best thing is to wait +and see what happens when Cotherstone's brought up before the bench next +Tuesday. You're safe enough until then--so long as you do what we tell +you. Although all the country is being watched and searched, there's not +the ghost of a notion that you're in Highmarket. So remain as content as +you can, Mr. Mallalieu, and as soon as we learn what takes place next +Tuesday, we'll see about that plan of ours." + +"Let's be knowing what it is," grumbled Mallalieu. + +"Not quite matured, sir, yet," said Christopher as he rose and picked up +the silk hat and the kid gloves. "But when it is, you'll say--ah, you'll +say it's a most excellent one!" + +So Mallalieu had to wait until the next Tuesday came round. He did the +waiting impatiently and restlessly. He ate, he drank, he slept--slept as +he had never slept in his life--but he knew that he was losing flesh +from anxiety. It was with real concern that he glanced at Christopher +when that worthy returned from the adjourned case on the Tuesday +afternoon. His face fell when he saw that Christopher was gloomier than +ever. + +"Worse and worse, Mr. Mallalieu!" whispered Christopher mysteriously +when he had shut the door. "Everything's against you, sir. It's all +centring and fastening on you. What do you think happened? Cotherstone's +discharged!" + +"What!" exclaimed Mallalieu, jumping in his chair. "Discharged! Why, +then, they'd have discharged me!" + +Christopher laid his finger on the side of his nose. + +"Would they?" he said with a knowing wink. "Not much they wouldn't. +Cotherstone's let loose--to give evidence against you. When you're +caught!" + +Mallalieu's small eyes began to bulge, and a dull red to show on his +cheek. He looked as if he were bursting with words which he could not +get out, and Christopher Pett hastened to improve the occasion. + +"It's my opinion it's all a plant!" he said. "A conspiracy, if you like, +between Cotherstone and the authorities. Cotherstone, he's got the +smartest solicitor in Norcaster and the shrewdest advocate on this +circuit--you know 'em, Mr. Mallalieu--Stilby's the solicitor, and +Gradston the barrister--and it strikes me it's a put-up job. D'ye see +through it? First of all, Cotherstone gives evidence at that inquest: on +his evidence a verdict of murder is returned against--you! Now +Cotherstone's discharged by the magistrates--no further evidence being +offered against him. Why? So that he can give evidence before the +magistrates and at the Assizes against--you! That is--when you're +caught." + +"They've got to catch me yet," growled Mallalieu. "Now then--what about +this plan of yours? For I'm going to wait no longer. Either you tell me +what you're going to do for me, or I shall walk out o' that door as soon +as it's dark tonight and take my chances. D'ye hear that?" + +Christopher rose, opened the door, and softly called Miss Pett. And Miss +Pett came, took a seat, folded her thin arms, and looked attentively at +her learned nephew. + +"Yes, sir," said Christopher, resuming the conversation, "I hear +that--and we are now ready to explain plans and discuss terms. You will, +of course, recompense us, Mr. Mallalieu?" + +"I've said all along that you'd not lose by me," retorted Mallalieu. +"Aught in reason, I'll pay. But--this plan o' yours? I'm going to know +what it is before we come to any question of paying. So out with it!" + +"Well, it's an excellent plan," responded Christopher. "You say that +you'll be safe if you're set down in a certain part of Norcaster--near +the docks. Now that will suit our plans exactly. You're aware, of +course, Mr. Mallalieu, that my aunt here is about to remove her goods +and chattels--bequeathed by Mr. Kitely, deceased--from this house? Very +well--the removal's to take place tomorrow. I have already arranged with +Mr. Strawson, furniture remover, to send up a couple of vans tomorrow +morning, very early. Into those vans the furniture will be placed, and +the vans will convey it to Norcaster, whence they will be transshipped +bodily to London, by sea. Mr. Mallalieu--you'll leave here, sir, in one +of those vans!" + +Mallalieu listened, considered, began to see possibilities. + +"Aye!" he said, with a cunning glance. "Aye!--that's not a bad notion. I +can see my way in that respect. But--how am I going to get into a van +here, and got out of it there, without the vanmen knowing?" + +"I've thought it all out," answered Christopher. "You must keep snug in +this room until afternoon. We'll get the first van off in the +morning--say by noon. I'll so contrive that the second van won't be +ready to start until after it's dusk. When it is ready the men'll go +down to fetch their horses--I'll give 'em something to get themselves a +drink before they come back--that'll delay 'em a bit longer. And while +they're away, we'll slip you into the van--and I shall go with that van +to Norcaster. And when we get to the shed at Norcaster where the vans +are to be left, the two men will go away with their horses--and I shall +let you out. It's a good plan, Mr. Mallalieu." + +"It'll do, anyhow," agreed Mallalieu, who felt heartily relieved. "We'll +try it. But you must take all possible care until I'm in, and we're off. +The least bit of a slip----" + +Mr. Pett drily remarked that if any slips occurred they would not be of +his making--after which both he and his aunt coughed several times and +looked at the guest-prisoner in a fashion which seemed to invite speech +from him. + +"All right then," said Mallalieu. "Tomorrow, you say? All right--all +right!" + +Miss Pett coughed again and began to make pleats in her apron. + +"Of course, Christopher," she said, addressing her nephew as if there +were no other person present, "of course, Mr. Mallalieu has not yet +stated his terms." + +"Oh!--ah!--just so!" replied Christopher, starting as from a pensive +reverie. "Ah, to be sure. Now, what would you say, Mr. Mallalieu? How do +you feel disposed, sir?" + +Mallalieu looked fixedly from aunt to nephew, from nephew to aunt. Then +his face became hard and rigid. + +"Fifty pound apiece!" he said. "That's how I'm disposed. And you don't +get an offer like that every day, I know. Fifty pound apiece!" + +Miss Pett inclined her turbaned head towards her right shoulder and +sighed heavily: Mr. Pett folded his hands, looked at the ceiling, and +whistled. + +"We don't get an offer like that every day!" he murmured. "No!--I should +think we didn't! Fifty pound apiece!--a hundred pound altogether--for +saving a fellow-creature from the gallows! Oh, Mr. Mallalieu!" + +"Hang it!--how much money d'ye think I'm likely to carry on me?--me!--in +my unfortunate position!" snarled Mallalieu. "D'ye think----" + +"Christopher," observed Miss Pett, rising and making for the door, "I +should suggest that Mr. Mallalieu is left to consider matters. Perhaps +when he's reflected a bit----" + +She and her nephew went out, leaving Mallalieu fuming and grumbling. And +once in the living-room she turned to Christopher with a shake of the +head. + +"What did I tell you?" she said. "Mean as a miser! My plan's much the +best. We'll help ourselves--and then we can snap our fingers at him. +I'll give him an extra strong nightcap tonight, and then...." + +But before the close of that evening came Mallalieu's notions underwent +a change. He spent the afternoon in thinking. He knew that he was in the +power of two people who, if they could, would skin him. And the more he +thought, the more he began to be suspicious--and suddenly he wondered +why he slept so heavily at night, and all of a sudden he saw the reason. +Drugged!--that old she-devil was drugging his drink. That was it, of +course--but it had been for the last time: she shouldn't do it again. + +That night when Miss Pett brought the hot toddy, mixed according to the +recipe of the late Kitely, Mallalieu took it at his door, saying he was +arrayed for sleep, and would drink it when in bed. After which he +carefully poured it into a flower-pot that graced his room, and when he +presently lay down it was with eyes and ears open and his revolver ready +to his right hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +MR. WRAYTHWAITE OF WRAYE + + +Had the Mayor of Highmarket, lying there sullen and suspicious, only +known what was taking place close to him at that very moment, only known +what had been happening in his immediate vicinity during the afternoon +and evening, he might have taken some course of action which would have +prevented what was shortly to come. But he knew nothing--except that he +was angry, and full of doubts, and cursed everything and everybody that +had led to this evil turn in his fortunes, and was especially full of +vindictiveness towards the man and woman in the next room, who, as he +felt sure, were trying to take advantage of his present helplessness. +And meanwhile, not far away, things were going on--and they had been +going on all that day since noon. + +Brereton, going away from Highmarket Town Hall after the dramatic +discharge of Cotherstone, was suddenly accosted by a smart-looking young +man whom, at first glance, he knew to be in some way connected with the +law. + +"Mr. Gifford Brereton?" inquired this stranger. "I have a note for you, +sir." + +Brereton took the note and stepped aside into a quiet corner: the young +man followed and stood near. To Brereton's surprise he found himself +looking at a letter in the handwriting of a London solicitor who had two +or three times favoured him with a brief. He hastily glanced through its +contents:-- + + + "THE DUKE'S HEAD HOTEL" + _Norcaster._ + + "DEAR MR. BRERETON,-- + + "I have just arrived at this place on business which is closely + connected with that which you have in hand. I shall be much obliged + if you join me here at once, bringing with you the daughter of your + client Harborough--it is important that she should accompany you. + The bearer will have a car in readiness for you. + + Yours sincerely, + "H. C. CARFAX." + + +Brereton put the note in his pocket and turned to the messenger. + +"Mr. Carfax wishes me to return with you to Norcaster," he remarked. "He +mentions a car." + +"Here, Mr. Brereton--round the corner--a good one, that will run us +there in twenty minutes," replied the messenger. + +"There's a call to make first," said Brereton. He went round the corner +with his companion and recognized in the chauffeur who waited there a +man who had once or twice driven him from Norcaster of late. "Ah!" he +said, "I daresay you know where Mrs. Northrop lives in this town--up +near the foot of the Shawl? You do?--run us up there, then. Are you one +of Mr. Carfax's clerks?" he asked when he and the messenger had got +into the car. "Have you come down with him from London?" + +"No, sir--I am a clerk at Willerby & Hargreaves' in Norcaster," replied +the messenger. "Carfax and Spillington are our London agents. Mr. Carfax +and some other gentlemen came down from town first thing this morning, +and Mr. Carfax got me to bring you that note." + +"You don't know what he wants to see me about?" asked Brereton, who was +already curious to the point of eagerness. + +"Well, sir, I have a pretty good idea," answered the clerk, with a +smile, "but I think Mr. Carfax would rather tell you everything himself. +We shall soon be there, Mr. Brereton--if the young lady doesn't keep +us." + +Brereton ran into Northrop's house and carried Avice off with scant +ceremony. + +"This, of course, has something to do with your father's case," he said, +as he led her down to the car. "It may be--but no, we won't anticipate! +Only--I'm certain things are going to right themselves. Now then!" he +called to the driver as they joined the clerk. "Get along to Norcaster +as fast as you can." + +Within half an hour the car stopped at the old-fashioned gateway of the +Duke's Head in Norcaster market-place, and the clerk immediately led his +two companions into the hotel and upstairs to a private sitting-room, at +the door of which he knocked. A voice bade him enter; he threw the door +open and announced the visitors. + +"Miss Harborough--Mr. Brereton, Mr. Carfax," he said. + +Brereton glanced sharply at the men who stood in the room, evidently +expectant of his and his companion's arrival. Carfax, a short, +middle-aged man, quick and bustling in manner, he, of course, knew: the +others were strangers. Two of them Brereton instantly set down as +detectives; there were all the marks and signs of the craft upon them. +They stood in a window, whispering together, and at them Brereton gave +but a glance. But at the fourth man, who stood on the hearthrug, he +looked long and hard. And his thoughts immediately turned to the night +on which he and Avice had visited the old woman who lived in the lonely +house on the moors and to what she had said about a tall man who had met +Harborough in her presence--a tall, bearded man. For the man who stood +there before him, looking at Avice with an interested, somewhat wistful +smile, was a tall, bearded man--a man past middle age, who looked as if +he had seen a good deal of the far-off places of the world. + +Carfax had hurried forward, shaken hands with Brereton, and turned to +Avice while Brereton was making this rapid inspection. + +"So here you are, Brereton--and this young lady, I suppose, is Miss +Harborough?" he said, drawing a chair forward. "Glad you've come--and I +daresay you're wondering why you've been sent for? Well--all in good +time, but first--this gentleman is Mr. John Wraythwaite." + +The big man started forward, shook hands hastily with Brereton, and +turned more leisurely to Avice. + +"My dear young lady!" he said. "I--I--the fact is, I'm an old friend of +your father's, and--and it will be very soon now that he's all +right--and all that sort of thing, you know! You don't know me, of +course." + +Avice looked up at the big, bearded figure and from it to Brereton. + +"No!" she said. "But--I think it was you who sent that money to Mr. +Brereton." + +"Ah! you're anticipating, young lady!" exclaimed Carfax. "Yes--we've a +lot of talking to do. And we'd better all sit down and do it +comfortably. One moment," he continued, and turned away to the two men +in the window, who, after a few words with him, left the room. "Now +then--we'll do our first part of the business, Brereton!" he went on, as +they all took seats at a table near the fire. "You, of course, don't +know who this gentleman is?" + +"Not at all," replied Brereton. + +"Very good!" continued Carfax, rubbing his hands as if in enjoyment of +the situation. "Then you've some interesting facts to hear about him. To +begin with, he's the man who, when your client, this young lady's +father, is brought up at these coming Assizes, will prove a complete +_alibi_ on his behalf. In other words, he's the man with whom Harborough +was in company during the evening and the greater part of the night on +which Kitely was murdered." + +"I thought so," said Brereton. He looked reflectively at Mr. +Wraythwaite. "But why did you not come forward at once?" he asked. + +"My advice--my advice!" exclaimed Carfax hastily. "I'm going to explain +the reasons. Now, you won't understand, Brereton, but Miss Harborough, I +think, will know what I mean, or she'll have some idea, when I say that +this gentleman is now--now, mind you!--Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye." + +Avice looked up quickly with evident comprehension, and the solicitor +nodded. + +"You see--she knows," he went on, turning to Brereton. "At least, that +conveys something to her. But it doesn't to you. Well, my dear sir, if +you were a native of these parts it would. Wraye is one of the oldest +and most historic estates between here and the Tweed--everybody knows +Wraye. And everybody knows too that there has been quite a romance about +Wraye for some time--since the last Wraythwaite died, in fact. That +Wraythwaite was a confirmed old bachelor. He lived to a great age--he +outlived all his brothers and sisters, of whom he'd had several. He left +quite a tribe of nephews and nieces, who were distributed all over the +world. Needless to say, there was vast bother and trouble. Finally, one +of the nephews made a strong claim to the estate, as being the eldest +known heir. And he was until recently in good trim for establishing his +claim, when my client here arrived on the scene. For he is the eldest +nephew--he is the rightful heir--and I am thankful to say that--only +within this last day or two--his claim has been definitely recognized +and established, and all without litigation. Everything," continued +Carfax, again rubbing his hands with great satisfaction, "everything is +now all right, and Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye will take his proper and +rightful place amongst his own people." + +"I'm exceedingly glad to hear it," said Brereton, with a smile at the +big man, who continued to watch Avice as if his thoughts were with her +rather than with his solicitor's story. "But--you'll understand that I'd +like to know how all this affects my client?" + +"Ye--yes!" said Mr. Wraythwaite, hastily. "Tell Mr. Brereton, +Carfax--never mind me and my affairs--get on to poor Harborough." + +"Your affair and Harborough's are inextricably mixed, my dear sir," +retorted Carfax, good-humouredly. "I'm coming to the mingling of them. +Well," he continued, addressing himself again to Brereton. "This is how +things are--or were. I must tell you that the eldest brother of the late +Squire of Wraye married John Harborough's aunt--secretly. They had not +been married long before the husband emigrated. He went off to +Australia, leaving his wife behind until he had established +himself--there had been differences between him and his family, and he +was straitened in means. In his absence our friend here was born--and at +the same time, sad to say, his mother died. The child was brought up by +Harborough's mother--Mr. Wraythwaite and Harborough are foster-brothers. +It remained in the care of Harborough's mother--who kept the secret of +the marriage--until it was seven years old. Then, opportunity occurring, +it was taken to its father in Australia. The father, Matthew +Wraythwaite, made a big fortune in Australia, sheep-farming. He never +married again, and the fortune, of course, came at his death to his +only son--our friend. Now, he had been told of the secret marriage of +his father, but, being possessed of an ample fortune himself, he +concerned himself little about the rest of the old family. However, a +year or so ago, happening to read in the newspapers about the death of +the old Squire, his uncle, and the difficulty of definitely deciding the +real heirship, he came over to England. But he had no papers relating to +his father's marriage, and he did not know where it had taken place. At +that time he had not consulted me--in fact, he had consulted no one. If +he had consulted me," continued Carfax, with a knowing wink at Brereton, +"we should have put him right in a few hours. But he kept off +lawyers--and he sought out the only man he could remember--his +foster-brother, Harborough. And by Harborough's advice, they met +secretly. Harborough did not know where that marriage had taken +place--he had to make inquiries all over this district--he had to search +registers. Now and then, my client--not my client then, of course--came +to see Harborough; when he did so, he and Harborough met in quiet +places. And on the night on which that man Kitely was murdered," +concluded the solicitor, "Harborough was with my client from nine +o'clock until half-past four in the morning, when he parted with him +near Hexendale railway station. Mr. Wraythwaite will swear that." + +"And fortunately, we have some corroboration," observed Brereton, with a +glance at Avice, "for whether Mr. Wraythwaite knows it or not, his +meeting with Harborough on the moors that particular night was +witnessed." + +"Capital--capital!" exclaimed Carfax. "By a credible--and +creditable--witness?" + +"An old woman of exceptional character," answered Brereton, "except that +she indulges herself in a little night-poaching now and then." + +"Ah, well, we needn't tell that when she goes into the witness-box," +said Carfax. "But that's most satisfactory. My dear young lady!" he +added, turning to Avice, "your father will be released like--like one +o'clock! And then, I think," he went on bustling round on the new Squire +of Wraye, "then, my dear, I think Mr. Wraythwaite here----" + +"Leave that to me, Carfax," interrupted Mr. Wraythwaite, with a nod at +Avice. "I'll tell this young lady all about that myself. In the +meantime----" + +"Ah, just so!" responded Carfax. "In the meantime, we have something not +so interesting or pleasing, but extremely important, to tell Mr. +Brereton. Brereton--how are things going? Has any fresh light been +thrown on the Kitely murder? Nothing really certain and definite you +say? Very well, my dear sir--then you will allow me to throw some light +on it!" + +So saying, Carfax rose from his chair, quitted the room--and within +another minute returned, solemnly escorting the two detectives. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +PAGES FROM THE PAST + + +Before the solicitor and his companions could seat themselves at the +table whereat the former's preliminary explanation had been made, Mr. +Wraythwaite got up and motioned Avice to follow his example. + +"Carfax," he said, "there's no need for me to listen to all that you've +got to tell Mr. Brereton--I know it already. And I don't think it will +particularly interest Miss Harborough at the moment--she'll hear plenty +about it later on. She and I will leave you--make your explanations and +your arrangements, and we'll join you later on." + +He led the way to the door, beckoning Avice to accompany him. But Avice +paused and turned to Brereton. + +"You feel sure that it is all right now about my father?" she said. "You +feel certain? If you do----" + +"Yes--absolutely," answered Brereton, who knew what her question meant. +"And--we will let him know." + +"He knows!" exclaimed Carfax. "That is, he knows that Mr. Wraythwaite +is here, and that everything's all right. Run away, my dear young lady, +and be quite happy--Mr. Wraythwaite will tell you everything you want to +know. And now, my dear sir," he continued, as he shut the door on +Wraythwaite and Avice and bustled back to the table, "there are things +that you want to know, and that you are going to know--from me and from +these two gentlemen. Mr. Stobb--Mr. Leykin. Both ex-Scotland Yard men, +and now in business for themselves as private inquiry agents. Smart +fellows--though I say it to their faces." + +"I gather from that that you have been doing some private inquiry work, +then?" said Brereton. "In connexion with what, now?" + +"Let us proceed in order," answered Carfax, taking a seat at the head of +the table and putting his fingers together in a judicial attitude. "I +will open the case. When Wraythwaite--a fine fellow, who, between +ourselves, is going to do great things for Harborough and his +daughter--when Wraythwaite, I say, heard of what had happened down here, +he was naturally much upset. His first instinct was to rush to +Highmarket at once and tell everything. However, instead of doing that, +he very wisely came to me. Having heard all that he had to tell, I +advised him, as it was absolutely certain that no harm could come to +Harborough in the end, to let matters rest for the time being, until we +had put the finishing touches to his own affair. He, however, insisted +on sending you that money--which was done: nothing else would satisfy +him. But now arose a deeply interesting phase of the whole +affair--which has been up to now kept secret between Wraythwaite, +myself, and Messrs. Stobb and Leykin there. To it I now invite your +attention." + +Mr. Carfax here pulled out a memorandum book from his pocket, and having +fitted on his spectacles glanced at a page or two within it. + +"Now," he presently continued, "Wraythwaite being naturally +deeply interested in the Kitely case, he procured the local +newspapers--Norcaster and Highmarket papers, you know--so that he could +read all about it. There was in those papers a full report of the first +proceedings before the magistrates, and Wraythwaite was much struck by +your examination of the woman Miss Pett. In fact, he was so much struck +by your questions and her replies that he brought the papers to me, and +we read them together. And, although we knew well enough that we should +eventually have no difficulty whatever in proving an _alibi_ in +Harborough's behalf, we decided that in his interest we would make a few +guarded but strict inquiries into Miss Pett's antecedents." + +Brereton started. Miss Pett! Ah!--he had had ideas respecting Miss Pett +at the beginning of things, but other matters had cropped up, and +affairs had moved and developed so rapidly that he had almost forgotten +her. + +"That makes you think," continued Carfax, with a smile. "Just so!--and +what took place at that magistrates' sitting made Wraythwaite and myself +think. And, as I say, we employed Stobb and Leykin, men of great +experience, to--just find out a little about Miss Pett. Of course, Miss +Pett herself had given us something to go on. She had told you some +particulars of her career. She had been housekeeper to a Major Stilman, +at Kandahar Cottage, Woking. She had occupied posts at two London +hotels. So--Stobb went to Woking, and Leykin devoted himself to the +London part of the business. + +"And I think, Stobb," concluded the solicitor, turning to one of the +inquiry agents, "I think you'd better tell Mr. Brereton what you found +out at Woking, and then Leykin can tell us what he brought to light +elsewhere." + +Stobb, a big, cheery-faced man, who looked like a highly respectable +publican, turned to Brereton with a smile. + +"It was a very easy job, sir," he said. "I found out all about the lady +and her connexion with Woking in a very few hours. There are plenty of +folk at Woking who remember Miss Pett--she gave you the mere facts of +her residence there correctly enough. But--naturally--she didn't tell +you more than the mere facts, the surface, as it were. Now, I got at +everything. Miss Pett was housekeeper at Woking to a Major Stilman, a +retired officer of an infantry regiment. All the time she was with +him--some considerable period--he was more or less of an invalid, and he +was well known to suffer terribly from some form of neuralgia. He got +drugs to alleviate the pain of that neuralgia from every chemist in the +place, one time or another. And one day, Major Stilman was found dead in +bed, with some of these drugs by his bedside. Of course an inquest was +held, and, equally of course, the evidence of doctors and chemists +being what it was, a verdict of death from misadventure--overdose of the +stuff, you know--was returned. Against Miss Pett there appears to have +been no suspicion in Woking at that time--and for the matter of that," +concluded Mr. Stobb drily, "I don't know that there is now." + +"You have some yourself?" suggested Brereton. + +"I went into things further," answered Mr. Stobb, with the ghost of a +wink. "I found out how things were left--by Stilman. Stilman had nothing +but his pension, and a capital sum of about two thousand pounds. He left +that two thousand, and the furniture of his house, to Miss Pett. The +will had been executed about a twelvemonth before Stilman died. It was +proved as quickly as could be after his death, and of course Miss Pett +got her legacy. She sold the furniture--and left the neighbourhood." + +"What is your theory?" asked Brereton. + +Mr. Stobb nodded across the table at Carfax. + +"Not my business to say what my theories are, Mr. Brereton," he +answered. "All I had to do was to find out facts, and report them to Mr. +Carfax and Mr. Wraythwaite." + +"All the same," said Brereton quietly, "you think it quite possible that +Miss Pett, knowing that Stilman took these strong doses, and having a +pecuniary motive, gave him a still stronger one? Come, now!" + +Stobb smiled, rubbed his chin and looked at Carfax. And Carfax pointed +to Stobb's partner, a very quiet, observant man who had listened with a +sly expression on his face. + +"Your turn, Leykin," he said. "Tell the result of your inquiries." + +Leykin was one of those men who possess soft voices and slow speech. +Invited to play his part, he looked at Brereton as if he were half +apologizing for anything he had to say. + +"Well," he said, "of course, sir, what Miss Pett told you about her +posts at two London hotels was quite right. She had been storekeeper at +one, and linen-keeper at another--before she went to Major Stilman. +There was nothing against her at either of those places. But of course I +wanted to know more about her than that. Now she said in answer to you +that before she went to the first of those hotels she had lived at home +with her father, a Sussex farmer. So she had--but it was a long time +before. She had spent ten years in India between leaving home and going +to the Royal Belvedere. She went out to India as a nurse in an officer's +family. And while she was in India she was charged with strangling a +fellow-servant--a Eurasian girl who had excited her jealousy." + +Brereton started again at that, and he turned a sharp glance on Carfax, +who nodded emphatically and signed to Leykin to proceed. + +"I have the report of that affair in my pocket," continued Leykin, more +softly and slowly than ever. "It's worth reading, Mr. Brereton, and +perhaps you'll amuse yourself with it sometime. But I can give you the +gist of it in a few words. Pett was evidently in love with her master's +orderly. He wasn't in love with her. She became madly jealous of this +Eurasian girl, who was under-nurse. The Eurasian girl was found near the +house one night with a cord tightly twisted round her neck--dead, of +course. There were no other signs of violence, but some gold ornaments +which the girl wore had disappeared. Pett was tried--and she was +discharged, for she set up an _alibi_--of a sort that wouldn't have +satisfied me," remarked Leykin in an aside. "But there was a queer bit +of evidence given which you may think of use now. One of the witnesses +said that Pett had been much interested in reading some book about the +methods of the Thugs, and had talked in the servants' quarters of how +they strangled their victims with shawls of the finest silk. Now this +Eurasian girl had been strangled with a silk handkerchief--and if that +handkerchief could only have been traced to Pett, she'd have been found +guilty. But, as I said, she was found not guilty--and she left her place +at once and evidently returned to England. That's all, sir." + +"Stobb has a matter that might be mentioned," said Carfax, glancing at +the other inquiry agent. + +"Well, it's not much, Mr. Brereton," said Stobb. "It's merely that we've +ascertained that Kitely had left all he had to this woman, and that----" + +"I know that," interrupted Brereton. "She made no concealment of it. Or, +rather, her nephew, acting for her, didn't." + +"Just so," remarked Stobb drily. "But did you know that the nephew had +already proved the will, and sold the property? No?--well, he has! Not +much time lost, you see, after the old man's death, sir. In fact, it's +been done about as quickly as it well could be done. And of course Miss +Pett will have received her legacy--which means that by this time she'll +have got all that Kitely had to leave." + +Brereton turned to the solicitor, who, during the recital of facts by +the two inquiry agents, had maintained his judicial attitude, as if he +were on the bench and listening to the opening statements of counsel. + +"Are you suggesting, all of you that you think Miss Pett murdered +Kitely?" he asked. "I should like a direct answer to that question." + +"My dear sir!" exclaimed Carfax. "What does it look like? You've heard +the woman's record! The probability is that she did murder that +Eurasian, girl--that she took advantage of Stilman's use of drugs to +finish him off. She certainly benefited by Stilman's death--and she's +without doubt benefited by Kitely's. I repeat--what does it look like?" + +"What do you propose to do?" asked Brereton. + +The inquiry agents glanced at each other and then at Carfax. And Carfax +slowly took off his spectacles with a flourish, and looked more judicial +than ever as he answered the young barrister's question. + +"I will tell you what I propose to do," he replied. "I propose to take +these two men over to Highmarket this evening and to let them tell the +Highmarket police all they have just told you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +WITHOUT THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCE + + +Everything was very quiet in the house where Mallalieu lay wide-awake +and watchful. It seemed to him that he had never known it so quiet +before. It was quiet at all times, both day and night, for Miss Pett had +a habit of going about like a cat, and Christopher was decidedly of the +soft-footed order, and stepped from one room to another as if he were +perpetually afraid of waking somebody or trusting his own weight on his +own toes. But on this particular night the silence seemed to be +unusual--and it was all the deeper because no sound, not even the faint +sighing of the wind in the firs and pines outside came to break it. And +Mallalieu's nerves, which had gradually become sharpened and irritated +by his recent adventures and his close confinement, became still more +irritable, still more set on edge, and it was with difficulty that he +forced himself to lie still and to listen. Moreover, he was feeling the +want of the stuff which had soothed him into such sound slumber every +night since he had been taken in charge by Miss Pett, and he knew very +well that though he had flung it away his whole system was crying out +for the lack of it. + +What were those two devils after, he wondered as he lay there in the +darkness? No good--that was certain. Now that he came to reflect upon it +their conduct during the afternoon and evening had not been of a +reassuring sort. Christopher had kept entirely away from him; he had not +seen Christopher at all since the discussion of the afternoon, which +Miss Pett had terminated so abruptly. He had seen Miss Pett twice or +thrice--Miss Pett's attitude on each occasion had been that of injured +innocence. She had brought him his tea in silence, his supper with no +more than a word. It was a nice supper--she set it before him with an +expression which seemed to say that however badly she herself was +treated, she would do her duty by others. And Mallalieu, seeing that +expression, had not been able to refrain from one of his sneering +remarks. + +"Think yourself very badly done to, don't you, missis!" he had exclaimed +with a laugh. "Think I'm a mean 'un, what?" + +"I express no opinion, Mr. Mallalieu," replied Miss Pett, frigidly and +patiently. "I think it better for people to reflect. A night's +reflection," she continued as she made for the door, "oft brings wisdom, +even to them as doesn't usually cultivate it." + +Mallalieu had no objection to the cultivation of wisdom--for his own +benefit, and he was striving to produce something from the process as he +lay there, waiting. But he said to himself that it was easy enough to be +wise after the event--and for him the event had happened. He was in the +power of these two, whom he had long since recognized as an +unscrupulous woman and a shifty man. They had nothing to do but hand +him over to the police if they liked: for anything he knew, Chris Pett +might already have played false and told the police of affairs at the +cottage. And yet on deeper reflection, he did not think that +possible--for it was evident that aunt and nephew were after all they +could get, and they would get nothing from the police authorities, while +they might get a good deal from him. But--what did they expect to get +from him? He had been a little perplexed by their attitude when he asked +them if they expected him to carry a lot of money on him--a fugitive. +Was it possible--the thought came to him like a thunderclap in the +darkness--that they knew, or had some idea, of what he really had on +him? That Miss Pett had drugged him every night he now felt sure--well, +then, in that case how did he know that she hadn't entered his room and +searched his belongings, and especially the precious waistcoat? + +Mallalieu had deposited that waistcoat in the same place every night--on +a chair which stood at the head of his bed. He had laid it folded on the +chair, had deposited his other garments in layers upon it, had set his +candlestick and a box of matches on top of all. And everything had +always been there, just as he had placed things, every morning when he +opened his eyes. But--he had come to know Miss Pett's stealthiness by +that time, and ... + +He put out a hand now and fingered the pile of garments which lay, +neatly folded, within a few inches of his head. It was all right, then, +of course, and his hand drew back--to the revolver, separated from his +cheek by no more than the thickness of the pillow. The touch of that +revolver made him begin speculating afresh. If Miss Pett or Christopher +had meddled with the waistcoat, the revolver, too, might have been +meddled with. Since he had entered the cottage, he had never examined +either waistcoat or revolver. Supposing the charges had been +drawn?--supposing he was defenceless, if a pinch came? He began to sweat +with fear at the mere thought, and in the darkness he fumbled with the +revolver in an effort to discover whether it was still loaded. And just +then came a sound--and Mallalieu grew chill with suspense. + +It was a very small sound--so small that it might have been no more than +that caused by the scratch of the tiniest mouse in the wainscot. But in +that intense silence it was easily heard--and with it came the faint +glimmering of a light. The light widened--there was a little further +sound--and Mallalieu, peeping at things through his eyelashes became +aware that the door was open, that a tall, spare figure was outlined +between the bed and the light without. And in that light, outside the +door, well behind the thin form of Miss Pett, he saw Christopher Pett's +sharp face and the glint of his beady eyes. + +Mallalieu was sharp enough of thought, and big man though he was, he had +always been quick of action. He knew what Miss Pett's objective was, and +he let her advance half-way across the room on her stealthy path to the +waistcoat. But silently as she came on with that cat-like tread, +Mallalieu had just as silently drawn the revolver from beneath his +pillow and turned its small muzzle on her. It had a highly polished +barrel, that revolver, and Miss Pett suddenly caught a tiny +scintillation of light on it--and she screamed. And as she screamed +Mallalieu fired, and the scream died down to a queer choking sound ... +and he fired again ... and where Christopher Pett's face had shown +itself a second before there was nothing--save another choking sound and +a fall in the entry where Christopher had stood and watched. + +After that followed a silence so deep that Mallalieu felt the drums of +his ears aching intensely in the effort to catch any sound, however +small. But he heard nothing--not even a sigh. It was as if all the awful +silences that had ever been in the cavernous places of the world had +been crystallized into one terrible silence and put into that room. + +He reached out at last and found his candle and the matches, and he got +more light and leaned forward in the bed, looking. + +"Can't ha' got 'em both!" he muttered. "Both? But----" + +He slowly lifted himself out of bed, huddled on some of the garments +that lay carefully folded on the chair, and then, holding the candle to +the floor, went forward to where the woman lay. She had collapsed +between the foot of the bed and the wall; her shoulders were propped +against the wall and the grotesque turban hung loosely down on one +shoulder. And Mallalieu knew in that quick glance that she was dead, and +he crept onward to the door and looked at the other still figure, lying +just as supinely in the passage that led to the living-room. He looked +longer at that ... and suddenly he turned back into his +parlour-bedchamber, and carefully avoiding the dead woman put on his +boots and began to dress with feverish haste. + +And while he hurried on his clothes Mallalieu thought. He was not sure +that he had meant to kill these two. He would have delighted in killing +them certainly, hating them as he did, but he had an idea that when he +fired he only meant to frighten them. But that was neither here nor +there now. They were dead, but he was alive--and he must get out of +that, and at once. The moors--the hills--anywhere.... + +A sudden heavy knocking at the door at the back of the cottage set +Mallalieu shaking. He started for the front--to hear knocking there, +too. Then came voices demanding admittance, and loudly crying the dead +woman's name. He crept to a front window at that, and carefully drew a +corner of the blind and looked out, and saw many men in the garden. One +of them had a lantern, and as its glare glanced about Mallalieu set eyes +on Cotherstone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +COTHERSTONE + + +Cotherstone walked out of the dock and the court and the Town Hall +amidst a dead silence--which was felt and noticed by everybody but +himself. At that moment he was too elated, too self-satisfied to notice +anything. He held his head very high as he went out by the crowded +doorway, and through the crowd which had gathered on the stairs; he +might have been some general returning to be publicly fêted as he +emerged upon the broad steps under the Town Hall portico and threw a +triumphant glance at the folk who had gathered there to hear the latest +news. And there, in the open air, and with all those staring eyes upon +him, he unconsciously indulged in a characteristic action. He had caused +his best clothes to be sent to him at Norcaster Gaol the previous night, +and he had appeared in them in the dock. The uppermost garment was an +expensive overcoat, finished off with a deep fur collar: now, as he +stood there on the top step, facing the crowd, he unbuttoned the coat, +threw its lapels aside, and took a long, deep breath, as if he were +inhaling the free air of liberty. There were one or two shrewd and +observant folk amongst the onlookers--it seemed to them that this +unconscious action typified that Cotherstone felt himself throwing off +the shackles which he had worn, metaphorically speaking, for the last +eight days. + +But in all that crowd, no one went near Cotherstone. There were many of +his fellow-members of the Corporation in it--councillors, aldermen--but +none of them approached him or even nodded to him; all they did was to +stare. The news of what had happened had quickly leaked out: it was +known before he came into view that Cotherstone had been discharged--his +appearance in that bold, self-assured fashion only led to covert +whispers and furtive looks. But suddenly, from somewhere in the crowd, a +sneering voice flung a contemptuous taunt across the staring faces. + +"Well done, Cotherstone!--saved your own neck, anyway!" + +There was a ripple of jeering laughter at that, and as Cotherstone +turned angrily in the direction from whence the voice came, another, +equally contemptuous, lifted itself from another corner of the crowd. + +"King's evidence! Yah!--who'd believe Cotherstone? Liar!" + +Cotherstone's face flushed angrily--the flush died as quickly away and +gave place to a sickly pallor. And at that a man who had stood near him +beneath the portico, watching him inquisitively, stepped nearer and +whispered-- + +"Go home, Mr. Cotherstone!--take my advice, and get quietly away, at +once!" + +Cotherstone rejected this offer of good counsel with a sudden spasm of +furious anger. + +"You be hanged!" he snarled. "Who's asking you for your tongue? D'ye +think I'm afraid of a pack like yon? Who's going to interfere with me, +I'd like to know? Go home yourself!" + +He turned towards the door from which he had just emerged--turned to see +his solicitor and his counsel coming out together. And his sudden anger +died down, and his face relaxed to a smile of triumph. + +"Now then!" he exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you how it would be, a week +since! Come on across to the Arms and I'll stand a bottle--aye, two, +three, if you like!--of the very best. Come on, both of you." + +The solicitor, glancing around, saw something of the state of affairs, +hurriedly excused himself, and slipped back into the Town Hall by +another entrance. But the barrister, a man who, great as his forensic +abilities were, was one of those people who have no private reputation +to lose, and of whom it was well known that he could never withstand the +temptation to a bottle of champagne, assented readily, and with great +good humour. And he and Cotherstone, arm in arm, walked down the steps +and across the Market Place--and behind them the crowd sneered and +laughed and indulged in audible remarks. + +Cotherstone paid, or affected to pay, no heed. He steered his companion +into the Arms, and turned into the great bow-windowed room which served +as morning meeting-place for all the better class of loungers and +townsmen in Highmarket. The room was full already. Men had come across +from the court, and from the crowd outside; a babel of talk arose from +every corner. But when Cotherstone and the well-known barrister (so +famous in that circuit for his advocacy of criminals that he had +acquired the nickname of the Felons' Friend) entered, a dead silence +fell, and men looked at this curious pair and then at each other with +significant glances. + +In that silence, Cotherstone, seizing a waiter, loudly demanded +champagne and cigars: he glared defiantly around him as he supplemented +the order with a command for the best box of cigars in the house, the +best champagne in the cellars. A loud laugh from some corner of the room +broke the silence, and the waiter, a shrewd fellow who saw how things +were, gave Cotherstone a look. + +"Come into the small parlour, Mr. Cotherstone," he whispered. "Nobody in +there--you'll be more comfortable, sir." + +"All right, then," responded Cotherstone. He glared once more at the +company around him, and his defiance suddenly broke out in another +fashion. "Any friend of mine that likes to join us," he said pointedly, +"is welcome. Who's coming, like?" + +There was another hoarse laugh at this, and most of the men there turned +their backs on Cotherstone and began to talk loudly. But one or two of +the less particular and baser sort, whom Cotherstone would certainly not +have called friends a week before, nudged each other and made towards +the door which the waiter held invitingly open--it was not every day +that the best champagne and the best cigars were to be had for nothing, +and if Cotherstone liked to fling his money about, what did it matter, +so long as they benefited by his folly? + +"That's the style!" said Cotherstone, pushing the barrister along. +"Bring two--bring three bottles," he cried to the waiter. "Big +'uns!--and the best." + +An elderly man, one of Cotherstone's fellow-members of the Corporation, +came forward and caught him by the arm. + +"Cotherstone!" he whispered. "Don't be a fool! Think of what's only just +over. Go home, like a good fellow--go quietly home. You're doing no good +with this--you'll have all the town talking!" + +"Hang the town, and you too!" snapped Cotherstone. "You're one of them +that shouted at me in front of the Town Hall, curse you! I'll let you +and all Highmarket see what I care for you. What's it to you if I have a +quiet glass of wine with my friends?" + +But there was no quiet drinking of a glass of wine in the parlour to +which Cotherstone and his cronies retired. Whenever its door opened +Cotherstone's excited tones were heard in the big room, and the more +sober-minded of the men who listened began to shake their heads. + +"What's the matter with him?" asked one. "Nobody ever knew him like this +before! What's he carrying on in that fashion for?" + +"He's excited with getting off," said another. "And that bit of a scene +outside there threw him off his balance. He should ha' been taken +straight home. Nice lot he's got with him, too! We all know what yon +barrister chap is--he can drink champagne like water, they say, and for +the others--listen to that, now!" he added as a burst of excited talking +came through the opened door. "He'll be in a fine fit state to go home +to that daughter of his, I know, if that goes on." + +"It mustn't go on," said another, and got up. "I'll go across to Bent's +and get him to come over and take Cotherstone away. Bent's the only man +that'll have any influence with him." + +He went out and crossed the Market Place to Bent's office. But Bent was +not there. By his advice Lettie had gone to stay with some friends until +the recent proceedings were over in one way or another, and Bent +himself, as soon as Cotherstone had left the court, had hurried away to +catch a train to the town in which she was temporarily staying in order +to tell her the news and bring her home. So the would-be doer-of-good +went back disappointed--and as he reached the hotel, Cotherstone and the +barrister emerged from it, parted at the door with evident great +cordiality, and went their several ways. And Cotherstone, passing the +man who had been to Bent's, stared him in the face and cut him dead. + +"It's going to be war to the knife between Cotherstone and the town," +remarked the ambassador, when he re-entered the big room and joined his +own circle. "He passed me just now as if I were one of the paving-stones +he trod on! And did you see his face as he went out?--egad, instead of +looking as if he'd had too much to drink, he looked too sober to please +me. You mind if something doesn't happen--yon fellow's desperate!" + +"What should he be desperate about?" asked one of the group. "He's saved +his own neck!" + +"It was that shouting at him when he came out that did it," observed +another man quietly. "He's the sort of man to resent aught like that. If +Cotherstone thinks public opinion's against him--well, we shall see!" + +Cotherstone walked steadily away through the Market Place when he left +the barrister. Whatever the men in the big room might have thought, he +had not been indulging too freely in the little parlour. He had pressed +champagne on the group around him, but the amount he had taken himself +had not been great and it had pulled him together instead of +intoxicating him. And his excitement had suddenly died down, and he had +stopped what might have developed into a drinking bout by saying that he +must go home. And once outside, he made for his house, and as he went he +looked neither to right nor left, and if he met friend or acquaintance +his face became hard as flint. + +Cotherstone, indeed, was burning and seething with indignation. The +taunts flung at him as he stood on the Town Hall steps, the looks turned +in his direction as he walked away with the convivially inclined +barrister, the expression on the faces of the men in the big room at the +Highmarket Arms--all these things had stung him to the quick. He knew, +whatever else he might have been, or was, he had proved a faithful +servant to the town. He had been a zealous member of the Corporation, he +had taken hold of the financial affairs of the borough when they were in +a bad way and had put them in a safe and prosperous footing; he had +worked, thought, and planned for the benefit of the place--and this was +his reward! For he knew that those taunts, those looks, those +half-averted, half-sneering faces meant one thing, and one thing +only--the Highmarket men believed him equally guilty with Mallalieu, and +had come to the conclusion that he was only let off in order that direct +evidence against Mallalieu might be forthcoming. He cursed them deeply +and bitterly--and sneered at them in the same breath, knowing that even +as they were weathercocks, veering this way and that at the least breath +of public opinion, so they were also utter fools, wholly unable to see +or to conjecture. + +The excitement that had seized upon Cotherstone in face of that public +taunting of him died away in the silence of his own house--when Lettie +and Bent returned home in the course of the afternoon they found him +unusually cool and collected. Bent had come with uneasy feelings and +apprehensions; one of the men who had been at the Highmarket Arms had +chanced to be in the station when he and Lettie arrived, and had drawn +him aside and told him of what had occurred, and that Cotherstone was +evidently going on the drink. But there were no signs of anything +unusual about Cotherstone when Bent found him. He said little about the +events of the morning to either Bent or Lettie; he merely remarked that +things had turned out just as he had expected and that now perhaps they +would get matters settled; he had tea with them; he was busy with his +books and papers in his own room until supper-time; he showed no signs +of anything unusual at supper, and when an hour later he left the house, +saying that he must go down to the office and fetch the accumulated +correspondence, his manner was so ordinary that Bent saw no reason why +he should accompany him. + +But Cotherstone had no intention of going to his office. He left his +house with a fixed determination. He would know once and for all what +Highmarket felt towards and about him. He was not the man to live under +suspicion and averted looks, and if he was to be treated as a suspect +and a pariah he would know at once. + +There was at that time in Highmarket a small and select club, having its +house in the Market Place, to which all the principal townsmen belonged. +Both Mallalieu and Cotherstone had been members since its foundation; +Cotherstone, indeed, was its treasurer. He knew that the club would be +crowded that night--very well, he would go there and boldly face public +opinion. If his fellow-members cut him, gave him the cold shoulder, +ignored him--all right, he would know what to do then. + +But Cotherstone never got inside the club. As he set his foot on the +threshold he met one of the oldest members--an alderman of the borough, +for whom he had a great respect. This man, at sight of him, started, +stopped, laid a friendly but firm hand on his arm, and deliberately +turned him round. + +"No, my lad!" he said kindly. "Not in there tonight! If you don't know +how to take care of yourself, let a friend take care of you. Have a bit +of sense, Cotherstone! Do you want to expose yourself again to what you +got outside the Town Hall this noon! No--no!--go away, my lad, go +home--come home with me, if you like--you're welcome!" + +The last word softened Cotherstone: he allowed himself to be led away +along the street. + +"I'm obliged to you," he said brusquely. "You mean well. But--do you +mean to say that those fellows in there--men that know me--are +thinking--that!" + +"It's a hard, censorious world, this," answered the elder man. "Leave +'em alone a bit--don't shove yourself on 'em. Come away--come home and +have a cigar with me." + +"Thank you," said Cotherstone. "You wouldn't ask me to do that if you +thought as they do. Thank you! But I've something to do--and I'll go and +do it at once." + +He pressed his companion's arm, and turned away--and the other man +watching him closely, saw him walk off to the police-station, to the +superintendent's private door. He saw him enter--and at that he shook +his head and went away himself, wondering what it was that Cotherstone +wanted with the police. + +The superintendent, tired by a long day's work, was taking his ease with +his pipe and his glass when Cotherstone was shown into his parlour. He +started with amazement at the sight of his visitor: Cotherstone motioned +him back to his chair. + +"Don't let me disturb you," said Cotherstone. "I want a word or two with +you in private--that's all." + +The superintendent had heard of the scene at the hotel, and had had his +fears about its sequel. But he was quick to see that his visitor was not +only sober, but remarkably cool and normal, and he hastened to offer +him a glass of whisky. + +"Aye, thank you, I will," replied Cotherstone, seating himself. "It'll +be the first spirits I've tasted since you locked me up, and I daresay +it'll do me no harm. Now then," he went on as the two settled themselves +by the hearth, "I want a bit of a straight talk with you. You know +me--we've been friends. I want you to tell me, straight, plain, +truthful--what are Highmarket folk thinking and saying about me? Come!" + +The superintendent's face clouded and he shook his head. + +"Well, you know what folks will be, Mr. Cotherstone!" he answered. "And +you know how very ready to say nasty things these Highmarket people are. +I'm not a Highmarket man myself, any more than you are, and I've always +regarded 'em as very bitter-tongued folk, and so----" + +"Out with it!" said Cotherstone. "Let's know the truth--never mind what +tongues it comes from. What are they saying?" + +"Well," replied the superintendent, reluctantly, "of course I get to +hear everything. If you must have it, the prevailing notion is that both +you and Mr. Mallalieu had a hand in Kitely's death. They think his +murder's at your doors, and that what happened to Stoner was a +by-chance. And if you want the whole truth, they think you're a deal +cleverer than Mallalieu, and that Kitely probably met his end at your +hands, with your partner's connivance. And there are those who say that +if Mallalieu's caught--as he will be--he'll split on you. That's all, +sir." + +"And what do you think?" demanded Cotherstone. + +The superintendent shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"I've never been able to bring myself to think that either you or +Mallalieu 'ud murder a man in cold blood, as Kitely was murdered," he +said. "As regards Stoner, I've firmly held to it that Mallalieu struck +him in a passion. But--I've always felt this--you, or Mallalieu, or both +of you, know more about the Kitely affair than you've ever told!" + +Cotherstone leaned forward and tapped his host on the arm. + +"I do!" he said significantly. "You're right in that. I--do!" + +The superintendent laid down his pipe and looked at his visitor gravely. + +"Then for goodness sake, Mr. Cotherstone," he exclaimed, "for goodness +sake, tell! For as sure as we're sitting here, as things are at present, +Mallalieu 'll hang if you don't! If he doesn't hang for Stoner, he will +for Kitely, for if he gets off over Stoner he'll be re-arrested on the +other charge." + +"Half an hour ago," remarked Cotherstone, "I shouldn't have minded if +Mallalieu had been hanged half a dozen times. Revenge is sweet--and I've +good reason for being revenged on Mallalieu. But now--I'm inclined to +tell the truth. Do you know why? Why--to show these Highmarket folks +that they're wrong!" + +The superintendent sighed. He was a plain, honest, simple man, and +Cotherstone's reason seemed a strange--even a wicked one--to him. To +tell the truth merely to spite one's neighbour--a poor, poor reason, +when there was life at stake. + +"Aye, Mr. Cotherstone, but you ought to tell the truth in any case!" he +said. "If you know it, get it out and be done with it. We've had enough +trouble already. If you can clear things up----" + +"Listen!" interrupted Cotherstone. "I'll tell you all I know--privately. +If you think good, it can be put into proper form. Very well, then! You +remember the night of Kitely's murder?" + +"Aye, I should think so!" said the superintendent. "Good reason to!" + +"Let your mind go back to it, and to what you've since heard of it," +said Cotherstone. "You know that on that afternoon Kitely had threatened +me and Mallalieu with exposure about the Wilchester affair. He wanted to +blackmail us. I told Mallalieu, of course--we were both to think about +it till next day. But I did naught but think--I didn't want exposure for +my daughter's sake: I'd ha' given anything to avoid it, naturally. I had +young Bent and that friend of his, Brereton, to supper that night--I was +so full of thought that I went out and left 'em for an hour or more. The +truth was I wanted to get a word with Kitely. I went up the wood at the +side of my house towards Kitely's cottage--and all of a sudden I came +across a man lying on the ground--him!--just where we found him +afterwards." + +"Dead?" asked the superintendent. + +"Only just," replied Cotherstone. "But he was dead--and I saw what had +caused his death, for I struck a match to look at him. I saw that empty +pocket-book lying by--I saw a scrap of folded newspaper, too, and I +picked it up and later, when I'd read it, I put it in a safe place--I've +taken it from that place tonight for the first time, and it's here--you +keep it. Well--I went on, up to the cottage. The door was open--I looked +in. Yon woman, Miss Pett, was at the table by the lamp, turning over +some papers--I saw Kitely's writing on some of 'em. I stepped softly in +and tapped her on the arm, and she screamed and started back. I looked +at her. 'Do you know that your master's lying dead, murdered, down +amongst those trees?' I said. Then she pulled herself together, and she +sort of got between me and the door. 'No, I don't!' she says. 'But if he +is, I'm not surprised, for I've warned him many a time about going out +after nightfall.' I looked hard at her. 'What're you doing with his +papers there?' I says. 'Papers!' she says. 'They're naught but old bills +and things that he gave me to sort.' 'That's a lie!' I says, 'those +aren't bills and I believe you know something about this, and I'm off +for the police--to tell!' Then she pushed the door to behind her and +folded her arms and looked at me. 'You tell a word,' she says, 'and I'll +tell it all over the town that you and your partner's a couple of +ex-convicts! I know your tale--Kitely'd no secrets from me. You stir a +step to tell anybody, and I'll begin by going straight to young +Bent--and I'll not stop at that, neither.' So you see where I was--I was +frightened to death of that old affair getting out, and I knew then that +Kitely was a liar and had told this old woman all about it, and--well, +I hesitated. And she saw that she had me, and she went on, 'You hold +your tongue, and I'll hold mine!' she says. 'Nobody'll accuse me, I +know--but if you speak one word, I'll denounce you! You and your partner +are much more likely to have killed Kitely than I am!' Well, I still +stood, hesitating. 'What's to be done?' I asked at last. 'Do naught,' +she said. 'Go home, like a wise man, and know naught about it. Let him +be found--and say naught. But if you do, you know what to expect.' 'Not +a word that I came in here, then?' I said at last. 'Nobody'll get no +words from me beyond what I choose to give 'em', she says. 'And--silence +about the other?' I said. 'Just as long as you're silent,' she says. And +with that I walked out--and I set off towards home by another way. And +just as I was leaving the wood to turn into the path that leads into our +lane I heard a man coming along and I shrank into some shrubs and +watched for him till he came close up. He passed me and went on to the +cottage--and I slipped back then and looked in through the window, and +there he was, and they were both whispering together at the table. And +it--was this woman's nephew--Pett, the lawyer." + +The superintendent, whose face had assumed various expressions during +this narrative, lifted his hands in amazement. + +"But--but we were in and about that cottage most of that +night--afterwards!" he exclaimed. "We never saw aught of him. I know he +was supposed to come down from London the _next_ night, but----" + +"Tell you he was there _that_ night!" insisted Cotherstone. "D'ye think +I could mistake him? Well, I went home--and you know what happened +afterwards: you know what she said and how she behaved when we went +up--and of course I played my part. But--that bit of newspaper I've +given you. I read it carefully that night, last thing. It's a column cut +out of a Woking newspaper of some years ago--it's to do with an inquest +in which this woman was concerned--there seems to be some evidence that +she got rid of an employer of hers by poison. And d'ye know what I +think, now?--I think that had been sent to Kitely, and he'd plagued her +about it, or held it out as a threat to her--and--what is it?" + +The superintendent had risen and was taking down his overcoat. + +"Do you know that this woman's leaving the town tomorrow?" he said. "And +there's her nephew with her, now--been here for a week? Of course, I +understand why you've told me all this, Mr. Cotherstone--now that your +old affair at Wilchester is common knowledge, far and wide, you don't +care, and you don't see any reason for more secrecy?" + +"My reason," answered Cotherstone, with a grim smile, "is to show +Highmarket folk that they aren't so clever as they think. For the +probability is that Kitely was killed by that woman, or her nephew, or +both." + +"I'm going up there with a couple of my best men, any way," said the +superintendent. "There's no time to lose if they're clearing out +tomorrow." + +"I'll come with you," said Cotherstone. He waited, staring at the fire +until the superintendent had been into the adjacent police-station and +had come back to say that he and his men were ready. "What do you mean +to do?" he asked as the four of them set out. "Take them?" + +"Question them first," answered the superintendent. "I shan't let them +get out of my sight, any way, after what you've told me, for I expect +you're right in your conclusions. What is it?" he asked, as one of the +two men who followed behind called him. + +The man pointed down the Market Place to the doors of the +police-station. + +"Two cars just pulled up there, sir," he said. "Came round the corner +just now from the Norcaster road." + +The superintendent glanced back and saw two staring headlights standing +near his own door. + +"Oh, well, there's Smith there," he said. "And if it's anybody wanting +me, he knows where I've gone. Come on--for aught we know these two may +have cleared out already." + +But there were thin cracks of light in the living-room window of the +lonely cottage on the Shawl, and the superintendent whispered that +somebody was certainly there and still up. He halted his companions +outside the garden gate and turned to Cotherstone. + +"I don't know if it'll be advisable for you to be seen," he said. "I +think our best plan'll be for me to knock at the front door and ask for +the woman. You other two go round--quietly--to the back door, and take +care that nobody gets out that way to the moors at the back--if anybody +once escapes to those moors they're as good as lost for ever on a dark +night. Go round--and when you hear me knock at the front, you knock at +the back." + +The two men slipped away round the corner of the garden and through the +adjacent belt of trees, and the superintendent gently lifted the latch +of the garden gate. + +"You keep back, Mr. Cotherstone, when I go to the door," he said. "You +never know--hullo, what's this?" + +Men were coming up the wood behind them, quietly but quickly. One of +them, ahead of the others, carried a bull's-eye lamp and in swinging it +about revealed himself as one of the superintendent's own officers. He +caught sight of his superior and came forward. + +"Mr. Brereton's here, sir, and some gentlemen from Norcaster," he said. +"They want to see you particularly--something about this place, so I +brought them----" + +It was at that moment that the sound of the two revolver shots rang out +in the silence from the stillness of the cottage. And at that the +superintendent dashed forward, with a cry to the others, and began to +beat on the front door, and while his men responded with similar +knockings at the back he called loudly on Miss Pett to open. + +It was Mallalieu who at last flung the door open and confronted the +amazed and wondering group clustered thickly without. Every man there +shrank back affrighted at the desperation on the cornered man's face. +But Mallalieu did not shrink, and his hand was strangely steady as he +singled out his partner and shot him dead--and just as steady as he +stepped back and turned the revolver on himself. + +A moment later the superintendent snatched the bull's-eye lamp from his +man, and stepped over Mallalieu's dead body and went into the +cottage--to come back on the instant shivering and sick with shock at +the sight his startled eyes had met. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE BARRISTER'S FEE + + +Six months later, on a fine evening which came as the fitting close of a +perfect May afternoon, Brereton got out of a London express at Norcaster +and entered the little train which made its way by a branch line to the +very heart of the hills. He had never been back to these northern +regions since the tragedies of which he had been an unwilling witness, +and when the little train came to a point in its winding career amongst +the fell-sides and valleys from whence Highmarket could be seen, with +the tree-crowned Shawl above it, he resolutely turned his face and +looked in the opposite direction. He had no wish to see the town again; +he would have been glad to cut that chapter out of his book of memories. +Nevertheless, being so near to it, he could not avoid the recollections +which came crowding on him because of his knowledge that Highmarket's +old gables and red roofs were there, within a mile or two, had he cared +to look at them in the glint of the westering sun. No--he would never +willingly set foot in that town again!--there was nobody there now that +he had any desire to see. Bent, when the worst was over, and the strange +and sordid story had come to its end, had sold his business, quietly +married Lettie and taken her away for a long residence abroad, before +returning to settle down in London. Brereton had seen them for an hour +or two as they passed through London on their way to Paris and Italy, +and had been more than ever struck by young Mrs. Bent's philosophical +acceptance of facts. Her father, in Lettie's opinion, had always been a +deeply-wronged and much injured man, and it was his fate to have +suffered by his life-long connexion with that very wicked person, +Mallalieu: he had unfortunately paid the penalty at last--and there was +no more to be said about it. It might be well, thought Brereton, that +Bent's wife should be so calm and equable of temperament, for Bent, on +his return to England, meant to go in for politics, and Lettie would +doubtless make an ideal help-meet for a public man. She would face +situations with a cool head and a well-balanced judgment--and so, in +that respect, all was well. All the same, Brereton had a strong notion +that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bent would ever revisit Highmarket. + +As for himself, his thoughts went beyond Highmarket--to the place +amongst the hills which he had never seen. After Harborough's due +acquittal Brereton, having discharged his task, had gone back to London. +But ever since then he had kept up a regular correspondence with Avice, +and he knew all the details of the new life which had opened up for her +and her father with the coming of Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye. Her letters +were full of vivid descriptions of Wraye itself, and of the steward's +house in which she and Harborough--now appointed steward and agent to +his foster-brother's estate--had taken up their residence. She had a +gift of description, and Brereton had gained a good notion of Wraye from +her letters--an ancient and romantic place, set amongst the wild hills +of the Border, lonely amidst the moors, and commanding wide views of +river and sea. It was evidently the sort of place in which a lover of +open spaces, such as he knew Avice to be, could live an ideal life. But +Brereton had travelled down from London on purpose to ask her to leave +it. + +He had come at last on a sudden impulse, unknown to any one, and +therefore unexpected. Leaving his bag at the little station in the +valley at which he left the train just as the sun was setting behind the +surrounding hills, he walked quickly up a winding road between groves of +fir and pine towards the great grey house which he knew must be the +place into which the man from Australia had so recently come under +romantic circumstances. At the top of a low hill he paused and looked +about him, recognizing the scenes from the descriptions which Avice had +given him in her letters. There was Wraye itself--a big, old-world +place, set amongst trees at the top of a long park-like expanse of +falling ground; hills at the back, the sea in the far distance. The +ruins of an ancient tower stood near the house; still nearer to +Brereton, in an old-fashioned flower garden, formed by cutting out a +plateau on the hillside, stood a smaller house which he knew--also from +previous description--to be the steward's. He looked long at this before +he went nearer to it, hoping to catch the flutter of a gown amongst the +rose-trees already bright with bloom. And at last, passing through the +rose-trees he went to the stone porch and knocked--and was half-afraid +lest Avice herself should open the door to him. Instead, came; a +strapping, redcheeked North-country lass who stared at this evident +traveller from far-off parts before she found her tongue. No--Miss Avice +wasn't in, she was down the garden, at the far end. + +Brereton hastened down the garden; turned a corner; they met +unexpectedly. Equally unexpected, too, was the manner of their meeting. +For these two had been in love with each other from an early stage of +their acquaintance, and it seemed only natural now that when at last +they touched hands, hand should stay in hand. And when two young people +hold each other's hands, especially on a Springtide evening, and under +the most romantic circumstances and surroundings, lips are apt to say +more than tongues--which is as much as to say that without further +preface these two expressed all they had to say in their first kiss. + +Nevertheless, Brereton found his tongue at last. For when he had taken a +long and searching look at the girl and had found in her eyes what he +sought, he turned and looked at wood, hill, sky, and sea. + +"This is all as you described it" he said, with his arm round her, "and +yet the first real thing I have to say to you now that I am here is--to +ask you to leave it!" + +She smiled at that and again put her hand in his. + +"But--we shall come back to it now and then--together!" she said. + +THE END + + + + +ADVERTISEMENTS + + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + +Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + +Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to +ape kingship. + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + +Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, finds +himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with the +Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons. + +THE GODS OF MARS + +Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he does +battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose mighty tails +swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terrible +Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres. + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + +Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, +Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in the +union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah +Thoris. + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + +The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventures +of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian +Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP. PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +FLORENCE L. BARCLAY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER + +A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her +lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments +follow. + +THE UPAS TREE + +A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and his +wife. + +THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE + +The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages +vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of +abiding love. + +THE ROSARY + +The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all else +in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains life's +greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two real people +superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its exceeding reward. + +THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE + +The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a +husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who is +ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each other. When +he learns her real identity a situation of singular power is developed. + +THE BROKEN HALO + +The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in +childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years older +than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted. + +THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR + +The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, marries +wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the conditions of her +uncle's will, and how they finally come to love each other and are +reunited after experiences that soften and purify. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE MAN OF THE FOREST + +THE DESERT OF WHEAT + +THE U. P. TRAIL + +WILDFIRE + +THE BORDER LEGION + +THE RAINBOW TRAIL + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + +THE LONE STAR RANGER + +DESERT GOLD + +BETTY ZANE + + +LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS + +The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, with +Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. + + +ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS + + +KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE + +THE YOUNG LION HUNTER + +THE YOUNG FORESTER + +THE YOUNG PITCHER + +THE SHORT STOP + +THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S + +STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE RIVER'S END + +A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + +Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + +The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + +KAZAN + +The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate. + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + +The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman. + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + +The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battle +with Captain Plum. + +THE DANGER TRAIL + +A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman. + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + +The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + +THE GRIZZLY KING + +The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + +ISOBEL + +A love story of the Far North. + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + +A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + +The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + +Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + +BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + +A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made from +this book. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY + +GENE STRATTON-PORTER. + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +MICHAEL O'HALLORAN. Illustrated by Frances Rogers. + +Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern +Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes +the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and +onward. + +LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. + +This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story +is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it +is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs +of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and +the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood +and about whose family there hangs a mystery. + +THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. + +"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had +nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. +But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance +of the rarest idyllic quality. + +FRECKLES. Illustrated. + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant loveable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors. + +The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The +story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. +The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and +its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + +THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated. + +A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and +humor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + +The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the lamp +of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations to +final happiness. + +GREATHEART + +The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + +A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance." + +THE SWINDLER + +The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith. + +THE TIDAL WAVE + +Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false. + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + +A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Borough Treasurer, by Joseph Smith Fletcher + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOROUGH TREASURER *** + +***** This file should be named 20630-8.txt or 20630-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/3/20630/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Fletcher. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + hr.smler { width: 10%; } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .tbrk { margin-top: 2.75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + /* index*/ + + div.index ul { list-style: none; } + div.index ul li span.mono {font-family: monospace;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Borough Treasurer, by Joseph Smith Fletcher + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Borough Treasurer + +Author: Joseph Smith Fletcher + +Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20630] +[Last updated: May 17, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOROUGH TREASURER *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>THE BOROUGH<br />TREASURER</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>J. S. FLETCHER</h2> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4> + +<h3>THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER,<br />THE PARADISE MYSTERY, <span class="smcap">Etc.</span></h3> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h3>GROSSET & DUNLAP</h3> + +<h4>PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</h4> + +<p class="center">Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY<br /> +ALFRED A. KNOPF, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span></p> + +<p class="center">Published July, 1921<br />Second Printing, November, 1921</p> + +<p class="center">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="index"> +<ul> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Blackmail</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Crime—and Success</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Murder</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Pine Wood</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Cord</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Mayor</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Night Work</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Retained for the Defence</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Antecedents</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Hole in the Thatch</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Christopher Pett</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Parental Anxiety</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Anonymous Letter</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Sheet of Figures</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">One Thing Leads to Another</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Lonely Moor</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Medical Opinion</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Scrap Book</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Tall Man in Grey Clothes</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">At Bay</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Interrupted Flight</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Hand in the Darkness</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Comfortable Captivity</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Strict Business Lines</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">No Further Evidence</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Virtues of Suspicion</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Pages from the Past</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Without Thought of Consequences</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Cotherstone</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Barrister's Fee</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#ADVERTISEMENTS">ADVERTISEMENTS</a></span> </li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h1>THE BOROUGH TREASURER</h1> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>BLACKMAIL</h3> + +<p>Half way along the north side of the main street of Highmarket an +ancient stone gateway, imposing enough to suggest that it was originally +the entrance to some castellated mansion or manor house, gave access to +a square yard, flanked about by equally ancient buildings. What those +buildings had been used for in other days was not obvious to the casual +and careless observer, but to the least observant their present use was +obvious enough. Here were piles of timber from Norway; there were stacks +of slate from Wales; here was marble from Aberdeen, and there cement +from Portland: the old chambers of the grey buildings were filled to +overflowing with all the things that go towards making a +house—ironwork, zinc, lead, tiles, great coils of piping, stores of +domestic appliances. And on a shining brass plate, set into the wall, +just within the gateway, were deeply engraven the words: <i>Mallalieu and +Cotherstone, Builders and Contractors</i>.</p> + +<p>Whoever had walked into Mallalieu & Cotherstone's yard one October +afternoon a few years ago would have seen Mallalieu and Cotherstone in +person. The two partners had come out of their office and gone down the +yard to inspect half a dozen new carts, just finished, and now drawn up +in all the glory of fresh paint. Mallalieu had designed those carts +him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>self, and he was now pointing out their advantages to Cotherstone, +who was more concerned with the book-keeping and letter-writing side of +the business than with its actual work. He was a big, fleshy man, +Mallalieu, midway between fifty and sixty, of a large, solemn, +well-satisfied countenance, small, sly eyes, and an expression of steady +watchfulness; his attire was always of the eminently respectable sort, +his linen fresh and glossy; the thick gold chain across his ample front, +and the silk hat which he invariably wore, gave him an unmistakable air +of prosperity. He stood now, the silk hat cocked a little to one side, +one hand under the tail of his broadcloth coat, a pudgy finger of the +other pointing to some new feature of the mechanism of the new carts, +and he looked the personification of self-satisfaction and smug content.</p> + +<p>"All done in one action, d'ye see, Cotherstone?" he was saying. "One +pull at that pin releases the entire load. We'd really ought to have a +patent for that idea."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone went nearer the cart which they were examining. He was a +good deal of a contrast to his partner—a slightly built, wiry man, +nervous and quick of movement; although he was Mallalieu's junior he +looked older, and the thin hair at his temples was already whitening. +Mallalieu suggested solidity and almost bovine sleekness; in +Cotherstone, activity of speech and gesture was marked well-nigh to an +appearance of habitual anxiety. He stepped about the cart with the quick +action of an inquisitive bird or animal examining something which it has +never seen before.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>"Yes, yes, yes!" he answered. "Yes, that's a good idea. But if it's to +be patented, you know, we ought to see to it at once, before these carts +go into use."</p> + +<p>"Why, there's nobody in Highmarket like to rob us," observed Mallalieu, +good-humouredly. "You might consider about getting—what do they call +it?—provisional protection?—for it."</p> + +<p>"I'll look it up," responded Cotherstone. "It's worth that, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Do," said Mallalieu. He pulled out the big gold watch which hung from +the end of his cable chain and glanced at its jewelled dial. "Dear me!" +he exclaimed. "Four o'clock—I've a meeting in the Mayor's parlour at +ten past. But I'll look in again before going home."</p> + +<p>He hurried away towards the entrance gate, and Cotherstone, after +ruminative inspection of the new carts, glanced at some papers in his +hand and went over to a consignment of goods which required checking. He +was carefully ticking them off on a list when a clerk came down the +yard.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kitely called to pay his rent, sir," he announced. "He asked to see +you yourself."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five—six—seven," counted Cotherstone. "Take him into the +private office, Stoner," he answered. "I'll be there in a minute."</p> + +<p>He continued his checking until it was finished, entered the figures on +his list, and went briskly back to the counting-house near the gateway. +There he bustled into a room kept sacred to himself and Mallalieu, with +a cheery greeting to his visitor—an elderly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> man who had recently +rented from him a small house on the outskirts of the town.</p> + +<p>"Afternoon, Mr. Kitely," he said. "Glad to see you, sir—always glad to +see anybody with a bit of money, eh? Take a chair, sir—I hope you're +satisfied with the little place, Mr. Kitely?"</p> + +<p>The visitor took the offered elbow-chair, folded his hands on the top of +his old-fashioned walking-cane, and glanced at his landlord with a +half-humorous, half-quizzical expression. He was an elderly, +clean-shaven, grey-haired man, spare of figure, dressed in rusty black; +a wisp of white neckcloth at his throat gave him something of a clerical +appearance: Cotherstone, who knew next to nothing about him, except that +he was able to pay his rent and taxes, had already set him down as a +retired verger of some cathedral.</p> + +<p>"I should think you and Mr. Mallalieu are in no need of a bit of money, +Mr. Cotherstone," he said quietly. "Business seems to be good with you, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so-so," replied Cotherstone, off-handedly. "Naught to complain of, +of course. I'll give you a receipt, Mr. Kitely," he went on, seating +himself at his desk and taking up a book of forms. "Let's +see—twenty-five pounds a year is six pound five a quarter—there you +are, sir. Will you have a drop of whisky?"</p> + +<p>Kitely laid a handful of gold and silver on the desk, took the receipt, +and nodded his head, still watching Cotherstone with the same +half-humorous expression.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said. "I shouldn't mind."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>He watched Cotherstone produce a decanter and glasses, watched him fetch +fresh water from a filter in the corner of the room, watched him mix the +drinks, and took his own with no more than a polite nod of thanks. And +Cotherstone, murmuring an expression of good wishes, took a drink +himself, and sat down with his desk-chair turned towards his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Aught you'd like doing at the house, Mr. Kitely?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Kitely, "no, I can't say that there is."</p> + +<p>There was something odd, almost taciturn, in his manner, and Cotherstone +glanced at him a little wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"And how do you like Highmarket, now you've had a spell of it?" he +inquired. "Got settled down, I suppose, now?"</p> + +<p>"It's all that I expected," replied Kitely. "Quiet—peaceful. How do you +like it?"</p> + +<p>"Me!" exclaimed Cotherstone, surprised. "Me?—why, I've had—yes, +five-and-twenty years of it!"</p> + +<p>Kitely took another sip from his glass and set it down. He gave +Cotherstone a sharp look.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "yes—five-and-twenty years. You and your partner, both. +Yes—it'll be just about thirty years since I first saw you. But—you've +forgotten."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone, who had been lounging forward, warming his hands at the +fire, suddenly sat straight up in his chair. His face, always sharp +seemed to grow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> sharper as he turned to his visitor with a questioning +look.</p> + +<p>"Since—what?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Since I first saw you—and Mr. Mallalieu," replied Kitely. "As I say, +you've forgotten. But—I haven't."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone sat staring at his tenant for a full minute of +speechlessness. Then he slowly rose, walked over to the door, looked at +it to see that it was closed, and returning to the hearth, fixed his +eyes on Kitely.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Just what I say," answered Kitely, with a dry laugh. "It's thirty years +since I first saw you and Mallalieu. That's all."</p> + +<p>"Where?" demanded Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>Kitely motioned his landlord to sit down. And Cotherstone sat +down—trembling. His arm shook when Kitely laid a hand on it.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to know where?" he asked, bending close to Cotherstone. +"I'll tell you. In the dock—at Wilchester Assizes. Eh?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone made no answer. He had put the tips of his fingers together, +and now he was tapping the nails of one hand against the nails of the +other. And he stared and stared at the face so close to his own—as if +it had been the face of a man resurrected from the grave. Within him +there was a feeling of extraordinary physical sickness; it was quickly +followed by one of inertia, just as extraordinary. He felt as if he had +been mesmerized; as if he could neither move nor speak. And Kitely sat +there, a hand on his vic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>tim's arm, his face sinister and purposeful, +close to his.</p> + +<p>"Fact!" he murmured. "Absolute fact! I remember everything. It's come on +me bit by bit, though. I thought I knew you when I first came here—then +I had a feeling that I knew Mallalieu. And—in time—I +remembered—everything! Of course, when I saw you both—where I did see +you—you weren't Mallalieu & Cotherstone. You were——"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone suddenly made an effort, and shook off the thin fingers +which lay on his sleeve. His pale face grew crimson, and the veins +swelled on his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Confound you!" he said in a low, concentrated voice. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>Kitely shook his head and smiled quietly.</p> + +<p>"No need to grow warm," he answered. "Of course, it's excusable in you. +Who am I? Well, if you really want to know, I've been employed in the +police line for thirty-five years—until lately."</p> + +<p>"A detective!" exclaimed Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>"Not when I was present at Wilchester—that time," replied Kitely. "But +afterwards—in due course. Ah!—do you know, I often was curious as to +what became of you both! But I never dreamed of meeting you—here. Of +course, you came up North after you'd done your time? Changed your +names, started a new life—and here you are! Clever!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone was recovering his wits. He had got out of his chair by that +time, and had taken up a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> position on the hearthrug, his back to the +fire, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his visitor. He was +thinking—and for the moment he let Kitely talk.</p> + +<p>"Yes—clever!" continued Kitely in the same level, subdued tones, "very +clever indeed! I suppose you'd carefully planted some of that money +you—got hold of? Must have done, of course—you'd want money to start +this business. Well, you've done all this on the straight, anyhow. And +you've done well, too. Odd, isn't it, that I should come to live down +here, right away in the far North of England, and find you in such good +circumstances, too! Mr. Mallalieu, Mayor of Highmarket—his second term +of office! Mr. Cotherstone, Borough Treasurer of Highmarket—now in his +sixth year of that important post! I say again—you've both done +uncommonly well—uncommonly!"</p> + +<p>"Have you got any more to say?" asked Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>But Kitely evidently intended to say what he had to say in his own +fashion. He took no notice of Cotherstone's question, and presently, as +if he were amusing himself with reminiscences of a long dead past, he +spoke again, quietly and slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he murmured, "uncommonly well! And of course you'd have capital. +Put safely away, of course, while you were doing your time. Let's +see—it was a Building Society that you defrauded, wasn't it? Mallalieu +was treasurer, and you were secretary. Yes—I remember now. The amount +was two thous——"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone made a sudden exclamation and a sharp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> movement—both +checked by an equally sudden change of attitude and expression on the +part of the ex-detective. For Kitely sat straight up and looked the +junior partner squarely in the face.</p> + +<p>"Better not, Mr. Cotherstone!" he said, with a grin that showed his +yellow teeth. "You can't very well choke the life out of me in your own +office, can you? You couldn't hide my old carcase as easily as you and +Mallalieu hid those Building Society funds, you know. So—be calm! I'm a +reasonable man—and getting an old man."</p> + +<p>He accompanied the last words with a meaning smile, and Cotherstone took +a turn or two about the room, trying to steady himself. And Kitely +presently went on again, in the same monotonous tones:</p> + +<p>"Think it all out—by all means," he said. "I don't suppose there's a +soul in all England but myself knows your secret—and Mallalieu's. It +was sheer accident, of course, that I ever discovered it. But—I know! +Just consider what I do know. Consider, too, what you stand to lose. +There's Mallalieu, so much respected that he's Mayor of this ancient +borough for the second time. There's you—so much trusted that you've +been Borough Treasurer for years. You can't afford to let me tell the +Highmarket folk that you two are ex-convicts! Besides, in your case +there's another thing—there's your daughter."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone groaned—a deep, unmistakable groan of sheer torture. But +Kitely went on remorselessly.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter's just about to marry the most promising young man in the +place," he said. "A young fellow with a career before him. Do you think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +he'd marry her if he knew that her father—even if it is thirty years +ago—had been convicted of——"</p> + +<p>"Look you here!" interrupted Cotherstone, through set teeth. "I've had +enough! I've asked you once before if you'd any more to say—now I'll +put it in another fashion. For I see what you're after—and it's +blackmail! How much do you want? Come on—give it a name!"</p> + +<p>"Name nothing, till you've told Mallalieu," answered Kitely. "There's no +hurry. You two can't, and I shan't, run away. Time enough—I've the whip +hand. Tell your partner, the Mayor, all I've told you—then you can put +your heads together, and see what you're inclined to do. An annuity, +now?—that would suit me."</p> + +<p>"You haven't mentioned this to a soul?" asked Cotherstone anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" sneered Kitely. "D'ye think I'm a fool? Not likely. Well—now you +know. I'll come in here again tomorrow afternoon. And—you'll both be +here, and ready with a proposal."</p> + +<p>He picked up his glass, leisurely drank off its remaining contents, and +without a word of farewell opened the door and went quietly away.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>CRIME—AND SUCCESS</h3> + +<p>For some moments after Kitely had left him, Cotherstone stood vacantly +staring at the chair in which the blackmailer had sat. As yet he could +not realize things. He was only filled with a queer, vague amazement +about Kitely himself. He began to look back on his relations with +Kitely. They were recent—very recent, only of yesterday, as you might +say. Kitely had come to him, one day about three months previously, told +him that he had come to these parts for a bit of a holiday, taken a +fancy to a cottage which he, Cotherstone, had to let, and inquired its +rent. He had mentioned, casually, that he had just retired from +business, and wanted a quiet place wherein to spend the rest of his +days. He had taken the cottage, and given his landlord satisfactory +references as to his ability to pay the rent—and Cotherstone, always a +busy man, had thought no more about him. Certainly he had never +anticipated such an announcement as that which Kitely had just made to +him—never dreamed that Kitely had recognized him and Mallalieu as men +he had known thirty years ago.</p> + +<p>It had been Cotherstone's life-long endeavour to forget all about the +event of thirty years ago, and to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> a large extent he had succeeded in +dulling his memory. But Kitely had brought it all back—and now +everything was fresh to him. His brows knitted and his face grew dark as +he thought of one thing in his past of which Kitely had spoken so easily +and glibly—the dock. He saw himself in that dock again—and Mallalieu +standing by him. They were not called Mallalieu and Cotherstone then, of +course. He remembered what their real names were—he remembered, too, +that, until a few minutes before, he had certainly not repeated them, +even to himself, for many a long year. Oh, yes—he remembered +everything—he saw it all again. The case had excited plenty of +attention in Wilchester at the time—Wilchester, that for thirty years +had been so far away in thought and in actual distance that it might +have been some place in the Antipodes. It was not a nice case—even now, +looking back upon it from his present standpoint, it made him blush to +think of. Two better-class young working-men, charged with embezzling +the funds of a building society to which they had acted as treasurer and +secretary!—a bad case. The Court had thought it a bad case, and the +culprits had been sentenced to two years' imprisonment. And now +Cotherstone only remembered that imprisonment as one remembers a +particularly bad dream. Yes—it had been real.</p> + +<p>His eyes, moody and brooding, suddenly shifted their gaze from the easy +chair to his own hands—they were shaking. Mechanically he took up the +whisky decanter from his desk, and poured some of its contents into his +glass—the rim of the glass tinkled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> against the neck of the decanter. +Yes—that had been a shock, right enough, he muttered to himself, and +not all the whisky in the world would drive it out of him. But a +drink—neat and stiff—would pull his nerves up to pitch, and so he +drank, once, twice, and sat down with the glass in his hand—to think +still more.</p> + +<p>That old Kitely was shrewd—shrewd! He had at once hit on a fact which +those Wilchester folk of thirty years ago had never suspected. It had +been said at the time that the two offenders had lost the building +society's money in gambling and speculation, and there had been grounds +for such a belief. But that was not so. Most of the money had been +skilfully and carefully put where the two conspirators could lay hands +on it as soon as it was wanted, and when the term of imprisonment was +over they had nothing to do but take possession of it for their own +purposes. They had engineered everything very well—Cotherstone's +essentially constructive mind, regarding their doings from the vantage +ground of thirty years' difference, acknowledged that they had been +cute, crafty, and cautious to an admirable degree of perfection. Quietly +and unobtrusively they had completely disappeared from their own +district in the extreme South of England, when their punishment was +over. They had let it get abroad that they were going to another +continent, to retrieve the past and start a new life; it was even known +that they repaired to Liverpool, to take ship for America. But in +Liverpool they had shuffled off everything of the past—names, +relations, antecedents. There was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> reason why any one should watch +them out of the country, but they had adopted precautions against such +watching. They separated, disappeared, met again in the far North, in a +sparsely-populated, lonely country of hill and dale, led there by an +advertisement which they had seen in a local newspaper, met with by +sheer chance in a Liverpool hotel. There was an old-established business +to sell as a going concern, in the dale town of Highmarket: the two +ex-convicts bought it. From that time they were Anthony Mallalieu and +Milford Cotherstone, and the past was dead.</p> + +<p>During the thirty years in which that past had been dead, Cotherstone +had often heard men remark that this world of ours is a very small one, +and he had secretly laughed at them. To him and to his partner the world +had been wide and big enough. They were now four hundred miles away from +the scene of their crime. There was nothing whatever to bring Wilchester +people into that northern country, nothing to take Highmarket folk +anywhere near Wilchester. Neither he nor Mallalieu ever went far +afield—London they avoided with particular care, lest they should meet +any one there who had known them in the old days. They had stopped at +home, and minded their business, year in and year out. Naturally, they +had prospered. They had speedily become known as hard-working young men; +then as good employers of labour; finally as men of considerable +standing in a town of which there were only some five thousand +inhabitants. They had been invited to join in public matters—Mallalieu +had gone into the Town Council<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> first; Cotherstone had followed him +later. They had been as successful in administering the affairs of the +little town as in conducting their own, and in time both had attained +high honours: Mallalieu was now wearing the mayoral chain for the second +time; Cotherstone, as Borough Treasurer, had governed the financial +matters of Highmarket for several years. And as he sat there, staring at +the red embers of the office fire, he remembered that there were no two +men in the whole town who were more trusted and respected than he and +his partner—his partner in success ... and in crime.</p> + +<p>But that was not all. Both men had married within a few years of their +coming to Highmarket. They had married young women of good standing in +the neighbourhood; it was perhaps well, reflected Cotherstone, that +their wives were dead, and that Mallalieu had never been blessed with +children. But Cotherstone had a daughter, of whom he was as fond as he +was proud; for her he had toiled and contrived, always intending her to +be a rich woman. He had seen to it that she was well educated; he had +even allowed himself to be deprived of her company for two years while +she went to an expensive school, far away; since she had grown up, he +had surrounded her with every comfort. And now, as Kitely had reminded +him, she was engaged to be married to the most promising young man in +Highmarket, Windle Bent, a rich manufacturer, who had succeeded to and +greatly developed a fine business, who had already made his mark on the +Town Council, and was known to cherish Parliamentary ambitions. +Everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> knew that Bent had a big career before him; he had all the +necessary gifts; all the proper stuff in him for such a career. He would +succeed; he would probably win a title for himself—a baronetcy, perhaps +a peerage. This was just the marriage which Cotherstone desired for +Lettie; he would die more than happy if he could once hear her called +Your Ladyship. And now here was—this!</p> + +<p>Cotherstone sat there a long time, thinking, reflecting, reckoning up +things. The dusk had come; the darkness followed; he made no movement +towards the gas bracket. Nothing mattered but his trouble. That must be +dealt with. At all costs, Kitely's silence must be purchased—aye, even +if it cost him and Mallalieu one-half of what they had. And, of course, +Mallalieu must be told—at once.</p> + +<p>A tap of somebody's knuckles on the door of the private room roused him +at last, and he sprang up and seized a box of matches as he bade the +person without to enter. The clerk came in, carrying a sheaf of papers, +and Cotherstone bustled to the gas.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I've dropped off into a nod over this warm +fire, Stoner. What's that—letters?"</p> + +<p>"There's all these letters to sign, Mr. Cotherstone, and these three +contracts to go through," answered the clerk. "And there are those +specifications to examine, as well."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mallalieu'll have to see those," said Cotherstone. He lighted the +gas above his desk, put the decanter and the glasses aside, and took the +letters. "I'll sign these, anyhow," he said, "and then you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> can post 'em +as you go home. The other papers'll do tomorrow morning."</p> + +<p>The clerk stood slightly behind his master as Cotherstone signed one +letter after the other, glancing quickly through each. He was a young +man of twenty-two or three, with quick, observant manners, a keen eye, +and a not handsome face, and as he stood there the face was bent on +Cotherstone with a surmising look. Stoner had noticed his employer's +thoughtful attitude, the gloom in which Cotherstone sat, the decanter on +the table, the glass in Cotherstone's hand, and he knew that Cotherstone +was telling a fib when he said he had been asleep. He noticed, too, the +six sovereigns and the two or three silver coins lying on the desk, and +he wondered what had made his master so abstracted that he had forgotten +to pocket them. For he knew Cotherstone well, and Cotherstone was so +particular about money that he never allowed even a penny to lie out of +place.</p> + +<p>"There!" said Cotherstone, handing back the batch of letters. "You'll be +going now, I suppose. Put those in the post. I'm not going just yet, so +I'll lock up the office. Leave the outer door open—Mr. Mallalieu's +coming back."</p> + +<p>He pulled down the blinds of the private room when Stoner had gone, and +that done he fell to walking up and down, awaiting his partner. And +presently Mallalieu came, smoking a cigar, and evidently in as good +humour as usual.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're still here?" he said as he entered. "I—what's up?"</p> + +<p>He had come to a sudden halt close to his partner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> and he now stood +staring at him. And Cotherstone, glancing past Mallalieu's broad +shoulder at a mirror, saw that he himself had become startlingly pale +and haggard. He looked twenty years older than he had looked when he +shaved himself that morning.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you well?" demanded Mallalieu. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone made no answer. He walked past Mallalieu and looked into the +outer office. The clerk had gone, and the place was only half-lighted. +But Cotherstone closed the door with great care, and when he went back +to Mallalieu he sank his voice to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Bad news!" he said. "Bad—bad news!"</p> + +<p>"What about?" asked Mallalieu. "Private? Business?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone put his lips almost close to Mallalieu's ear.</p> + +<p>"That man Kitely—my new tenant," he whispered. "He's met us—you and +me—before!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu's rosy cheeks paled, and he turned sharply on his companion.</p> + +<p>"Met—us!" he exclaimed. "Him! Where?—when?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone got his lips still closer.</p> + +<p>"Wilchester!" he answered. "Thirty years ago. He—knows!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu dropped into the nearest chair: dropped as if he had been +shot. His face, full of colour from the keen air outside, became as pale +as his partner's; his jaw fell, his mouth opened; a strained look came +into his small eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>"Gad!" he muttered hoarsely. "You—you don't say so!"</p> + +<p>"It's a fact," answered Cotherstone. "He knows everything. He's an +ex-detective. He was there—that day."</p> + +<p>"Tracked us down?" asked Mallalieu. "That it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Cotherstone. "Sheer chance—pure accident. Recognized +us—after he came here. Aye—after all these years! Thirty years!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu's eyes, roving about the room, fell on the decanter. He pulled +himself out of his chair, found a clean glass, and took a stiff drink. +And his partner, watching him, saw that his hands, too, were shaking.</p> + +<p>"That's a facer!" said Mallalieu. His voice had grown stronger, and the +colour came back to his cheeks. "A real facer! As you say—after thirty +years! It's hard—it's blessed hard! And—what does he want? What's he +going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Wants to blackmail us, of course," replied Cotherstone, with a +mirthless laugh. "What else should he do? What could he do? Why, he +could tell all Highmarket who we are, and——"</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye!—but the thing is here," interrupted Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"Supposing we do square him?—is there any reliance to be placed on him +then? It 'ud only be the old game—he'd only want more."</p> + +<p>"He said an annuity," remarked Cotherstone, thoughtfully. "And he added +significantly, that he was getting an old man."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>"How old?" demanded Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"Between sixty and seventy," said Cotherstone. "I'm under the impression +that he could be squared, could be satisfied. He'll have to be! We can't +let it get out—I can't, any way. There's my daughter to think of."</p> + +<p>"D'ye think I'd let it get out?" asked Mallalieu. "No!—all I'm thinking +of is if we really can silence him. I've heard of cases where a man's +paid blackmail for years and years, and been no better for it in the +end."</p> + +<p>"Well—he's coming here tomorrow afternoon some time," said Cotherstone. +"We'd better see him—together. After all, a hundred a year—a couple of +hundred a year—'ud be better than—exposure."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu drank off his whisky and pushed the glass aside.</p> + +<p>"I'll consider it," he remarked. "What's certain sure is that he'll have +to be quietened. I must go—I've an appointment. Are you coming out?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," replied Cotherstone. "I've all these papers to go through. +Well, think it well over. He's a man to be feared."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu made no answer. He, like Kitely, went off without a word of +farewell, and Cotherstone was once more left alone.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>MURDER</h3> + +<p>When Mallalieu had gone, Cotherstone gathered up the papers which his +clerk had brought in, and sitting down at his desk tried to give his +attention to them. The effort was not altogether a success. He had hoped +that the sharing of the bad news with his partner would bring some +relief to him, but his anxieties were still there. He was always seeing +that queer, sinister look in Kitely's knowing eyes: it suggested that as +long as Kitely lived there would be no safety. Even if Kitely kept his +word, kept any compact made with him, he would always have the two +partners under his thumb. And for thirty years Cotherstone had been +under no man's thumb, and the fear of having a master was hateful to +him. He heartily wished that Kitely was dead—dead and buried, and his +secret with him; he wished that it had been anywise possible to have +crushed the life out of him where he sat in that easy chair as soon as +he had shown himself the reptile that he was. A man might kill any +poisonous insect, any noxious reptile at pleasure—why not a human +blood-sucker like that?</p> + +<p>He sat there a long time, striving to give his attention to his papers, +and making a poor show of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> it. The figures danced about before him; he +could make neither head nor tail of the technicalities in the +specifications and estimates; every now and then fits of abstraction +came over him, and he sat drumming the tips of his fingers on his +blotting-pad, staring vacantly at the shadows in the far depths of the +room, and always thinking—thinking of the terrible danger of +revelation. And always, as an under-current, he was saying that for +himself he cared naught—Kitely could do what he liked, or would have +done what he liked, had there only been himself to think for. +But—Lettie! All his life was now centred in her, and in her happiness, +and Lettie's happiness, he knew, was centred in the man she was going to +marry. And Cotherstone, though he believed that he knew men pretty well, +was not sure that he knew Windle Bent sufficiently to feel sure that he +would endure a stiff test. Bent was ambitious—he was resolved on a +career. Was he the sort of man to stand the knowledge which Kitely might +give him? For there was always the risk that whatever he and Mallalieu +might do, Kitely, while there was breath in him, might split.</p> + +<p>A sudden ringing at the bell of the telephone in the outer office made +Cotherstone jump in his chair as if the arresting hand of justice had +suddenly been laid on him. In spite of himself he rose trembling, and +there were beads of perspiration on his forehead as he walked across the +room.</p> + +<p>"Nerves!" he muttered to himself. "I must be in a queer way to be taken +like that. It won't do!—especially<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> at this turn. What is it?" he +demanded, going to the telephone. "Who is that?"</p> + +<p>His daughter's voice, surprised and admonitory, came to him along the +wire.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, father?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Don't you +remember you asked Windle, and his friend Mr. Brereton, to supper at +eight o'clock. It's a quarter to eight now. Do come home!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone let out an exclamation which signified annoyance. The event +of the late afternoon had completely driven it out of his recollection +that Windle Bent had an old school-friend, a young barrister from +London, staying with him, and that both had been asked to supper that +evening at Cotherstone's house. But Cotherstone's annoyance was not +because of his own forgetfulness, but because his present abstraction +made him dislike the notion of company.</p> + +<p>"I'd forgotten—for the moment," he called. "I've been very busy. All +right, Lettie—I'm coming on at once. Shan't be long."</p> + +<p>But when he had left the telephone he made no haste. He lingered by his +desk; he was slow in turning out the gas; slow in quitting and locking +up his office; he went slowly away through the town. Nothing could have +been further from his wishes than a desire to entertain company that +night—and especially a stranger. His footsteps dragged as he passed +through the market-place and turned into the outskirts beyond.</p> + +<p>Some years previously to this, when they had both married and made +money, the two partners had built<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> new houses for themselves. Outside +Highmarket, on its western boundary, rose a long, low hill called +Highmarket Shawl; the slope which overhung the town was thickly covered +with fir and pine, amidst which great masses of limestone crag jutted +out here and there. At the foot of this hill, certain plots of building +land had been sold, and Mallalieu had bought one and Cotherstone +another, and on these they had erected two solid stone houses, fitted up +with all the latest improvements known to the building trade. Each was +proud of his house; each delighted in welcoming friends and +acquaintances there—this was the first night Cotherstone could remember +on which it was hateful to him to cross his own threshold. The lighted +windows, the smell of good things cooked for supper, brought him no +sense of satisfaction; he had to make a distinct effort to enter and to +present a face of welcome to his two guests, who were already there, +awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't get in earlier," he said, replying to Lettie's half-anxious, +half-playful scoldings. "There was some awkward business turned up this +evening—and as it is, I shall have to run away for an hour after +supper—can't be helped. How do you do, sir?" he went on, giving his +hand to the stranger. "Glad to see you in these parts—you'll find this +a cold climate after London, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>He took a careful look at Bent's friend as they all sat down to +supper—out of sheer habit of inspecting any man who was new to him. And +after a glance or two he said to himself that this young limb of the law +was a sharp chap—a keen-eyed, alert, no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ticeable fellow, whose every +action and tone denoted great mental activity. He was sharper than Bent, +said Cotherstone, and in his opinion, that was saying a good deal. +Bent's ability was on the surface; he was an excellent specimen of the +business man of action, who had ideas out of the common but was not so +much given to deep and quiet thinking as to prompt doing of things +quickly decided on. He glanced from one to the other, mentally comparing +them. Bent was a tall, handsome man, blonde, blue-eyed, ready of word +and laugh; Brereton, a medium-sized, compact fellow, dark of hair and +eye, with an olive complexion that almost suggested foreign origin: the +sort, decided Cotherstone, that thought a lot and said little. And +forcing himself to talk he tried to draw the stranger out, watching him, +too, to see if he admired Lettie. For it was one of Cotherstone's +greatest joys in life to bring folk to his house and watch the effect +which his pretty daughter had on them, and he was rewarded now in seeing +that the young man from London evidently applauded his friend's choice +and paid polite tribute to Lettie's charm.</p> + +<p>"And what might you have been doing with Mr. Brereton since he got down +yesterday?" asked Cotherstone. "Showing him round, of course?"</p> + +<p>"I've been tormenting him chiefly with family history," answered Bent, +with a laughing glance at his sweetheart. "You didn't know I was raking +up everything I could get hold of about my forbears, did you? Oh, I've +been busy at that innocent amusement for a month past—old Kitely put me up to it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>Cotherstone could barely repress an inclination to start in his chair; +he himself was not sure that he did not show undue surprise.</p> + +<p>"What!" he exclaimed. "Kitely? My tenant? What does he know about your +family? A stranger!"</p> + +<p>"Much more than I do," replied Bent. "The old chap's nothing to do, you +know, and since he took up his abode here he's been spending all his +time digging up local records—he's a good bit of an antiquary, and that +sort of thing. The Town Clerk tells me Kitely's been through nearly all +the old town documents—chests full of them! And Kitely told me one day +that if I liked he'd trace our pedigree back to I don't know when, and +as he seemed keen, I told him to go ahead. He's found out a lot of +interesting things in the borough records that I never heard of."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone had kept his eyes on his plate while Bent was talking; he +spoke now without looking up.</p> + +<p>"Oh?" he said, trying to speak unconcernedly. "Ah!—then you'll have +been seeing a good deal of Kitely lately?"</p> + +<p>"Not so much," replied Bent. "He's brought me the result of his work now +and then—things he's copied out of old registers, and so on."</p> + +<p>"And what good might it all amount to?" asked Cotherstone, more for the +sake of talking than for any interest he felt. "Will it come to aught?"</p> + +<p>"Bent wants to trace his family history back to the Conquest," observed +Brereton, slyly. "He thinks the original Bent came over with the +Conqueror.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> But his old man hasn't got beyond the Tudor period yet."</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" said Bent. "There were Bents in Highmarket in Henry the +Seventh's time, anyhow. And if one has a pedigree, why not have it +properly searched out? He's a keen old hand at that sort of thing, +Kitely. The Town Clerk says he can read some of our borough charters of +six hundred years ago as if they were newspaper articles."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone made no remark on that. He was thinking. So Kitely was in +close communication with Bent, was he?—constantly seeing him, being +employed by him? Well, that cut two ways. It showed that up to now he +had taken no advantage of his secret knowledge and might therefore be +considered as likely to play straight if he were squared by the two +partners. But it also proved that Bent would probably believe anything +that Kitely might tell him. Certainly Kitely must be dealt with at once. +He knew too much, and was obviously too clever, to be allowed to go +about unfettered. Cost what it might, he must be attached to the +Mallalieu-Cotherstone interest. And what Cotherstone was concentrating +on just then, as he ate and drank, was—how to make that attachment in +such a fashion that Kitely would have no option but to keep silence. If +only he and Mallalieu could get a hold on Kitely, such as that which he +had on them——</p> + +<p>"Well," he said as supper came to an end, "I'm sorry, but I'm forced to +leave you gentlemen for an hour, at any rate—can't be helped. Lettie, +you must try to amuse 'em until I come back. Sing Mr. Brere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>ton some of +your new songs. Bent—you know where the whisky and the cigars are—help +yourselves—make yourselves at home."</p> + +<p>"You won't be more than an hour, father?" asked Lettie.</p> + +<p>"An hour'll finish what I've got to do," replied Cotherstone, "maybe +less—I'll be as quick as I can, anyway, my lass."</p> + +<p>He hurried off without further ceremony; a moment later and he had +exchanged the warmth and brightness of his comfortable dining-room for +the chill night and the darkness. And as he turned out of his garden he +was thinking still further and harder. So Windle Bent was one of those +chaps who have what folk call family pride, was he? Actually proud of +the fact that he had a pedigree, and could say who his grandfather and +grandmother were?—things on which most people were as hazy as they were +indifferent. In that case, if he was really family-proud, all the more +reason why Kitely should be made to keep his tongue still. For if Windle +Bent was going on the game of making out that he was a man of family, he +certainly would not relish the prospect of uniting his ancient blood +with that of a man who had seen the inside of a prison. +Kitely!—promptly and definitely—and for <i>good</i>!—that was the ticket.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone went off into the shadows of the night—and a good hour had +passed when he returned to his house. It was then ten o'clock; he +afterwards remembered that he glanced at the old grandfather clock in +his hall when he let himself in. All was very quiet in there; he opened +the drawing-room door to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> find the two young men and Lettie sitting over +a bright fire, and Brereton evidently telling the other two some story, +which he was just bringing to a conclusion.</p> + +<p>" ... for it's a fact, in criminal practice," Brereton was saying, "that +there are no end of undiscovered crimes—there are any amount of guilty +men going about free as the air, and——"</p> + +<p>"Hope you've been enjoying yourselves," said Cotherstone, going forward +to the group. "I've been as quick as I could."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brereton has been telling us most interesting stories about +criminals," said Lettie. "Facts—much stranger than fiction!"</p> + +<p>"Then I'm sure it's time he'd something to refresh himself with," said +Cotherstone hospitably. "Come away, gentlemen, and we'll see if we can't +find a drop to drink and a cigar to smoke."</p> + +<p>He led the way to the dining-room and busied himself in bringing out +some boxes of cigars from a cupboard while Lettie produced decanters and +glasses from the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"So you're interested in criminal matters, sir?" observed Cotherstone as +he offered Brereton a cigar. "Going in for that line, eh?"</p> + +<p>"What practice I've had has been in that line," answered Brereton, with +a quiet laugh. "One sort of gets pitchforked into these things, you +know, so——"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" exclaimed Lettie, who was just then handing the young +barrister a tumbler of whisky and soda which Bent had mixed for him. +"Some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>body running hurriedly up the drive—as if something had happened! +Surely you're not going to be fetched out again, father?"</p> + +<p>A loud ringing of the bell prefaced the entrance of some visitor, whose +voice was heard in eager conversation with a parlourmaid in the hall.</p> + +<p>"That's your neighbour—Mr. Garthwaite," said Bent.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone set down the cigars and opened the dining-room door. A +youngish, fresh-coloured man, who looked upset and startled, came out of +the hall, glancing round him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to intrude, Mr. Cotherstone," he said. "I say!—that old +gentleman you let the cottage to—Kitely, you know."</p> + +<p>"What of him?" demanded Cotherstone sharply.</p> + +<p>"He's lying there in the coppice above your house—I stumbled over him +coming through there just now," replied Garthwaite. "He—don't be +frightened, Miss Cotherstone—he's—well, there's no doubt of it—he's +dead! And——"</p> + +<p>"And—what?" asked Cotherstone. "What, man? Out with it!"</p> + +<p>"And I should say, murdered!" said Garthwaite. "I—yes, I just saw +enough to say that. Murdered—without a doubt!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE PINE WOOD</h3> + +<p>Brereton, standing back in the room, the cigar which Cotherstone had +just given him unlighted in one hand, the glass which Lettie had +presented to him in the other, was keenly watching the man who had just +spoken and the man to whom he spoke. But all his attention was quickly +concentrated on Cotherstone. For despite a strong effort to control +himself, Cotherstone swayed a little, and instinctively put out a hand +and clutched Bent's arm. He paled, too—the sudden spasm of pallor was +almost instantly succeeded by a quick flush of colour. He made another +effort—and tried to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, man!" he said thickly and hoarsely. "Murder? Who should want +to kill an old chap like that? It's—here, give me a drink, one of +you—that's—a bit startling!"</p> + +<p>Bent seized a tumbler which he himself had just mixed, and Cotherstone +gulped off half its contents. He looked round apologetically.</p> + +<p>"I—I think I'm not as strong as I was," he muttered. "Overwork, +likely—I've been a bit shaky of late. A shock like that——"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said Garthwaite, who looked sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>prised at the effect of his +news. "I ought to have known better. But you see, yours is the nearest +house——"</p> + +<p>"Quite right, my lad, quite right," exclaimed Cotherstone. "You did the +right thing. Here!—we'd better go up. Have you called the police?"</p> + +<p>"I sent the man from the cottage at the foot of your garden," answered +Garthwaite. "He was just locking up as I passed, so I told him, and sent +him off."</p> + +<p>"We'll go," said Cotherstone. He looked round at his guests. "You'll +come?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't you go, father," urged Lettie, "if you're not feeling well."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," insisted Cotherstone. "A mere bit of weakness—that's +all. Now that I know what's to be faced—" he twisted suddenly on +Garthwaite—"what makes you think it's murder?" he demanded. "Murder! +That's a big word."</p> + +<p>Garthwaite glanced at Lettie, who was whispering to Bent, and shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"Tell you when we get outside," he said. "I don't want to frighten your +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then," said Cotherstone. He hurried into the hall and snatched +up an overcoat. "Fetch me that lantern out of the kitchen," he called to +the parlourmaid. "Light it! Don't you be afraid, Lettie," he went on, +turning to his daughter. "There's naught to be afraid of—now. You +gentlemen coming with us?"</p> + +<p>Bent and Brereton had already got into their coats: when the maid came +with the lantern, all four men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> went out. And as soon as they were in +the garden Cotherstone turned on Garthwaite.</p> + +<p>"How do you know he's murdered?" he asked. "How could you tell?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you all about it, now we're outside," answered Garthwaite. +"I'd been over to Spennigarth, to see Hollings. I came back over the +Shawl, and made a short cut through the wood. And I struck my foot +against something—something soft, you know—I don't like thinking of +that! And so I struck a match, and looked, and saw this old +fellow—don't like thinking of that, either. He was laid there, a few +yards out of the path that runs across the Shawl at that point. I saw he +was dead—and as for his being murdered, well, all I can say is, he's +been strangled! That's flat."</p> + +<p>"Strangled!" exclaimed Bent.</p> + +<p>"Aye, without doubt," replied Garthwaite. "There's a bit of rope round +his neck that tight that I couldn't put my little finger between it and +him! But you'll see for yourselves—it's not far up the Shawl. You never +heard anything, Mr. Cotherstone?"</p> + +<p>"No, we heard naught," answered Cotherstone. "If it's as you say, +there'd be naught to hear."</p> + +<p>He had led them out of his grounds by a side-gate, and they were now in +the thick of the firs and pines which grew along the steep, somewhat +rugged slope of the Shawl. He put the lantern into Garthwaite's hand.</p> + +<p>"Here—you show the way," he said. "I don't know where it is, of course."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>"You were going straight to it," remarked Garthwaite. He turned to +Brereton, who was walking at his side. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?" he +asked. "I heard that Mr. Bent had a lawyer friend stopping with him just +now—we hear all the bits of news in a little place like Highmarket. +Well—you'll understand, likely—it hadn't been long done!"</p> + +<p>"You noticed that?" said Brereton.</p> + +<p>"I touched him," replied Garthwaite. "His hand and cheek were—just +warm. He couldn't have been dead so very long—as I judged matters. +And—here he is!"</p> + +<p>He twisted sharply round the corner of one of the great masses of +limestone which cropped out amongst the trees, and turned the light of +the lantern on the dead man.</p> + +<p>"There!" he said in a hushed voice. "There!"</p> + +<p>The four men came to a halt, each gazing steadily at the sight they had +come to see. It needed no more than a glance to assure each that he was +looking on death: there was that in Kitely's attitude which forbade any +other possibility.</p> + +<p>"He's just as I found him," whispered Garthwaite. "I came round this +rock from there, d'ye see, and my foot knocked against his shoulder. +But, you know, he's been dragged here! Look at that!"</p> + +<p>Brereton, after a glance at the body, had looked round at its +surroundings. The wood thereabouts was carpeted—thickly carpeted—with +pine needles; they lay several inches thick beneath the trunks of the +trees; they stretched right up to the edge of the rock. And now, as +Garthwaite turned the lan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>tern, they saw that on this soft carpet there +was a great slur—the murderer had evidently dragged his victim some +yards across the pine needles before depositing him behind the rock. And +at the end of this mark there were plain traces of a struggle—the soft, +easily yielding stuff was disturbed, kicked about, upheaved, but as +Brereton at once recognized, it was impossible to trace footprints in +it.</p> + +<p>"That's where it must have been," said Garthwaite. "You see there's a +bit of a path there. The old man must have been walking along that path, +and whoever did it must have sprung out on him there—where all those +marks are—and when he'd strangled him dragged him here. That's how I +figure it, Mr. Cotherstone."</p> + +<p>Lights were coming up through the wood beneath them, glancing from point +to point amongst the trees. Then followed a murmur of voices, and three +or four men came into view—policemen, carrying their lamps, the man +whom Garthwaite had sent into the town, and a medical man who acted as +police surgeon.</p> + +<p>"Here!" said Bent, as the newcomers advanced and halted irresolutely. +"This way, doctor—there's work for you here—of a sort, anyway. Of +course, he's dead?"</p> + +<p>The doctor had gone forward as soon as he caught sight of the body, and +he dropped on his knees at its side while the others gathered round. In +the added light everybody now saw things more clearly. Kitely lay in a +heap—just as a man would lie who had been unceremoniously thrown down. +But Brereton's sharp eyes saw at once that after he had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> flung at +the foot of the mass of rock some hand had disarranged his clothing. His +overcoat and under coat had been torn open, hastily, if not with +absolute violence; the lining of one trousers pocket was pulled out; +there were evidences that his waistcoat had been unbuttoned and its +inside searched: everything seemed to indicate that the murderer had +also been a robber.</p> + +<p>"He's not been dead very long," said the doctor, looking up. "Certainly +not more than three-quarters of an hour. Strangled? Yes!—and by +somebody who has more than ordinary knowledge of how quickly a man may +be killed in that way! Look how this cord is tied—no amateur did that."</p> + +<p>He turned back the neckcloth from the dead man's throat, and showed the +others how the cord had been slipped round the neck in a running-knot +and fastened tightly with a cunning twist.</p> + +<p>"Whoever did this had done the same thing before—probably more than +once," he continued. "No man with that cord round his neck, tightly +knotted like that, would have a chance—however free his hands might be. +He'd be dead before he could struggle. Does no one know anything about +this? No more than that?" he went on, when he had heard what Garthwaite +could tell. "Well, this is murder, anyway! Are there no signs of +anything about here?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think his clothing looks as if he had been robbed?" said +Brereton, pointing to the obvious signs. "That should be noted before +he's moved."</p> + +<p>"I've noted that, sir," said the police-sergeant, who had bent over the +body while the doctor was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> examining it. "There's one of his pockets +turned inside out, and all his clothing's been torn open. Robbery, of +course—that's what it's been—murder for the sake of robbery!"</p> + +<p>One of the policemen, having satisfied his curiosity stepped back and +began to search the surroundings with the aid of his lamp. He suddenly +uttered a sharp exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Here's something!" he said, stooping to the foot of a pine-tree and +picking up a dark object. "An old pocket-book—nothing in it, though."</p> + +<p>"That was his," remarked Cotherstone. "I've seen it before. He used to +carry it in an inner pocket. Empty, do you say?—no papers?"</p> + +<p>"Not a scrap of anything," answered the policeman, handing the book over +to his sergeant, and proceeding to search further. "We'd best to see if +there's any footprints about."</p> + +<p>"You'd better examine that path, then," said Garthwaite. "You'll find no +prints on all this pine-needle stuff—naught to go by, anyway—it's too +thick and soft. But he must have come along that path, one way or +another—I've met him walking in here of an evening, more than once."</p> + +<p>The doctor, who had exchanged a word or two with the sergeant, turned to +Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't he a tenant of yours?" he asked. "Had the cottage at the top of +the Shawl here. Well, we'd better have the body removed there, and some +one should go up and warn his family."</p> + +<p>"There's no family," answered Cotherstone. "He'd naught but a +housekeeper—Miss Pett. She's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> an elderly woman—and not likely to be +startled, from what I've seen of her."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said Bent. "I know the housekeeper." He touched Brereton's +elbow, and led him away amongst the trees and up the wood. "This is a +strange affair!" he continued when they were clear of the others. "Did +you hear what Dr. Rockcliffe said?—that whoever had done it was +familiar with that sort of thing!"</p> + +<p>"I saw for myself," replied Brereton. "I noticed that cord, and the knot +on it, at once. A man whose neck was tied up like that could be thrown +down, thrown anywhere, left to stand up, if you like, and he'd be +literally helpless, even if, as the doctor said, he had the use of his +hands. He'd be unconscious almost at once—dead very soon afterwards. +Murder?—I should think so!—and a particularly brutal and determined +one. Bent!—whoever killed that poor old fellow was a man of great +strength and of—knowledge! Knowledge, mind you!—he knew the trick. You +haven't any doubtful character in Highmarket who has ever lived in +India, have you?"</p> + +<p>"India! Why India?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>"Because I should say that the man who did that job has learned some of +the Indian tricks with cords and knots," answered Brereton. "That +murder's suggestive of Thuggeeism in some respects. That the cottage?" +he went on, pointing to a dim light ahead of him. "This housekeeper, +now?—is she the sort who'll take it quietly?"</p> + +<p>"She's as queer a character as the old fellow himself was," replied +Bent, as they cleared the wood and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> entered a hedge-enclosed garden at +the end of which stood an old-fashioned cottage. "I've talked to her now +and then when calling here—I should say she's a woman of nerve."</p> + +<p>Brereton looked narrowly at Miss Pett when she opened the door. She +carried a tallow candle in one hand and held it high above her head to +throw a light on the callers; its dim rays fell more on herself than on +them. A tall, gaunt, elderly woman, almost fleshless of face, and with a +skin the colour of old parchment, out of which shone a pair of bright +black eyes; the oddity of her appearance was heightened by her +head-dress—a glaring red and yellow handkerchief tightly folded in such +a fashion as to cover any vestige of hair. Her arms, bare to the elbow, +and her hands were as gaunt as her face, but Brereton was quick to +recognize the suggestion of physical strength in the muscles and sinews +under the parchment-like skin. A strange, odd-looking woman altogether, +he thought, and not improved by the fact that she appeared to have lost +all her teeth, and that a long, sharp nose and prominent chin almost met +before her sunken lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Bent?" she said, before either of the young +men could speak. "Mr. Kitely's gone out for his regular bedtime +constitution—he will have that, wet or fine, every night. But he's much +longer than usual, and——"</p> + +<p>She stopped suddenly, seeing some news in Bent's face, and her own +contracted to a questioning look.</p> + +<p>"Is there aught amiss?" she asked. "Has something happened him? Aught +that's serious? You needn't be afraid to speak, Mr. Bent—there's +naught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> can upset or frighten me, let me tell you—I'm past all that!"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid Mr. Kitely's past everything, too, then," said Bent. He +looked steadily at her for a moment, and seeing that she understood, +went on. "They're bringing him up, Miss Pett—you'd better make ready. +You won't be alarmed—I don't think there's any doubt that he's been +murdered."</p> + +<p>The woman gazed silently at her visitors; then, nodding her turbaned +head, she drew back into the cottage.</p> + +<p>"It's what I expected," she muttered. "I warned him—more than once. +Well—let them bring him, then."</p> + +<p>She vanished into a side-room, and Bent and Brereton went down the +garden and met the others, carrying the dead man. Cotherstone followed +behind the police, and as he approached Bent he pulled him by the sleeve +and drew him aside.</p> + +<p>"There's a clue!" he whispered. "A clue, d'ye hear—a strong clue!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE CORD</h3> + +<p>Ever since they had left the house at the foot of the pine wood, +Brereton had been conscious of a curious psychological atmosphere, +centring in Cotherstone. It had grown stronger as events had developed; +it was still stronger now as they stood outside the dead man's cottage, +the light from the open door and the white-curtained window falling on +Cotherstone's excited face. Cotherstone, it seemed to Brereton, was +unduly eager about something—he might almost be said to be elated. All +of his behaviour was odd. He had certainly been shocked when Garthwaite +burst in with the news—but this shock did not seem to be of the +ordinary sort. He had looked like fainting—but when he recovered +himself his whole attitude (so, at any rate, it had seemed to Brereton) +had been that of a man who has just undergone a great relief. To put the +whole thing into a narrow compass, it seemed as if Cotherstone appeared +to be positively pleased to hear—and to find beyond doubt—that Kitely +was dead. And now, as he stood glancing from one young man to the other, +his eyes glittered as if he were absolutely enjoying the affair: he +reminded Brereton of that type of theatre-goer who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> will insist on +pointing out stage effects as they occur before his eyes, forcing his +own appreciation of them upon fellow-watchers whose eyes are as keen as +his own.</p> + +<p>"A strong clue!" repeated Cotherstone, and said it yet again. "A good +'un! And if it's right, it'll clear matters up."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Bent. He, too, seemed to be conscious that there was +something odd about his prospective father-in-law, and he was gazing +speculatively at him as if in wonder. "What sort of a clue?"</p> + +<p>"It's a wonder it didn't strike me—and you, too—at first," said +Cotherstone, with a queer sound that was half a chuckle. "But as long as +it's struck somebody, eh? One's as good as another. You can't think of +what it is, now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you're thinking about," replied Bent, half +impatiently.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone gave vent to an unmistakable chuckle at that, and he +motioned them to follow him into the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Come and see for yourselves, then," he said. "You'll spot it. But, +anyway—Mr. Brereton, being a stranger, can't be expected to."</p> + +<p>The three men walked into the living-room of the cottage—a good-sized, +open-raftered, old-fashioned place, wherein burnt a bright fire, at +either side of which stood two comfortable armchairs. Before one of +these chairs, their toes pointing upwards against the fender, were a +pair of slippers; on a table close by stood an old lead tobacco-box, +flanked by a church-warden pipe, a spirit decanter, a glass, and a +plate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> on which were set out sugar and lemon—these Brereton took to be +indicative that Kitely, his evening constitutional over, was in the +habit of taking a quiet pipe and a glass of something warm before going +to bed. And looking round still further he became aware of an open +door—the door into which Miss Pett had withdrawn—and of a bed within +on which Kitely now lay, with Dr. Rockcliffe and the police-sergeant +bending over him. The other policemen stood by the table in the +living-room, and one of them—the man who had picked up the +pocket-book—whispered audibly to Cotherstone as he and his companions +entered.</p> + +<p>"The doctor's taking it off him," he said, with a meaning nod of his +head. "I'll lay aught it's as I say, Mr. Cotherstone."</p> + +<p>"Looks like it," agreed Cotherstone, rubbing his hands. "It certainly +looks like it, George. Sharp of you to notice it, though."</p> + +<p>Brereton took this conversation to refer to the mysterious clue, and his +suspicion was confirmed a moment later. The doctor and the sergeant came +into the living-room, the doctor carrying something in his hand which he +laid down on the centre table in full view of all of them. And Brereton +saw then that he had removed from the dead man's neck the length of grey +cord with which he had been strangled.</p> + +<p>There was something exceedingly sinister in the mere placing of that +cord before the eyes of these living men. It had wrought the death of +another man, who, an hour before, had been as full of vigorous life as +themselves; some man, equally vigorous, had used it as the instrument of +a foul murder. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>significant in itself, a mere piece of strongly spun +and twisted hemp, it was yet singularly suggestive—one man, at any +rate, amongst those who stood looking at it, was reminded by it that the +murderer who had used it must even now have the fear of another and a +stronger cord before him.</p> + +<p>"Find who that cord belongs to, and you may get at something," suddenly +observed the doctor, glancing at the policemen. "You say it's a +butcher's cord?"</p> + +<p>The man who had just whispered to Cotherstone nodded.</p> + +<p>"It's a pig-killer's cord, sir," he answered. "It's what a pig-killer +fastens the pig down with—on the cratch."</p> + +<p>"A cratch?—what's that?" asked Brereton, who had gone close to the +table to examine the cord, and had seen that, though slender, it was +exceedingly strong, and of closely wrought fibre. "Is it a sort of +hurdle?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, sir," assented the policeman. "It is a sort of hurdle—on +four legs. They lay the pig on it, don't you see, and tie it down with a +cord of this sort—this cord's been used for that—it's greasy with long +use."</p> + +<p>"And it has been cut off a longer piece, of course," said the doctor. +"These cords are of considerable length, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Good length, sir—there's a regular coil, like," said the man. He, too, +bent down and looked at the length before him. "This has been cut off +what you might call recent," he went on, pointing to one end.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +"And cut off with a sharp knife, too."</p> + +<p>The police sergeant glanced at the doctor as if asking advice on the +subject of putting his thoughts into words.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the doctor, with a nod of assent. "Of course, you've got +something in your mind, sergeant?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there is a man who kills pigs, and has such cords as that, lives +close by, doctor," he answered. "You know who I mean—the man they call +Gentleman Jack."</p> + +<p>"You mean Harborough," said the doctor. "Well—you'd better ask him if +he knows anything. Somebody might have stolen one of his cords. But +there are other pig-killers in the town, of course."</p> + +<p>"Not on this side the town, there aren't," remarked another policeman.</p> + +<p>"What is plain," continued the doctor, looking at Cotherstone and the +others, "is that Kitely was strangled by this rope, and that everything +on him of any value was taken. You'd better find out what he had, or was +likely to have, on him, sergeant. Ask the housekeeper."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett came from the inner room, where she had already begun her +preparations for laying out the body. She was as calm as when Bent first +told her of what had occurred, and she stood at the end of the table, +the cord between her and her questioners, and showed no emotion, no +surprise at what had occurred.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell aught about this, ma'am?" asked the sergeant. "You see +your master's met his death<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> at somebody's hands, and there's no doubt +he's been robbed, too. Do you happen to know what he had on him?"</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, who had her arms full of linen, set her burden down on +a clothes-horse in front of the fire before she replied. She seemed to +be thinking deeply, and when she turned round again, it was to shake her +queerly ornamented head.</p> + +<p>"Well, I couldn't say exactly," she answered. "But I shouldn't wonder if +it was a good deal—for such as him, you know. He did carry money on +him—he was never short of money ever since I knew him, and sometimes +he'd a fair amount in his pockets—I know, of course, because he'd pull +it out, loose gold, and silver, and copper, and I've seen him take +bank-notes out of his pocket-book. But he'd be very like to have a good +deal more than usual on him tonight."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Because he'd been to the bank this morning to draw his pension money," +replied Miss Pett. "I don't know how much that would be, any more than I +know where it came from. He was a close man—he'd never tell anybody +more than he liked, and he never told me aught about that. But I do know +it was what you'd call a fair amount—for a man that lives in a cottage. +He went to the bank this noon—he always went once a quarter—and he +said this afternoon that he'd go and pay his rent to Mr. Cotherstone +there—"</p> + +<p>"As he did," muttered Cotherstone, "yes—he did that."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>"Well, he'd have all the rest of his money on him," continued the +housekeeper. "And he'd have what he had before, because he'd other money +coming in than that pension. And I tell you he was the sort of man that +carried his money about him—he was foolish that way. And then he'd a +very valuable watch and chain—he told me they were a presentation, and +cost nearly a hundred pounds. And of course, he'd a pocket-book full of +papers."</p> + +<p>"This pocket-book?" asked the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Aye, that's it, right enough," assented Miss Pett. "But he always had +it bursting with bits of letters and papers. You don't mean to say you +found it empty? You did?—very well then, I'm no fool, and I say that if +he's been murdered, there's been some reason for it altogether apart +from robbing him of what money and things he had on him! Whoever's taken +his papers wanted 'em bad!"</p> + +<p>"About his habits, now?" said the sergeant, ignoring Miss Pett's +suggestion. "Did he go walking on the Shawl every night?"</p> + +<p>"Regular as clock-work," answered the housekeeper. "He used to read and +write a deal at night—then he'd side away all his books and papers, get +his supper, and go out for an hour, walking round and about. Then he'd +come in, put on his slippers—there they are, set down to warm for +him—smoke one pipe, drink one glass of toddy—there's the stuff for +it—and go to bed. He was the regularest man I ever knew, in all he +did."</p> + +<p>"Was he out longer than usual tonight?" asked Bent, who saw that the +sergeant had no more to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> ask. "You seemed to suggest that, when we +came."</p> + +<p>"Well, he was a bit longer," admitted Miss Pett. "Of course, he varied. +But an hour was about his time. Up and down and about the hill-side he'd +go—in and out of the coppices. I've warned him more than once."</p> + +<p>"But why?" asked Brereton, whose curiosity was impelling him to take a +part in this drama. "What reason had you for warning him?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett turned and looked scrutinizingly at her last questioner. She +took a calm and close observation of him and her curious face relaxed +into something like a smile.</p> + +<p>"I can tell what you are, mister," she said. "A law gentleman! I've seen +your sort many a time. And you're a sharp 'un, too! Well—you're young, +but you're old enough to have heard a thing or two. Did you never hear +that women have got what men haven't—instinct?"</p> + +<p>"Do you really tell me that the only reason you had for warning him +against going out late at night was—instinct?" asked Brereton. "Come, +now!"</p> + +<p>"Mostly instinct, anyhow," she answered. "Women have a sort of feeling +about things that men haven't—leastways, no men that I've ever met had +it. But of course, I'd more than that. Mr. Kitely, now, he was a +townsman—a London man. I'm a countrywoman. He didn't understand—you +couldn't get him to understand—that it's not safe to go walking in +lonely places in country districts like this late at night. When I'd got +to know his habits, I expostulated with him more than once. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> pointed +out to him that in spots like this, where there's naught nearer than +them houses at the foot of the hill one way, and Harborough's cottage +another way, and both of 'em a good quarter of a mile off, and where +there's all these coverts and coppices and rocks, it was not safe for an +elderly man who sported a fine gold watch and chain to go wandering +about in the darkness. There's always plenty of bad characters in +country places who'd knock the King himself on the head for the sake of +as much as Mr. Kitely had on him, even if it was no more than the chain +which every Tom and Dick could see! And it's turned out just as I +prophesied. He's come to it!"</p> + +<p>"But you said just now that he must have been murdered for something +else than his valuables," said Brereton.</p> + +<p>"I said that if his papers were gone, somebody must have wanted them +bad," retorted Miss Pett. "Anyway, what's happened is just what I felt +might happen, and there he is—dead. And I should be obliged to some of +you if you'd send up a woman or two to help me lay him out, for I can't +be expected to do everything by myself, nor to stop in this cottage +alone, neither!"</p> + +<p>Leaving the doctor and a couple of policemen to arrange matters with the +housekeeper, the sergeant went outside, followed by the others. He +turned to Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>"I'm going down to Harborough's cottage, at the other end of the Shawl," +he said. "I don't expect to learn aught much there—yet—but I can see +if he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> at home, anyway. If any of you gentlemen like to come down——"</p> + +<p>Bent laid a hand on Cotherstone's arm and turned him in the direction of +his house.</p> + +<p>"Brereton and I'll go with the sergeant," he said. "You must go +home—Lettie'll be anxious about things. Go down with him, Mr. +Garthwaite—you'll both hear more later."</p> + +<p>To Brereton's great surprise, Cotherstone made no objection to this +summary dismissal. He and Garthwaite went off in one direction; the +others, led by the observant policeman who had found the empty +pocket-book and recognized the peculiar properties of the cord, turned +away in another.</p> + +<p>"Where's this we're going now?" asked Brereton as he and Bent followed +their leaders through the trees and down the slopes of the Shawl.</p> + +<p>"To John Harborough's cottage—at the other end of the hill," answered +Bent. "He's the man they spoke of in there. He's a queer character—a +professional pig-killer, who has other trades as well. He does a bit of +rat-catching, and a bit of mole-catching—and a good deal of poaching. +In fact, he's an odd person altogether, not only in character but in +appearance. And the curious thing is that he's got an exceedingly +good-looking and accomplished daughter, a really superior girl who's +been well educated and earns her living as a governess in the town. +Queer pair they make if you ever see them together!"</p> + +<p>"Does she live with him?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, she lives with him!" replied Bent. "And I believe that they're +very devoted to each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> other, though everybody marvels that such a man +should have such a daughter. There's a mystery about that man—odd +character that he is, he's been well bred, and the folk hereabouts call +him Gentleman Jack."</p> + +<p>"Won't all this give the girl a fright?" suggested Brereton. "Wouldn't +it be better if somebody went quietly to the man's cottage?"</p> + +<p>But when they came to Harborough's cottage, at the far end of the Shawl, +it was all in darkness.</p> + +<p>"Still, they aren't gone to bed," suddenly observed the policeman who +had a faculty for seeing things. "There's a good fire burning in the +kitchen grate, and they wouldn't leave that. Must be out, both of 'em."</p> + +<p>"Go in and knock quietly," counselled the sergeant.</p> + +<p>He followed the policeman up the flagged walk to the cottage door, and +the other two presently went after them. In the starlight Brereton +looked round at these new surroundings—an old, thatched cottage, set in +a garden amongst trees and shrubs, with a lean-to shed at one end of it, +and over everything an atmosphere of silence.</p> + +<p>The silence was suddenly broken. A quick, light step sounded on the +flagged path behind them, and the policemen turned their lamps in its +direction. And Brereton, looking sharply round, became aware of the +presence of a girl, who looked at these visitors wonderingly out of a +pair of beautiful grey eyes.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE MAYOR</h3> + +<p>Here, then, thought Brereton, was Gentleman Jack's daughter—the girl of +whom Bent had just been telling him. He looked at her narrowly as she +stood confronting the strange group. A self-possessed young woman, he +said to himself—beyond a little heightening of colour, a little +questioning look about eyes and lips she showed no trace of undue +surprise or fear. Decidedly a good-looking young woman, too, and not at +all the sort of daughter that a man of queer character would be supposed +to have—refined features, an air of breeding, a suggestion of culture. +And he noticed that as he and Bent raised their hats, the two policemen +touched their helmets—they were evidently well acquainted with the +girl, and eyed her with some misgiving as well as respect.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, miss," said the sergeant, who was obviously anything but +pleased with his task. "But it's like this, d'you see?—your father, +now, does he happen to be at home?"</p> + +<p>"What is it you want?" she asked. And beginning a glance of inquiry at +the sergeant she finished it at Bent. "Has something happened, Mr. +Bent?" she went on. "If you want my father, and he's not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> in, then I +don't know where he is—he went out early in the evening, and he hadn't +returned when I left the house an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"I daresay it's nothing," replied Bent. "But the fact is that something +has happened. Your neighbour at the other end of the wood—old Mr. +Kitely, you know—he's been found dead."</p> + +<p>Brereton, closely watching the girl, saw that this conveyed nothing to +her, beyond the mere announcement. She moved towards the door of the +cottage, taking a key from her muff.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she said. "And—I suppose you want my father to help? He may be +in—he may have gone to bed."</p> + +<p>She unlocked the door, walked into the open living-room, and turning up +a lamp which stood on the table, glanced around her.</p> + +<p>"No," she continued. "He's not come in—so——"</p> + +<p>"Better tell her, Mr. Bent," whispered the sergeant. "No use keeping it +back, sir—she'll have to know."</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said Bent, "Mr. Kitely—we're afraid—has been murdered."</p> + +<p>The girl turned sharply at that; her eyes dilated, and a brighter tinge +of colour came into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Murdered!" she exclaimed. "Shot?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes went past Bent to a corner of the room, and Brereton, following +them, saw that there stood a gun, placed amongst a pile of fishing-rods +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> similar sporting implements. Her glance rested on it for only the +fraction of a second; then it went back to Bent's face.</p> + +<p>"I'd better tell you everything," said Bent quietly. "Mr. Kitely has +been strangled. And the piece of cord with which it was done is—so the +police here say—just such a piece as might have been cut off one of the +cords which your father uses in his trade, you know."</p> + +<p>"We aren't suggesting aught, you know, Miss Avice," remarked the +sergeant. "Don't go for to think that—at present. But, you see, +Harborough, he might have one o' those cords hanging about somewhere, +and—do you understand?"</p> + +<p>The girl had become very quiet, looking steadily from one man to the +other. Once more her eyes settled on Bent.</p> + +<p>"Do you know why Kitely was killed?" she asked suddenly. "Have you seen +any reason for it?"</p> + +<p>"He had been robbed, after his death," answered Bent. "That seems +absolutely certain."</p> + +<p>"Whatever you may say, you've got some suspicion about my father," she +remarked after a pause. "Well—all I can say is, my father has no need +to rob anybody—far from it, if you want the truth. But what do you +want?" she continued, a little impatiently. "My father isn't in, and I +don't know where he is—often he is out all night."</p> + +<p>"If we could just look round his shed, now?" said the sergeant. "Just to +see if aught's missing, like, you know. You see, miss——"</p> + +<p>"You can look round the shed—and round any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>where else," said Avice. +"Though what good that will do—well, you know where the shed is."</p> + +<p>She turned away and began taking off her hat and coat, and the four men +went out into the garden and turned to the lean-to shed at the end of +the cottage. A tiled verandah ran along the front of cottage and shed, +and the door of the shed was at its further end. But as the sergeant was +about to open it, the policeman of the observant nature made his third +discovery. He had been flashing the light of his bull's-eye lamp over +his surroundings, and he now turned it on a coil of rope which hung from +a nail in the boarded wall of the shed, between the door and the window.</p> + +<p>"There you are, gentlemen!" he said, lifting the lamp in one hand and +pointing triumphantly to a definite point of the coiled cord with the +index finger of the other. "There! Cut clean, too—just like the bit up +yonder!"</p> + +<p>Brereton pressed forward and looked narrowly at what the man was +indicating. There was no doubt that a length of cord had been freshly +cut off the coil, and cut, too, with an unusually sharp, keen-bladed +knife; the edges of the severance were clean and distinct, the separated +strands were fresh and unsoiled. It was obvious that a piece of that +cord had been cut from the rest within a very short time, and the +sergeant shook his head gravely as he took the coil down from its nail.</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's any need to look round much further, Mr. Bent," +he said. "Of course, I shall take this away with me, and compare it with +the shorter piece. But we'll just peep into this shed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> so as to make +his daughter believe that was what we wanted: I don't want to frighten +her more than we have done. Naught there, you see," he went on, opening +the shed door and revealing a whitewashed interior furnished with +fittings and articles of its owner's trade. "Well, we'll away—with what +we've got."</p> + +<p>He went back to the door of the cottage and putting his head inside +called gently to its occupant.</p> + +<p>"Well?" demanded Avice.</p> + +<p>"All right, miss—we're going," said the sergeant. "But if your father +comes in, just ask him to step down to the police-station, d'you see?—I +should like to have a word or two with him."</p> + +<p>The girl made no answer to this gentle request, and when the sergeant +had joined the others, she shut the door of the cottage, and Brereton +heard it locked and bolted.</p> + +<p>"That's about the strangest thing of all!" he said as he and Bent left +the policemen and turned down a by-lane which led towards the town. "I +haven't a doubt that the piece of cord with which Kitely was strangled +was cut off that coil! Now what does it mean? Of course, to me it's the +very surest proof that this man Harborough had nothing to do with the +murder."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>"Why? My dear fellow!" exclaimed Brereton. "Do you really think that any +man who was in possession of his senses would do such a thing? Take a +piece of cord from a coil—leave the coil where anybody could find +it—strangle a man with the severed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> piece and leave it round the +victim's neck? Absurd! No—a thousand times no!"</p> + +<p>"Well—and what then?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Somebody cut that piece off—for the use it was put to," answered +Brereton. "But—who?"</p> + +<p>Bent made no reply for a while. Then, as they reached the outskirts of +the town, he clapped a hand on his companion's arm.</p> + +<p>"You're forgetting something—in spite of your legal mind," he said. +"The murderer may have been interrupted before he could remove it. And +in that case——"</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly as a gate opened in the wall of a garden which they +were just passing, and a tall man emerged. In the light of the adjacent +lamp Bent recognized Mallalieu. Mallalieu, too, recognized him, and +stopped.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that you, Mr. Mayor!" exclaimed Bent. "I was just wondering whether +to drop in on you as I passed. Have you heard what's happened tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Heard naught," replied Mallalieu. "I've just been having a hand at +whist with Councillor Northrop and his wife and daughter. What has +happened, then?"</p> + +<p>They were all three walking towards the town by that time, and Bent +slipped between Brereton and Mallalieu and took the Mayor's arm.</p> + +<p>"Murder's happened," he said. "That's the plain truth of it. You know +old Kitely—your partner's tenant? Well, somebody's killed him."</p> + +<p>The effect of this announcement on Mallalieu was extraordinary. Bent +felt the arm into which he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> just slipped his own literally quiver +with a spasmodic response to the astonished brain; the pipe which +Mallalieu was smoking fell from his lips; out of his lips came something +very like a cry of dismay.</p> + +<p>"God bless me!" he exclaimed. "You don't say so?"</p> + +<p>"It's a fact," said Bent. He stopped and picked up the fallen pipe. +"Sorry I let it out so clumsily—I didn't think it would affect you like +that. But there it is—Kitely's been murdered. Strangled!"</p> + +<p>"Strangled!" echoed Mallalieu. "Dear—dear—dear! When was this, now?"</p> + +<p>"Within the hour," replied Bent. "Mr. Brereton here—a friend of mine +from London—and I were spending the evening at your partner's, when +that neighbour of his, Garthwaite, came running in to tell Mr. +Cotherstone that Kitely was lying dead on the Shawl. Of course we all +went up."</p> + +<p>"Then—you've seen him?" demanded Mallalieu. "There's no doubt about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Doubt!" exclaimed Bent. "I should think there is no doubt! As +determined a murder as ever I heard of. No—there's no doubt."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu paused—at the gate of his own house.</p> + +<p>"Come in, gentlemen," he said. "Come in just a minute, anyway. I—egad +it's struck me all of a heap, has that news! Murder?—there hasn't been +such a thing in these parts ever since I came here, near thirty years +ago. Come in and tell me a bit more about it."</p> + +<p>He led the way up a gravelled drive, admitted himself and his visitors +to the house with a latchkey, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> turned into a parlour where a fire +burned and a small supper-tray was set out on a table beneath a lamp.</p> + +<p>"All my folks'll have gone to bed," he said. "They go and leave me a +bite of something, you see—I'm often out late. Will you gentlemen have +a sandwich—or a dry biscuit? Well, you'll have a drink, then. And so," +he went on, as he produced glasses from the sideboard, "and so you were +spending the evening with Cotherstone, what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't say that we exactly spent all the evening with him," +answered Bent, "because he had to go out for a good part of it, on +business. But we were with him—we were at his house—when the news +came."</p> + +<p>"Aye, he had to go out, had he?" asked Mallalieu, as if from mere +curiosity. "What time would that be, like? I knew he'd business +tonight—business of ours."</p> + +<p>"Nine to ten, roughly speaking," replied Bent. "He'd just got in when +Garthwaite came with the news."</p> + +<p>"It 'ud shock him, of course," suggested Mallalieu. "His own tenant!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—it was a shock," agreed Bent. He took the glass which his host +handed to him and sat down. "We'd better tell you all about it," he +said. "It's a queer affair—Mr. Brereton here, who's a barrister, thinks +it's a very queer affair."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu nodded and sat down, too, glass in hand. He listened +attentively—and Brereton watched him while he listened. A sleek, sly, +observant, watchful man, this, said Brereton to himself—the sort that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +would take all in and give little out. And he waited expectantly to hear +what Mallalieu would say when he had heard everything.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu turned to him when Bent had finished.</p> + +<p>"I agree with you, sir," he said. "Nobody but a fool would have cut that +piece of cord off, left it round the man's neck, and left the coil +hanging where anybody could find it. And that man Harborough's no fool! +This isn't his job, Bent. No!"</p> + +<p>"Whose, then?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu suddenly drank off the contents of his glass and rose.</p> + +<p>"As I'm chief magistrate, I'd better go down to see the police," he +said. "There's been a queer character or two hanging about the town of +late. I'd better stir 'em up. You won't come down, I suppose?" he +continued when they left the house together.</p> + +<p>"No—we can do no good," answered Bent.</p> + +<p>His own house was just across the road from Mallalieu's, and he and +Brereton said goodnight and turned towards it as the Mayor strode +quickly off in the direction of the police-station.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>NIGHT WORK</h3> + +<p>From the little colony of new houses at the foot of the Shawl to the +police station at the end of the High Street was only a few minutes' +walk. Mallalieu was a quick walker, and he covered this distance at his +top speed. But during those few minutes he came to a conclusion, for he +was as quick of thought as in the use of his feet.</p> + +<p>Of course, Cotherstone had killed Kitely. That was certain. He had begun +to suspect that as soon as he heard of the murder; he became convinced +of it as soon as young Bent mentioned that Cotherstone had left his +guests for an hour after supper. Without a doubt Cotherstone had lost +his head and done this foolish thing! And now Cotherstone must be +protected, safe-guarded; heaven and earth must be moved lest suspicion +should fall on him. For nothing could be done to Cotherstone without +effect upon himself—and of himself—and of himself Mallalieu meant to +take very good care. Never mind what innocent person suffered, +Cotherstone must go free.</p> + +<p>And the first thing to do was to assume direction of the police, to pull +strings, to engineer matters. No matter how much he believed in +Harborough's in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>nocence, Harborough was the man to go for—at present. +Attention must be concentrated on him, and on him only. +Anything—anything, at whatever cost of morals and honesty to divert +suspicion from that fool of a Cotherstone!—if it were not already too +late. It was the desire to make sure that it was not too late, the +desire to be beforehand, that made Mallalieu hasten to the police. He +knew his own power, he had a supreme confidence in his ability to manage +things, and he was determined to give up the night to the scheme already +seething in his fertile brain rather than that justice should enter upon +what he would consider a wrong course.</p> + +<p>While he sat silently and intently listening to Bent's story of the +crime, Mallalieu, who could think and listen and give full attention to +both mental processes without letting either suffer at the expense of +the other, had reconstructed the murder. He knew Cotherstone—nobody +knew him half as well. Cotherstone was what Mallalieu called deep—he +was ingenious, resourceful, inventive. Cotherstone, in the early hours +of the evening, had doubtless thought the whole thing out. He would be +well acquainted with his prospective victim's habits. He would know +exactly when and where to waylay Kitely. The filching of the piece of +cord from the wall of Harborough's shed was a clever thing—infernally +clever, thought Mallalieu, who had a designing man's whole-hearted +admiration for any sort of cleverness in his own particular line. It +would be an easy thing to do—and what a splendidly important thing! Of +course Cotherstone knew all about Harborough's arrangements—he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> would +often pass the pig-killer's house—from the hedge of the garden he would +have seen the coils of greased rope hanging from their nails under the +verandah roof, aye, a thousand times. Nothing easier than to slip into +Harborough's garden from the adjacent wood, cut off a length of the +cord, use it—and leave it as a first bit of evidence against a man +whose public record was uncertain. Oh, very clever indeed!—if only +Cotherstone could carry things off, and not allow his conscience to +write marks on his face. And he must help—and innocent as he felt +Harborough to be, he must set things going against Harborough—his life +was as naught, against the Mallalieu-Cotherstone safety.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu walked into the police-station, to find the sergeant just +returned and in consultation with the superintendent, whom he had +summoned to hear his report. Both turned inquiringly on the Mayor.</p> + +<p>"I've heard all about it," said Mallalieu, bustling forward. "Mr. Bent +told me. Now then, where's that cord they talk about?"</p> + +<p>The sergeant pointed to the coil and the severed piece, which lay on a +large sheet of brown paper on a side-table, preparatory to being sealed +up. Mallalieu crossed over and made a short examination of these +exhibits; then he turned to the superintendent with an air of decision.</p> + +<p>"Aught been done?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Mr. Mayor," answered the superintendent. "We were just +consulting as to what's best to be done."</p> + +<p>"I should think that's obvious," replied Mallalieu.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> "You must get to +work! Two things you want to do just now. Ring up Norcaster for one +thing, and High Gill Junction for another. Give 'em a description of +Harborough—he'll probably have made for one place or another, to get +away by train. And ask 'em at Norcaster to lend you a few plain-clothes +men, and to send 'em along here at once by motor—there's no train till +morning. Then, get all your own men out—now!—and keep folk off the +paths in that wood, and put a watch on Harborough's house, in case he +should put a bold face on it and come back—he's impudence enough—and +of course, if he comes, they'll take him. Get to all that now—at once!"</p> + +<p>"You think it's Harborough, then?" said the superintendent.</p> + +<p>"I think there's what the law folks call a prymer facy case against +him," replied Mallalieu. "It's your duty to get him, anyway, and if he +can clear himself, why, let him. Get busy with that telephone, and be +particular about help from Norcaster—we're under-staffed here as it +is."</p> + +<p>The superintendent hurried out of his office and Mallalieu turned to the +sergeant.</p> + +<p>"I understood from Mr. Bent," he said, "that that housekeeper of +Kitely's said the old fellow had been to the bank at noon today, to draw +some money? That so?"</p> + +<p>"So she said, your Worship," answered the sergeant. "Some allowance, or +something of that sort, that he drew once a quarter. She didn't know how +much."</p> + +<p>"But she thought he'd have it on him when he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> attacked?" asked +Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"She said he was a man for carrying his money on him always," replied +the sergeant. "We understood from her it was his habit. She says he +always had a good bit on him—as a rule. And of course, if he'd drawn +more today, why, he might have a fair lot."</p> + +<p>"We'll soon find that out," remarked Mallalieu. "I'll step round to the +bank manager and rouse him. Now you get your men together—this is no +time for sleeping. You ought to have men up at the Shawl now."</p> + +<p>"I've left one man at Kitely's cottage, sir, and another about +Harborough's—in case Harborough should come back during the night," +said the sergeant. "We've two more constables close by the station. I'll +get them up."</p> + +<p>"Do it just now," commanded Mallalieu. "I'll be back in a while."</p> + +<p>He hurried out again and went rapidly down the High Street to the +old-fashioned building near the Town Hall in which the one bank of the +little town did its business, and in which the bank manager lived. There +was not a soul about in the street, and the ringing of the bell at the +bank-house door, and the loud knock which Mallalieu gave in supplement +to it, seemed to wake innumerable echoes. And proof as he believed +himself to be against such slight things, the sudden opening of a window +above his head made him jump.</p> + +<p>The startled bank-manager, hurrying down to his midnight visitor in his +dressing-gown and slippers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> stood aghast when he had taken the Mayor +within and learned his errand.</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" he said. "Kitely was in the bank today, about noon—I +attended to him myself. That's the second time he's been here since he +came to the town. He called here a day or two after he first took that +house from Mr. Cotherstone—to cash a draft for his quarter's pension. +He told me then who he was. Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," replied Mallalieu, telling the lie all the more +readily because he had been fully prepared for the question to which it +was an answer. "I knew naught about him."</p> + +<p>"He was an ex-detective," said the bank-manager. "Pensioned off, of +course: a nice pension. He told me he'd had—I believe it was getting on +to forty years' service in the police force. Dear, dear, this is a sad +business—and I'm afraid I can tell you a bit more about it."</p> + +<p>"What?" demanded Mallalieu, showing surprise in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"You mentioned Harborough," said the bank-manager, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mallalieu. "What then?"</p> + +<p>"Harborough was at the counter when Kitely took his money," answered the +bank-manager. "He had called in to change a five-pound note."</p> + +<p>The two men looked at each other in silence for a time. Then the +bank-manager shook his head again.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't think that a man who has a five-pound note of his own to +change would be likely, to murder another man for what he could get," he +went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> on. "But Kitely had a nice bit of money to carry away, and he wore +a very valuable gold watch and chain, which he was rather fond of +showing in the town, and——eh?"</p> + +<p>"It's a suspicious business," said Mallalieu. "You say Harborough saw +Kitely take his money?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't fail," replied the bank-manager. "He was standing by him. The +old man put it—notes and gold—in a pocket that he had inside his +waistcoat."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu lingered, as if in thought, rubbing his chin and staring at +the carpet. "Well, that's a sort of additional clue," he remarked at +last. "It looks very black against Harborough."</p> + +<p>"We've the numbers of the notes that I handed to Kitely," observed the +bank-manager. "They may be useful if there's any attempt to change any +note, you know."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Aye, just so," he answered. "But I should say there won't be—just yet. +It's a queer business, isn't it—but, as I say, there's evidence against +this fellow, and we must try to get him."</p> + +<p>He went out then and crossed the street to the doctor's house—while he +was about it, he wanted to know all he could. And with the doctor he +stopped much longer than he had stopped at the bank, and when he left +him he was puzzled. For the doctor said to him what he had said to +Cotherstone and to Bent and to the rest of the group in the wood—that +whoever had strangled Kitely had had experience in that sort of grim +work before—or else he was a sailor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>man who had expert knowledge of +tying knots. Now Mallalieu was by that time more certain than ever that +Cotherstone was the murderer, and he felt sure that Cotherstone had no +experience of that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>"Done with a single twist and a turn!" he muttered to himself as he +walked back to the police-station. "Aye—aye!—that seems to show +knowledge. But it's not my business to follow that up just now—I know +what my business is—nobody better."</p> + +<p>The superintendent and the sergeant were giving orders to two +sleepy-eyed policemen when Mallalieu rejoined them. He waited until the +policemen had gone away to patrol the Shawl and then took the +superintendent aside.</p> + +<p>"I've heard a bit more incriminatory news against Harborough," he said. +"He was in the bank this morning—or yesterday morning, as it now +is—when Kitely drew his money. There may be naught in that—and there +may be a lot. Anyway, he knew the old man had a goodish bit on him."</p> + +<p>The superintendent nodded, but his manner was doubtful.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, that's evidence—considering things," he said, "but +you know as well as I do, Mr. Mayor, that Harborough's not a man that's +ever been in want of money. It's the belief of a good many folks in the +town that he has money of his own: he's always been a bit of a mystery +ever since I can remember. He could afford to give that daughter of his +a good education—good as a young lady gets—and he spends plenty, and I +never heard of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> him owing aught. Of course, he's a queer lot—we know +he's a poacher and all that, but he's so skilful about it that we've +never been able to catch him. I can't think he's the guilty party—and +yet——"</p> + +<p>"You can't get away from the facts," said Mallalieu. "He'll have to be +sought for. If he's made himself scarce—if he doesn't come home——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that 'ud certainly be against him!" agreed the superintendent. +"Well, I'm doing all I can. We've got our own men out, and there's three +officers coming over from Norcaster by motor—they're on the way now."</p> + +<p>"Send for me if aught turns up," said Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>He walked slowly home, his brain still busy with possibilities and +eventualities. And within five minutes of his waking at his usual hour +of six it was again busy—and curious. For he and Cotherstone, both keen +business men who believed in constant supervision of their workmen, were +accustomed to meet at the yard at half-past six every morning, summer or +winter, and he was wondering what his partner would say and do—and look +like.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone was in the yard when Mallalieu reached it. He was giving +some orders to a carter, and he finished what he was doing before coming +up to Mallalieu. In the half light of the morning he looked pretty much +as usual—but Mallalieu noticed a certain worn look under his eyes and +suppressed nervousness in his voice. He himself remained silent and +observant, and he let Cotherstone speak first.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Cotherstone, coming close to him as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> they stood in a vacant +space outside the office. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well?" responded Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone began to fidget with some account books and papers that he +had brought from his house. He eyed his partner with furtive glances; +Mallalieu eyed him with steady and watchful ones.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've heard all about it?" said Cotherstone, after an +awkward silence.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" replied Mallalieu, drily. "Aye, I've heard."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone looked round. There was no one near him, but he dropped his +voice to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"So long as nobody but him knew," he muttered, giving Mallalieu another +side glance, "so long as he hadn't said aught to anybody—and I don't +think he had—we're—safe."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu was still staring quietly at Cotherstone. And Cotherstone +began to grow restless under that steady, questioning look.</p> + +<p>"Oh?" observed Mallalieu, at last. "Aye? You think so? Ah!"</p> + +<p>"Good God—don't you!" exclaimed Cotherstone, roused to a sudden anger. +"Why——"</p> + +<p>But just then a policeman came out of the High Street into the yard, +caught sight of the two partners, and came over to them, touching his +helmet.</p> + +<p>"Can your Worship step across the way?" he asked. "They've brought +Harborough down, and the Super wants a word with you."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE</h3> + +<p>Instead of replying to the policeman by word or movement, Mallalieu +glanced at Cotherstone. There was a curious suggestion in that glance +which Cotherstone did not like. He was already angry; Mallalieu's +inquiring look made him still angrier.</p> + +<p>"Like to come?" asked Mallalieu, laconically.</p> + +<p>"No!" answered Cotherstone, turning towards the office. "It's naught to +me."</p> + +<p>He disappeared within doors, and Mallalieu walked out of the yard into +the High Street—to run against Bent and Brereton, who were hurrying in +the direction of the police-station, in company with another constable.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Mallalieu as they met. "So you've heard, too, I suppose? +Heard that Harborough's been taken, I mean. Now, how was he taken?" he +went on, turning to the policeman who had summoned him. "And when, and +where?—let's be knowing about it."</p> + +<p>"He wasn't taken, your Worship," replied the man. "Leastways, not in +what you'd call the proper way. He came back to his house half an hour +or so ago—when it was just getting nicely light—and two of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> our men +that were there told him what was going on, and he appeared to come +straight down with them. He says he knows naught, your Worship."</p> + +<p>"That's what you'd expect," remarked Mallalieu, drily. "He'd be a fool +if he said aught else."</p> + +<p>He put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, and, followed by the +others, strolled into the police-station as if he were dropping in on +business of trifling importance. And there was nothing to be seen there +which betokened that a drama of life and death was being constructed in +that formal-looking place of neutral-coloured walls, precise furniture, +and atmosphere of repression. Three or four men stood near the +superintendent's desk; a policeman was writing slowly and laboriously on +a big sheet of blue paper at a side-table, a woman was coaxing a +sluggish fire to burn.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing's ridiculous!" said a man's scornful voice. "It +shouldn't take five seconds to see that."</p> + +<p>Brereton instinctively picked out the speaker. That was Harborough, of +course—the tall man who stood facing the others and looking at them as +if he wondered how they could be as foolish as he evidently considered +them to be. He looked at this man with great curiosity. There was +certainly something noticeable about him, he decided. A wiry, alert, +keen-eyed man, with good, somewhat gipsy-like features, much tanned by +the weather, as if he were perpetually exposed to sun and wind, rain and +hail; sharp of movement, evidently of more than ordinary intelligence, +and, in spite of his rough garments and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> fur cap, having an indefinable +air of gentility and breeding about him. Brereton had already noticed +the pitch and inflection of his voice; now, as Harborough touched his +cap to the Mayor, he noticed that his hands, though coarsened and +weather-browned, were well-shaped and delicate. Something about him, +something in his attitude, the glance of his eye, seemed to indicate +that he was the social superior of the policemen, uniformed or +plain-clothed, who were watching him with speculative and slightly +puzzled looks.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what's all this, now?" said Mallalieu coming to a halt and +looking round. "What's he got to say, like?"</p> + +<p>The superintendent looked at Harborough and nodded. And Harborough took +that nod at its true meaning, and he spoke—readily.</p> + +<p>"This!" he said, turning to the new-comers, and finally addressing +himself to Mallalieu. "And it's what I've already said to the +superintendent here. I know nothing about what's happened to Kitely. I +know no more of his murder than you do—not so much, I should say—for I +know naught at all beyond what I've been told. I left my house at eight +o'clock last night—I've been away all night—I got back at six o'clock +this morning. As soon as I heard what was afoot, I came straight here. I +put it to you, Mr. Mayor—if I'd killed this old man, do you think I'd +have come back? Is it likely?"</p> + +<p>"You might ha' done, you know," answered Mallalieu. "There's no +accounting for what folks will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> do—in such cases. But—what else? Say +aught you like—it's all informal, this."</p> + +<p>"Very well," continued Harborough. "They tell me the old man was +strangled by a piece of cord that was evidently cut off one of my coils. +Now, is there any man in his common senses would believe that if I did +that job, I should leave such a bit of clear evidence behind me? I'm not +a fool!"</p> + +<p>"You might ha' been interrupted before you could take that cord off his +neck," suggested Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"Aye—but you'd have to reckon up the average chances of that!" +exclaimed Harborough, with a sharp glance at the bystanders. "And the +chances are in my favour. No, sir!—whoever did this job, cut that +length of cord off my coil, which anybody could get at, and used it to +throw suspicion on me! That's the truth—and you'll find it out some +day, whatever happens now."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu exchanged glances with the superintendent and then faced +Harborough squarely, with an air of inviting confidence.</p> + +<p>"Now, my lad!" he said, almost coaxingly. "There's a very simple thing +to do, and it'll clear this up as far as you're concerned. Just answer a +plain question. Where ha' you been all night?"</p> + +<p>A tense silence fell—broken by the crackling of the wood in the grate, +which the charwoman had at last succeeded in stirring into a blaze, and +by the rattling of the fire-irons which she now arranged in the fender. +Everybody was watching the suspected man, and nobody as keenly as +Brereton. And Brereton saw that a deadlock was at hand. A strange look +of obstinacy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> and hardness came into Harborough's eyes, and he shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"No!" he answered. "I shan't say! The truth'll come out in good time +without that. It's not necessary for me to say. Where I was during the +night is my business—nobody else's."</p> + +<p>"You'll not tell?" asked Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"I shan't tell," replied Harborough.</p> + +<p>"You're in danger, you know," said Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"In your opinion," responded Harborough, doggedly. "Not in mine! There's +law in this country. You can arrest me, if you like—but you'll have +your work set to prove that I killed yon old man. No, sir! But——" here +he paused, and looking round him, laughed almost maliciously "—but I'll +tell you what I'll do," he went on. "I'll tell you this, if it'll do you +any good—if I liked to say the word, I could prove my innocence down to +the ground! There!"</p> + +<p>"And you won't say that word?" asked Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"I shan't! Why? Because it's not necessary. Why!" demanded Harborough, +laughing with an expresssion of genuine contempt. "What is there against +me? Naught! As I say, there's law in this country—there's such a thing +as a jury. Do you believe that any jury would convict a man on what +you've got? It's utter nonsense!"</p> + +<p>The constable who had come down from the Shawl with Bent and Brereton +had for some time been endeavouring to catch the eye of the +superintendent. Succeeding in his attempts at last, he beckoned that +official into a quiet corner of the room, and turning his back on the +group near the fireplace, pulled some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>thing out of his pocket. The two +men bent over it, and the constable began to talk in whispers.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu meanwhile was eyeing Harborough in his stealthy, steady +fashion. He looked as if he was reckoning him up.</p> + +<p>"Well, my lad," he observed at last. "You're making a mistake. If you +can't or won't tell what you've been doing with yourself between eight +last night and six this morning, why, then——"</p> + +<p>The superintendent came back, holding something in his hand. He, too, +looked at Harborough.</p> + +<p>"Will you hold up your left foot?—turn the sole up," he asked. "Just to +see—something."</p> + +<p>Harborough complied, readily, but with obvious scornful impatience. And +when he had shown the sole of the left foot, the superintendent opened +his hand and revealed a small crescent-shaped bit of bright steel.</p> + +<p>"That's off the toe of your boot, Harborough," he said. "You know it is! +And it's been picked up—just now, as it were—where this affair +happened. You must have lost it there during the last few hours, because +it's quite bright—not a speck of rust on it, you see. What do you say +to that, now?"</p> + +<p>"Naught!" retorted Harborough, defiantly. "It is mine, of course—I +noticed it was working loose yesterday. And if it was picked up in that +wood, what then? I passed through there last night on my way to—where I +was going. God—you don't mean to say you'd set a man's life on bits +o'things like that!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu beckoned the superintendent aside and talked with him. Almost +at once he himself turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> away and left the room, and the +superintendent came back to the group by the fireplace.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's no help for it, Harborough," he said. "We shall have to +detain you—and I shall have to charge you, presently. It can't be +helped—and I hope you'll be able to clear yourself."</p> + +<p>"I expected nothing else," replied Harborough. "I'm not blaming you—nor +anybody. Mr. Bent," he continued, turning to where Bent and Brereton +stood a little apart. "I'd be obliged to you if you'd do something for +me. Go and tell my daughter about this, if you please! You see, I came +straight down here—I didn't go into my house when I got back. If you'd +just step up and tell her—and bid her not be afraid—there's naught to +be afraid of, as she'll find—as everybody'll find."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Bent. "I'll go at once." He tapped Brereton on the +arm, and led him out into the street. "Well?" he asked, when they were +outside. "What do you think of that, now?"</p> + +<p>"That man gives one all the suggestion of innocence," remarked Brereton, +thoughtfully, "and from a merely superficial observation of him, I, +personally, should say he is innocent. But then, you know, I've known +the most hardened and crafty criminals assume an air of innocence, and +keep it up, to the very end. However, we aren't concerned about that +just now—the critical point here, for Harborough, at any rate, is the +evidence against him."</p> + +<p>"And what do you think of that?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>"There's enough to warrant his arrest," answered Brereton, "and he'll be +committed on it, and he'll go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> for trial. All that's certain—unless +he's a sensible man, and tells what he was doing with himself between +eight and ten o'clock last night."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and why doesn't he?" said Bent. "He must have some good reason. I +wonder if his daughter can persuade him?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that his daughter coming towards us?" inquired Brereton.</p> + +<p>Bent glanced along the road and saw Avice Harborough at a little +distance, hastening in their direction and talking earnestly to a +middle-aged man who was evidently listening with grave concern to what +she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's she," he replied, "and that's Northrop with her—the man +that Mallalieu was playing cards with last night. She's governess to +Northrop's two younger children—I expect she's heard about her father, +and has been to get Northrop to come down with her—he's a magistrate."</p> + +<p>Avice listened with ill-concealed impatience while Bent delivered his +message. He twice repeated Harborough's injunction that she was not to +be afraid, and her impatience increased.</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid," she answered. "That is, afraid of nothing but my +father's obstinacy! I know him. And I know that if he's said he won't +tell anything about his whereabouts last night, he won't! And if you +want to help him—as you seem to do—you must recognize that."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't he tell you?" suggested Brereton.</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Once or twice a year," she answered, "he goes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> away for a night, like +that, and I never know—never have known—where he goes. There's some +mystery about it—I know there is. He won't tell—he'll let things go to +the last, and even then he won't tell. You won't be able to help him +that way—there's only one way you can help."</p> + +<p>"What way?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>"Find the murderer!" exclaimed Avice with a quick flash of her eyes in +Brereton's direction. "My father is as innocent as I am—find the man +who did it and clear him that way. Don't wait for what these police +people do—they'll waste time over my father. Do something! They're all +on the wrong track—let somebody get on the right one!"</p> + +<p>"She's right!" said Northrop, a shrewd-faced little man, who looked +genuinely disturbed. "You know what police are, Mr. Bent—if they get +hold of one notion they're deaf to all others. While they're +concentrating on Harborough, you know, the real man'll be going +free—laughing in his sleeve, very like."</p> + +<p>"But—what are we to do?" asked Bent. "What are we to start on?"</p> + +<p>"Find out about Kitely himself!" exclaimed Avice. "Who knows anything +about him? He may have had enemies—he may have been tracked here. Find +out if there was any motive!" She paused and looked half appealingly, +half-searchingly at Brereton. "I heard you're a barrister—a clever +one," she went on, hesitating a little. "Can't—can't you suggest +anything?"</p> + +<p>"There's something I'll suggest at once," responded Brereton +impulsively. "Whatever else is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> done, your father's got to be defended. +I'll defend him—to the best of my ability—if you'll let me—and at no +cost to him."</p> + +<p>"Well spoken, sir!" exclaimed Northrop. "That's the style!"</p> + +<p>"But we must keep to legal etiquette," continued Brereton, smiling at +the little man's enthusiasm. "You must go to a solicitor and tell him to +instruct me—it's a mere form. Mr. Bent will take you to his solicitor, +and he'll see me. Then I can appear in due form when they bring your +father before the magistrates. Look here, Bent," he went on, wishing to +stop any expression of gratitude from the girl, "you take Miss +Harborough to your solicitor—if he isn't up, rouse him out. Tell him +what I propose to do, and make an appointment with him for me. Now run +along, both of you—I want to speak to this gentleman a minute."</p> + +<p>He took Northrop's arm, turned him in the direction of the Shawl, walked +him a few paces, and then asked him a direct question.</p> + +<p>"Now, what do you know of this man Harborough?"</p> + +<p>"He's a queer chap—a mystery man, sir," answered Northrop. "A sort of +jack-of-all-trades. He's a better sort—you'd say, to hear him talk, +he'd been a gentleman. You can see what his daughter is—he educated her +well. He's means of some sort—apart from what he earns. Yes, there's +some mystery about that man, sir—but I'll never believe he did this +job. No, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Then we must act on the daughter's suggestion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> and find out who did," +observed Brereton. "There is as much mystery about that as about +Harborough."</p> + +<p>"All mystery, sir!" agreed Northrop. "It's odd—I came through them +woods on the Shawl there about a quarter to ten last night: I'd been +across to the other side to see a man of mine that's poorly in bed. Now, +I never heard aught, never saw aught—but then, it's true I was +hurrying—I'd made an appointment for a hand at whist with the Mayor at +my house at ten o'clock, and I thought I was late. I never heard a +sound—not so much as a dead twig snap! But then, it would ha' been +before that—at some time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, at some time," agreed Brereton. "Well,—I'll see you in court, no +doubt."</p> + +<p>He turned back, and followed Bent and Avice at a distance, watching them +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"At some time?" he mused. "Um! Well, I'm now conversant with the +movements of two inhabitants of Highmarket at a critical period of last +night. Mallalieu didn't go to cards with Northrop until ten o'clock, and +at ten o'clock Cotherstone returned to his house after being absent—one hour."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>ANTECEDENTS</h3> + +<p>During the interval which elapsed between these early morning +proceedings and the bringing up of Harborough before the borough +magistrates in a densely-packed court, Brereton made up his mind as to +what he would do. He would act on Avice Harborough's suggestion, and, +while watching the trend of affairs on behalf of the suspected man, +would find out all he could about the murdered one. At that moment—so +far as Brereton knew—there was only one person in Highmarket who was +likely to know anything about Kitely: that person, of course, was the +queer-looking housekeeper. He accordingly determined, even at that early +stage of the proceedings, to have Miss Pett in the witness-box.</p> + +<p>Harborough, who had been formally arrested and charged by the police +after the conversation at the police-station, was not produced in court +until eleven o'clock, by which time the whole town and neighbourhood +were astir with excitement. Somewhat to Brereton's surprise, the +prosecuting counsel, who had been hastily fetched from Norcaster and +instructed on the way, went more fully into the case than was usual. +Brereton had expected that the police would ask for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> an adjournment +after the usual evidence of the superficial facts, and of the prisoner's +arrest, had been offered; instead of that, the prosecution brought +forward several witnesses, and amongst them the bank-manager, who said +that when he cashed Kitely's draft for him the previous morning, in +Harborough's presence, he gave Kitely the one half of the money in gold. +The significance of this evidence immediately transpired: a constable +succeeded the bank-manager and testified that after searching the +prisoner after his arrest he found on him over twenty pounds in +sovereigns and half-sovereigns, placed in a wash-leather bag.</p> + +<p>Brereton immediately recognized the impression which this evidence made. +He saw that it weighed with the half-dozen solid and slow-thinking men +who sat on one side or the other of Mallalieu on the magisterial bench; +he felt the atmosphere of suspicion which it engendered in the court. +But he did nothing: he had already learned sufficient from Avice in a +consultation with her and Bent's solicitor to know that it would be very +easy to prove to a jury that it was no unusual thing for Harborough to +carry twenty or thirty pounds in gold on him. Of all these witnesses +Brereton asked scarcely anything—but he made it clear that when +Harborough was met near his cottage at daybreak that morning by two +constables who informed him of what had happened, he expressed great +astonishment, jeered at the notion that he had had anything to do with +the murder, and, without going on to his own door, offered voluntarily +to walk straight to the police-station.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>But when Miss Pett—who had discarded her red and yellow turban, and +appeared in rusty black garments which accentuated the old-ivory tint of +her remarkable countenance—had come into the witness-box and answered a +few common-place questions as to the dead man's movements on the +previous evening, Brereton prepared himself for the episode which he +knew to be important. Amidst a deep silence—something suggesting to +everybody that Mr. Bent's sharp-looking London friend was about to get +at things—he put his first question to Miss Pett.</p> + +<p>"How long have you known Mr. Kitely?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since I engaged with him as his housekeeper," answered Miss Pett.</p> + +<p>"How long since is that?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Nine to ten years—nearly ten."</p> + +<p>"You have been with him, as housekeeper, nearly ten +years—continuously?"</p> + +<p>"Never left him since I first came to him."</p> + +<p>"Where did you first come to him—where did he live then?"</p> + +<p>"In London."</p> + +<p>"Yes—and where, in London?"</p> + +<p>"83, Acacia Grove, Camberwell."</p> + +<p>"You lived with Mr. Kitely at 83, Acacia Grove, Camberwell, from the +time you became his housekeeper until now—nearly ten years in all. So +we may take it that you knew Mr. Kitely very well indeed?"</p> + +<p>"As well as anybody could know—him," replied Miss Pett, grimly. "He +wasn't the sort that's easy to know."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>"Still, you knew him for ten years. Now," continued Brereton, +concentrating his gaze on Miss Pett's curious features, "who and what +was Mr. Kitely?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett drummed her black-gloved fingers on the edge of the +witness-box and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered. "I never have known."</p> + +<p>"But you must have some idea, some notion—after ten years' +acquaintanceship! Come now. What did he do with himself in London? Had +he no business?"</p> + +<p>"He had business," said Miss Pett. "He was out most of the day at it. I +don't know what it was."</p> + +<p>"Never mentioned it to you?"</p> + +<p>"Never in his life."</p> + +<p>"Did you gain no idea of it? For instance, did it take him out at +regular hours?"</p> + +<p>"No, it didn't. Sometimes he'd go out very early—sometimes late—some +days he never went out at all. And sometimes he'd be out at night—and +away for days together. I never asked him anything, of course."</p> + +<p>"Whatever it was, he retired from it eventually?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—just before we came here."</p> + +<p>"Do you know why Mr. Kitely came here?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Pett, "he'd always said he wanted a nice little place +in the country, and preferably in the North. He came up this way for a +holiday some months since, and when he got back he said he'd found just +the house and neighbourhood to suit him, so, of course, we removed here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>"And you have been here—how long?"</p> + +<p>"Just over three months."</p> + +<p>Brereton let a moment or two elapse before he asked his next question, +which was accompanied by another searching inspection of the witness.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about Mr. Kitely's relations?"</p> + +<p>"No!" answered Miss Pett. "And for a simple reason. He always said he +had none."</p> + +<p>"He was never visited by anybody claiming to be a relation?"</p> + +<p>"Not during the ten years I knew him."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he had property—money—to leave to anybody?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett began to toy with the fur boa which depended from her thin +neck.</p> + +<p>"Well—yes, he said he had," she replied hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear him say what would become of it at his death?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett looked round the court and smiled a little.</p> + +<p>"Well," she answered, still more hesitatingly, "he—he always said that +as he'd no relations of his own, he'd leave it to me."</p> + +<p>Brereton leaned a little closer across the table towards the witness-box +and dropped his voice.</p> + +<p>"Do you know if Mr. Kitely ever made a will?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Miss Pett. "He did."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Just before we left London."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>"Do you know the contents of that will?"</p> + +<p>"No!" said Miss Pett. "I do not—so there!"</p> + +<p>"Did you witness it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where it is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that."</p> + +<p>"Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"My nephew has it," replied Miss Pett. "He's a solicitor, and he made +it."</p> + +<p>"What is your nephew's name and address?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Christopher Pett, 23<span class="smcap">b</span> Cursitor Street," answered Miss Pett, readily +enough.</p> + +<p>"Have you let him know of Mr. Kitely's death?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I sent him a telegram first thing this morning."</p> + +<p>"Asking him to bring the will?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not!" exclaimed Miss Pett, indignantly. "I never mentioned +the will. Mr. Kitely was very fond of my nephew—he considered him a +very clever young man."</p> + +<p>"We shall, no doubt, have the pleasure of seeing your nephew," remarked +Brereton. "Well, now, I want to ask you a question or two about +yourself. What had you been before you became housekeeper to Mr. +Kitely?"</p> + +<p>"Housekeeper to another gentleman!" replied Miss Pett, acidly.</p> + +<p>"Who was he?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you want to know, he was a Major Stilman, a retired +officer—though what that has——"</p> + +<p>"Where did Major Stilman live?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>"He lived at Kandahar Cottage, Woking," replied Miss Pett, who was now +showing signs of rising anger. "But——"</p> + +<p>"Answer my questions, if you please, and don't make remarks," said +Brereton. "Is Major Stilman alive?"</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't—he's dead this ten years," answered Miss Pett. "And if +you're going to ask me any more questions about who and what I am, young +man, I'll save you the trouble. I was with Major Stilman a many years, +and before that I was store-keeper at one London hotel, and linen-keeper +at another, and before that I lived at home with my father, who was a +respectable farmer in Sussex. And what all this has to do with what +we're here for, I should like——"</p> + +<p>"Just give me the names of the two hotels you were at in London, will +you?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"One was the <i>Royal Belvedere</i> in Bayswater, and the other the <i>Mervyn +Crescent</i> in Kensington," replied Miss Pett. "Highly respectable, both +of 'em."</p> + +<p>"And you come originally from—where in Sussex?"</p> + +<p>"Oakbarrow Farm, near Horsham. Do you want to know any——"</p> + +<p>"I shan't trouble you much longer," said Brereton suavely. "But you +might just tell me this—has Mr. Kitely ever had any visitors since he +came to Highmarket?"</p> + +<p>"Only one," answered Miss Pett. "And it was my nephew, who came up for a +week-end to see him on business. Of course, I don't know what the +business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> was. Mr. Kitely had property in London; house-property, +and——"</p> + +<p>"And your nephew, as his solicitor, no doubt came to see him about it," +interrupted Brereton. "Thank you, Miss Pett—I don't want to trouble you +any more."</p> + +<p>He sat down as the housekeeper left the witness-box—confident that he +had succeeded in introducing a new atmosphere into the case. Already +there were whisperings going on in the crowded court; he felt that these +country folk, always quick to form suspicions, were beginning to ask +themselves if there was not something dark and sinister behind the +mystery of Kitely's murder, and he was callous enough—from a purely +professional standpoint—to care nothing if they began to form ideas +about Miss Pett. For Brereton knew that nothing is so useful in the +breaking-down of one prejudice as to set up another, and his great +object just then was to divert primary prejudice away from his client. +Nevertheless, nothing, he knew well, could at that stage prevent +Harborough's ultimate committal—unless Harborough himself chose to +prove the <i>alibi</i> of which he had boasted. But Harborough refused to do +anything towards that, and when the case had been adjourned for a week, +and the prisoner removed to a cell pending his removal to Norcaster +gaol, a visit from Brereton and Avice in company failed to move him.</p> + +<p>"It's no good, my girl; it's no good, sir," he said, when both had +pleaded with him to speak. "I'm determined! I shall not say where I was last night."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>"Tell me—in secret—and then leave me to make use of the knowledge, +also in secret," urged Brereton.</p> + +<p>"No, sir—once for all, no!" answered Harborough. "There's no necessity. +I may be kept locked up for a bit, but the truth about this matter'll +come out before ever I'm brought to trial—or ought to be. Leave me +alone—I'm all right. All that bothers me now, my girl, is—you!"</p> + +<p>"Then don't bother," said Avice. "I'm going to stay with Mrs. Northrop. +They've insisted on it."</p> + +<p>Brereton was going out of the cell, leaving father and daughter +together, when he suddenly turned back.</p> + +<p>"You're a man of sense, Harborough," he said. "Come, now—have you got +anything to suggest as to how you can be helped?"</p> + +<p>Harborough smiled and gave his counsel a knowing look.</p> + +<p>"Aye, sir!" he answered. "The best suggestion you could get. If you want +to find out who killed Kitely—go back! Go back, sir—go inch by inch, +through Kitely's life!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE HOLE IN THE THATCH</h3> + +<p>Bent, taking his guest home to dinner after the police-court +proceedings, showed a strong and encouraging curiosity. He, in common +with all the rest of the townsfolk who had contrived to squeeze into the +old court-house, had been immensely interested in Brereton's examination +of Miss Pett. Now he wanted to know what it meant, what it signified, +what was its true relation to the case?</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you suspect that queer old atomy of a +woman!" he exclaimed incredulously as they sat down to Bent's bachelor +table. "And yet—you really looked as if you did—and contrived to throw +something very like it into your voice, too! Man, alive!—half the +Highmarket wiseacres'll be sitting down to their roast mutton at this +minute in the full belief that Miss Pett strangled her master!"</p> + +<p>"Well, and why not?" asked Brereton, coolly. "Surely, if you face facts, +there's just as much reason to suspect Miss Pett as there is to suspect +Harborough. They're both as innocent as you are, in all probability. +Granted there's some nasty evidence against Harborough, there's also the +presumption—founded on words from her own lips—that Miss Pett expects +to benefit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> by this old man's death. She's a strong and wiry woman, and +you tell me Kitely was getting somewhat enfeebled—she might have killed +him, you know. Murders, my dear fellow, are committed by the most +unlikely people, and for curious reasons: they have been committed by +quite respectable females—like Miss Pett—for nothing but a mere whim."</p> + +<p>"Do you really suspect her?" demanded Bent. "That's what I want to +know."</p> + +<p>"That's what I shan't tell you," replied Brereton, with a good-humoured +laugh. "All I shall tell you is that I believe this murder to be either +an exceedingly simple affair, or a very intricate affair. Wait a +little—wait, for instance, until Mr. Christopher Pett arrives with that +will. Then we shall advance a considerable stage."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for Avice Harborough, anyway," remarked Bent, "and it's +utterly beyond me to imagine why her father can't say where he was last +night. I suppose there'd be an end of the case if he'd prove where he +was, eh?"</p> + +<p>"He'd have to account for every minute between nine and ten o'clock," +answered Brereton. "It would be no good, for instance, if we proved to a +jury that from say ten o'clock until five o'clock next morning, +Harborough was at—shall we say your county town, Norcaster. You may say +it would take Harborough an hour to get from here to Norcaster, and an +hour to return, and that would account for his whereabouts between nine +and ten last night, and between five and six this morning. That wouldn't +do—because, according to the evidence, Kitely left his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> house just +before nine o'clock, and he may have been killed immediately. Supposing +Harborough killed him at nine o'clock precisely, Harborough would even +then be able to arrive in Norcaster by ten. What we want to know, in +order to fully establish Harborough's innocence is—where was he, what +was he doing, from the moment he left his cottage last night until say a +quarter past nine, the latest moment at which, according to what the +doctor said, the murder could have been committed?"</p> + +<p>"Off on one of his poaching expeditions, I suppose," said Bent.</p> + +<p>"No—that's not at all likely," answered Brereton. "There's some very +strange mystery about that man, and I'll have to get at the truth of +it—in spite of his determined reticence! Bent!—I'm going to see this +thing right through! The Norcaster Assizes will be on next month, and of +course Harborough will be brought up then. I shall stop in this +neighbourhood and work out the case—it'll do me a lot of good in all +sorts of ways—experience—work—the interest in it—and the <i>kudos</i> I +shall win if I get my man off—as I will! So I shall unashamedly ask you +to give me house-room for that time."</p> + +<p>"Of course," replied Bent. "The house is yours—only too glad, old chap. +But what a queer case it is! I'd give something, you know, to know what +you really think about it."</p> + +<p>"I've not yet settled in my own mind what I do think about it," said +Brereton. "But I'll suggest a few things to you which you can think over +at your leisure. What motive could Harborough have had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> for killing +Kitely? There's abundant testimony in the town—from his daughter, from +neighbours, from tradesmen—that Harborough was never short of +money—he's always had more money than most men in his position are +supposed to have. Do you think it likely that he'd have killed Kitely +for thirty pounds? Again—does anybody of sense believe that a man of +Harborough's evident ability would have murdered his victim so clumsily +as to leave a direct clue behind him? Now turn to another side. Is it +not evident that if Miss Pett wanted to murder Kitely she'd excellent +chances of not only doing so, but of directing suspicion to another +person? She knew her master's habits—she knew the surroundings—she +knew where Harborough kept that cord—she is the sort of person who +could steal about as quietly as a cat. If—as may be established by the +will which her nephew has, and of which, in spite of all she affirmed, +or, rather, swore, she may have accurate knowledge—she benefits by +Kitely's death, is there not motive there? Clearly, Miss Pett is to be +suspected!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that she'd kill old Kitely just to get +possession of the bit he had to leave?" asked Bent incredulously. "Come, +now,—that's a stiff proposition."</p> + +<p>"Not to me," replied Brereton. "I've known of a case in which a young +wife carefully murdered an old husband because she was so eager to get +out of the dull life she led with him that she couldn't wait a year or +two for his natural decease; I've heard of a case in which an elderly +woman poisoned her twin-sister, so that she could inherit her share of +an estate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> and go to live in style at Brighton. I don't want to do Miss +Pett any injustice, but I say that there are grounds for suspecting +her—and they may be widened."</p> + +<p>"Then it comes to this," said Bent. "There are two people under +suspicion: Harborough's suspected by the police—Miss Pett's suspected +by you. And it may be, and probably is, the truth that both are entirely +innocent. In that case, who's the guilty person?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, who indeed?" assented Brereton, half carelessly. "That is a +question. But my duty is to prove that my client is not guilty. And as +you're going to attend to your business this afternoon, I'll do a little +attending to mine by thinking things over."</p> + +<p>When Bent had gone away to the town, Brereton lighted a cigar, stretched +himself in an easy chair in front of a warm fire in his host's +smoking-room, and tried to think clearly. He had said to Bent all that +was in his mind about Harborough and about Miss Pett—but he had said +nothing, had been determined to say nothing, about a curious thought, an +unformed, vague suspicion which was there. It was that as yet formless +suspicion which occupied all his mental powers now—he put Harborough +and Miss Pett clean away from him.</p> + +<p>And as he sat there, he asked himself first of all—why had this curious +doubt about two apparently highly-respectable men of this little, +out-of-the-world town come into his mind? He traced it back to its first +source—Cotherstone. Brereton was a close observer of men; it was his +natural instinct to observe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> and he was always giving it a further +training and development. He had felt certain as he sat at supper with +him, the night before, that Cotherstone had something in his thoughts +which was not of his guests, his daughter, or himself. His whole +behaviour suggested pre-occupation, occasional absent-mindedness: once +or twice he obviously did not hear the remarks which were addressed to +him. He had certainly betrayed some curious sort of confusion when +Kitely's name was mentioned. And he had manifested great astonishment, +been much upset, when Garthwaite came in with the news of Kitely's +death.</p> + +<p>Now here came in what Brereton felt to be the all-important, the +critical point of this, his first attempt to think things out. He was +not at all sure that Cotherstone's astonishment on hearing Garthwaite's +announcement was not feigned, was not a piece of pure acting. Why? He +smiled cynically as he answered his own question. The answer +was—<i>Because when Cotherstone, Garthwaite, Bent, and Brereton set out +from Cotherstone's house to look at the dead man's body, Cotherstone led +the way straight to it</i>.</p> + +<p>How did Cotherstone know exactly where, in that half-mile of wooded +hill-side, the murder had been committed of which he had only heard five +minutes before? Yet, he led them all to within a few yards of the dead +man, until he suddenly checked himself, thrust the lantern into +Garthwaite's hands and said that of course he didn't know where the body +was! Now might not that really mean, when fully analyzed, that even if +Cotherstone did not kill Kitely himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> during the full hour in which +he was absent from his house he knew that Kitely had been killed, and +where—and possibly by whom?</p> + +<p>Anyway, here were certain facts—and they had to be reckoned with. +Kitely was murdered about a quarter-past nine o'clock. Cotherstone was +out of his house from ten minutes to nine o'clock until five minutes to +ten. He was clearly excited when he returned: he was more excited when +he went with the rest of them up the wood. Was it not probable that +under the stress of that excitement he forgot his presence of mind, and +mechanically went straight to the all-important spot?</p> + +<p>So much for that. But there was something more. Mallalieu was +Cotherstone's partner. Mallalieu went to Northrop's house to play cards +at ten o'clock. It might be well to find out, quietly, what Mallalieu +was doing with himself up to ten o'clock. But the main thing was—what +was Cotherstone doing during that hour of absence? And—had Cotherstone +any reason—of his own, or shared with his partner—for wishing to get +rid of Kitely?</p> + +<p>Brereton sat thinking all these things over until he had finished his +cigar; he then left Bent's house and strolled up into the woods of the +Shawl. He wanted to have a quiet look round the scene of the murder. He +had not been up there since the previous evening; it now occurred to him +that it would be well to see how the place looked by daylight. There was +no difficulty about finding the exact spot, even in those close coverts +of fir and pine; a thin line of inquisitive sightseers was threading its +way up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Shawl in front of him, each of its units agog to see the +place where a fellow-being had been done to death.</p> + +<p>But no one could get at the precise scene of the murder. The police had +roped a portion of the coppice off from the rest, and two or three +constables in uniform were acting as guards over this enclosed space, +while a couple of men in plain clothes, whom Brereton by that time knew +to be detectives from Norcaster, were inside it, evidently searching the +ground with great care. Round and about the fenced-in portion stood +townsfolk, young and old, talking, speculating, keenly alive to the +goings-on, hoping that the searchers would find something just then, so +that they themselves could carry some sensational news back to the town +and their own comfortable tea-tables. Most of them had been in or +outside the Court House that morning and recognized Brereton and made +way for him as he advanced to the ropes. One of the detectives +recognized him, too, and invited him to step inside.</p> + +<p>"Found anything?" asked Brereton, who was secretly wondering why the +police should be so foolish as to waste time in a search which was +almost certain to be non-productive.</p> + +<p>"No, sir—we've been chiefly making out for certain where the actual +murder took place before the dead man was dragged behind that rock," +answered the detective. "As far as we can reckon from the disturbance of +these pine needles, the murderer must have sprung on Kitely from behind +that clump of gorse—there where it's grown to such a height—and then +dragged him here, away from that bit of a path.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> No—we've found +nothing. But I suppose you've heard of the find at Harborough's +cottage?"</p> + +<p>"No!" exclaimed Brereton, startled out of his habitual composure. "What +find?"</p> + +<p>"Some of our people made a search there as soon as the police-court +proceedings were over," replied the detective. "It was the first chance +they'd had of doing anything systematically. They found the bank-notes +which Kitely got at the Bank yesterday evening, and a quantity of +letters and papers that we presume had been in that empty pocket-book. +They were all hidden in a hole in the thatch of Harborough's shed."</p> + +<p>"Where are they?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Down at the police-station—the superintendent has them," answered the +detective. "He'd show you them, sir, if you care to go down."</p> + +<p>Brereton went off to the police-station at once and was shown into the +superintendent's office without delay. That official immediately drew +open a drawer of his desk and produced a packet folded in brown paper.</p> + +<p>"I suppose this is what you want to see, Mr. Brereton," he said. "I +guess you've heard about the discovery? Shoved away in a rat-hole in the +thatch of Harborough's shed these were, sir—upon my honour, I don't +know what to make of it! You'd have thought that a man of Harborough's +sense and cleverness would never have put these things there, where they +were certain to be found."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe Harborough did put them there," said Brereton. "But +what are they?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>The superintendent motioned his visitor to sit by him and then opened +the papers out on his desk.</p> + +<p>"Not so much," he answered. "Three five-pound notes—I've proved that +they're those which poor Kitely got at the bank yesterday. A number of +letters—chiefly about old books, antiquarian matters, and so +forth—some scraps of newspaper cuttings, of the same nature. And this +bit of a memorandum book, that fits that empty pocket-book we found, +with pencil entries in it—naught of any importance. Look 'em over, if +you like, Mr. Brereton. I make nothing out of 'em."</p> + +<p>Brereton made nothing out either, at first glance. The papers were just +what the superintendent described them to be, and he went rapidly +through them without finding anything particularly worthy of notice. But +to the little memorandum book he gave more attention, especially to the +recent entries. And one of these, made within the last three months, +struck him as soon as he looked at it, insignificant as it seemed to be. +It was only of one line, and the one line was only of a few initials, an +abbreviation or two, and a date: <i>M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81</i>. And why +this apparently innocent entry struck Brereton was because he was still +thinking as an under-current to all this, of Mallalieu and +Cotherstone—and M. and C. were certainly the initials of those not too common names.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTOPHER PETT</h3> + +<p>The two men sat staring silently at the paper-strewn desk for several +moments; each occupied with his own thoughts. At last the superintendent +began to put the several exhibits together, and he turned to Brereton +with a gesture which suggested a certain amount of mental impatience.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing in all this that I can't understand, sir," he said. +"And it's this—it's very evident that whoever killed Kitely wanted the +papers that Kitely carried in that pocket-book. Why did he take 'em out +of the pocket-book and throw the pocket-book away? I don't know how that +strikes you—but it licks me, altogether!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Brereton, "it's puzzling—certainly. You'd think that the +murderer would have carried off the pocket-book, there and then. That he +took the papers from it, threw the pocket-book itself away, and then +placed the papers—or some of them—where your people have just found +them—in Harborough's shed—seems to me to argue something which is even +more puzzling. I daresay you see what I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say that I do, sir," answered the superintendent. "I haven't had +much experience in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> sort of work, you know, Mr. Brereton—it's a +good bit off our usual line. What do you mean, then?"</p> + +<p>"Why," replied Brereton, laughing a little, "I mean this—it looks as if +the murderer had taken his time about his proceedings!—after Kitely was +killed. The pocket-book, as you know, was picked up close to the body. +It was empty—as we all saw. Now what can we infer from that but that +the murderer actually stopped by his victim to examine the papers? And +in that case he must have had a light. He may have carried an electric +torch. Let's try and reconstruct the affair. We'll suppose that the +murderer, whoever he was, was so anxious to find some paper that he +wanted, and that he believed Kitely to have on him, that he immediately +examined the contents of the pocket-book. He turned on his electric +torch and took all the papers out of the pocket-book, laying the +pocket-book aside. He was looking through the papers when he heard a +sound in the neighbouring coppices or bushes. He immediately turned off +his light, made off with the papers, and left the empty case—possibly +completely forgetting its existence for the moment. How does that strike +you—as a theory?"</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," replied the superintendent. "Very good—but it is only +a theory, you know, Mr. Brereton."</p> + +<p>Brereton rose, with another laugh.</p> + +<p>"Just so," he said. "But suppose you try to reduce it to practice? In +this way—you no doubt have tradesmen in this town who deal in such +things as electric torches. Find out—in absolute secrecy—if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> any of +them have sold electric torches of late to any one in the town, and if +so, to whom. For I'm certain of this—that pocket-book and its contents +was examined on the spot, and that examination could only have been made +with a light, and an electric torch would be the handiest means of +providing that light. And so—so you see how even a little clue like +that might help, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I'll see to it," assented the superintendent. "Well, it's all very +queer, sir, and I'm getting more than ever convinced that we've laid +hands on the wrong man. And yet—what could, and what can we do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, at present," replied Brereton. "Let matters develop. +They're only beginning."</p> + +<p>He went away then, not to think about the last subject of conversation, +but to take out his own pocket-book as soon as he was clear of the +police-station, and to write down that entry which he had seen in +Kitely's memoranda:—<i>M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81</i>. And again he was struck +by the fact that the initials were those of Mallalieu and Cotherstone, +and again he wondered what they meant. They might have no reference +whatever to the Mayor and his partner—but under the circumstances it +was at any rate a curious coincidence, and he had an overwhelming +intuition that something lay behind that entry. But—what?</p> + +<p>That evening, as Bent and his guest were lighting their cigars after +dinner, Bent's parlour-maid came into the smoking-room with a card. Bent +glanced from it to Brereton with a look of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Christopher Pett!" he exclaimed. "What on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> earth does he want me +for? Bring Mr. Pett in here, anyway," he continued, turning to the +parlour-maid. "Is he alone?—or is Miss Pett with him?"</p> + +<p>"The police-superintendent's with him, sir," answered the girl. "They +said—could they see you and Mr. Brereton for half an hour, on +business?"</p> + +<p>"Bring them both in, then," said Bent. He looked at Brereton again, with +more interrogation. "Fresh stuff, eh?" he went on. "Mr. Christopher +Pett's the old dragon's nephew, I suppose. But what can he want +with—oh, well, I guess he wants you—I'm the audience."</p> + +<p>Brereton made no reply. He was watching the door. And through it +presently came a figure and face which he at once recognized as those of +an undersized, common-looking, sly-faced little man whom he had often +seen about the Law Courts in London, and had taken for a solicitor's +clerk. He looked just as common and sly as ever as he sidled into the +smoking-room, removing his silk hat with one hand and depositing a brief +bag on the table with the other, and he favoured Brereton with a sickly +grin of recognition after he had made a bow to the master of the house. +That done he rubbed together two long and very thin white hands and +smiled at Brereton once more.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Mr. Brereton," he said in a thin, wheedling voice. "I've +no doubt you've seen me before, sir?—I've seen you often—round about +the Courts, Mr. Brereton—though I've never had the pleasure of putting +business in your way—as yet, Mr. Brereton, as yet, sir! But——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>Brereton, to whom Bent had transferred Mr. Christopher Pett's card, +glanced again at it, and from it to its owner.</p> + +<p>"I see your address is that of Messrs. Popham & Pilboody in Cursitor +Street, Mr. Pett," he observed frigidly. "Any connection with that +well-known firm?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Pett rubbed his hands, and taking the chair which Bent silently +indicated, sat down and pulled his trousers up about a pair of bony +knees. He smiled widely, showing a set of curiously shaped teeth.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Popham, sir," he answered softly, "has always been my very good +friend. I entered Mr. Popham's service, sir, at an early age. Mr. +Popham, sir, acted very handsomely by me. He gave me my articles, sir. +And when I was admitted—two years ago, Mr. Brereton—Messrs. Popham & +Pilboody gave me—very generously—an office in their suite, so that I +could have my name up, and do a bit on my own, sir. Oh yes!—I'm +connected—intimately—with that famous firm, Mr. Brereton!"</p> + +<p>There was an assurance about Mr. Pett, a cocksureness of demeanour, a +cheerful confidence in himself, which made Brereton long to kick him; +but he restrained his feelings and said coldly that he supposed Mr. Pett +wished to speak to Mr. Bent and himself on business.</p> + +<p>"Not on my own business, sir," replied Pett, laying his queer-looking +white fingers on his brief bag. "On the business of my esteemed feminine +relative, Miss Pett. I am informed, Mr. Brereton—no offence, sir, oh, +none whatever!—that you put some—no doubt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> necessary—questions to +Miss Pett at the court this morning which had the effect of prejudicing +her in the eyes—or shall we say ears?—of those who were present. Miss +Pett accordingly desires that I, as her legal representative, should +lose no time in putting before you the true state of the case as regards +her relations with Kitely, deceased, and I accordingly, sir, in the +presence of our friend, the superintendent, whom I have already spoken +to outside, desire to tell you what the truth is. Informally, you +understand, Mr. Brereton, informally!"</p> + +<p>"Just as you please," answered Brereton. "All this is, as you say, +informal."</p> + +<p>"Quite informal, sir," agreed Pett, who gained in cheerfulness with +every word. "Oh, absolutely so. Between ourselves, of course. But it'll +be all the pleasanter if you know. My aunt, Miss Pett, naturally does +not wish, Mr. Brereton, that any person—hereabouts or elsewhere—should +entertain such suspicions of her as you seemed—I speak, sir, from +information furnished—to suggest, in your examination of her today. And +so, sir, I wish to tell you this. I acted as legal adviser to the late +Mr. Kitely. I made his will. I have that will in this bag. And—to put +matters in a nutshell, Mr. Brereton—there is not a living soul in this +world who knows the contents of that will but—your humble and +obedient!"</p> + +<p>"Do you propose to communicate the contents of the late Mr. Kitely's +will to us?" asked Brereton, drily.</p> + +<p>"I do, sir," replied Mr. Pett. "And for this reason. My relative—Miss +Pett—does not know what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> Mr. Kitely's profession had been, nor what Mr. +Kitely died possessed of. She does not know—anything! And she will not +know until I read this will to her after I have communicated the gist of +it to you. And I will do that in a few words. The late Mr. Kitely, sir, +was an ex-member of the detective police force. By dint of economy and +thrift he had got together a nice little property—house-property, in +London—Brixton, to be exact. It is worth about one hundred and fifty +pounds per annum. And—to cut matters short—he has left it absolutely +to Miss Pett. I myself, Mr. Brereton, am sole executor. If you desire to +see the will, sir, you, or Mr. Bent, or the superintendent, are at +liberty to inspect it."</p> + +<p>Brereton waved the proffered document aside and got up from his chair.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Mr. Pett," he said. "I've no desire to see Mr. Kitely's +will. I quite accept all that you say about it. You, as a lawyer, know +very well that whatever I asked Miss Pett this morning was asked in the +interests of my client. No—you can put the will away as far as I'm +concerned. You've assured me that Miss Pett is as yet in ignorance of +its contents, and—I take your word. I think, however, that Miss Pett +won't be exactly surprised."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I daresay my aunt has a pretty good idea, Mr. Brereton," agreed +Pett, who having offered the will to both Bent and the superintendent, +only to meet with a polite refusal from each, now put it back in his +bag. "We all of us have some little idea which quarter the wind's in, +you know, sir, in these cases. Of course, Kitely, deceased, had no +relatives, Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> Brereton: in fact, so far as Miss Pett and self are +aware, beyond ourselves, he'd no friends."</p> + +<p>"I was going to ask you a somewhat pertinent question, Mr. Pett," said +Brereton. "Quite an informal one, you know. Do you think he had any +enemies?"</p> + +<p>Pett put his long white fingers together and inclined his head to one +side. His slit of a mouth opened slightly, and his queer teeth showed +themselves in a sly grin.</p> + +<p>"Just so!" he said. "Of course, I take your meaning, Mr. Brereton. +Naturally, you'd think that a man of his profession would make enemies. +No doubt there must be a good many persons who'd have been glad—had he +still been alive—to have had their knives into him. Oh, yes! +But—unfortunately, I don't know of 'em, sir."</p> + +<p>"Never heard him speak of anybody who was likely to cherish revenge, +eh?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Never, sir! Kitely, deceased," remarked Pett, meditatively, "was not +given to talking of his professional achievements. I happen to know that +he was concerned in some important cases in his time—but he rarely, if +ever, mentioned them to me. In fact, I may say, gentlemen," he continued +in a palpable burst of confidence, "I may say, between ourselves, that +I'd had the honour of Mr. K.'s acquaintance for some time before ever I +knew what his line of business had been! Fact!"</p> + +<p>"A close man, eh?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"One of the very closest," replied Pett. "Yes, you may say that, sir."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>"Not likely to let things out, I suppose?" continued Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Not he! He was a regular old steel trap, Kitely was—shut tight!" said +Pett.</p> + +<p>"And—I suppose you've no theory, no idea of your own about his murder?" +asked Brereton, who was watching the little man closely. "Have you +formed any ideas or theories?"</p> + +<p>Pett half-closed his eyes as he turned them on his questioner.</p> + +<p>"Too early!" he replied, with a shake of his head. "Much too early. I +shall—in due course. Meantime, there's another little commission I have +to discharge, and I may as well do it at once. There are two or three +trifling bequests in this will, gentlemen—one of 'em's to you, Mr. +Bent. It wasn't in the original will—that was made before Kitely came +to these parts. It's in a codicil—made when I came down here a few +weeks ago, on the only visit I ever paid to the old gentleman. He +desired, in case of his death, to leave you something—said you'd been +very friendly to him."</p> + +<p>"Very good of him, I'm sure," said Bent with a glance of surprise. "I'm +rather astonished to hear of it, though."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing much," remarked Pett, with a laugh as he drew from the +brief bag what looked like an old quarto account book, fastened by a +brass clasp. "It's a scrap-book that the old man kept—a sort of album +in which he pasted up all sorts of odds and ends. He thought you'd find +'em interesting. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> knowing of this bequest, sir, I thought I'd bring +the book down. You might just give me a formal receipt for its delivery, +Mr. Bent."</p> + +<p>Bent took his curious legacy and led Mr. Pett away to a writing-desk to +dictate a former of receipt. And as they turned away, the superintendent +signed to Brereton to step into a corner of the room with him.</p> + +<p>"You know what you said about that electric torch notion this afternoon, +sir?" he whispered. "Well, after you left me, I just made an +inquiry—absolutely secret, you know—myself. I went to Rellit, the +ironmonger—I knew that if such things had ever come into the town, it +'ud be through him, for he's the only man that's at all up-to-date. +And—I heard more than I expected to hear!"</p> + +<p>"What?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"I think there may be something in what you said," answered the +superintendent. "But, listen here—Rellit says he'd swear a solemn oath +that nobody but himself ever sold an electric torch in Highmarket. And +he's only sold to three persons—to the Vicar's son; to Mr. Mallalieu; +and to Jack Harborough!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>PARENTAL ANXIETY</h3> + +<p>For a moment Brereton and the superintendent looked at each other in +silence. Then Bent got up from his desk at the other side of the room, +and he and the little solicitor came towards them.</p> + +<p>"Keep that to yourself, then," muttered Brereton. "We'll talk of it +later. It may be of importance."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's this much to bear in mind," whispered the superintendent, +drawing back a little with an eye on the others. "Nothing of that sort +was found on your client! And he'd been out all night. That's worth +considering—from his standpoint, Mr. Brereton."</p> + +<p>Brereton nodded his assent and turned away with another warning glance. +And presently Pett and the superintendent went off, and Bent dropped +into his easy chair with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Queer sort of unexpected legacy!" he said. "I wonder if the old man +really thought I should be interested in his scrap-book?"</p> + +<p>"There may be a great deal that's interesting in it," remarked Brereton, +with a glance at the book, which Bent had laid aside on top of a +book-case.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> "Take care of it. Well, what did you think of Mr. +Christopher Pett?"</p> + +<p>"Cool hand, I should say," answered Bent. "But—what did you think of +him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've met Mr. Christopher Pett's sort before," said Brereton, drily. +"The Dodson & Fogg type of legal practitioner is by no means extinct. I +should much like to know a good deal more about his various dealings +with Kitely. We shall see and hear more about them, however—later on. +For the present there are—other matters."</p> + +<p>He changed the subject then—to something utterly apart from the murder +and its mystery. For the one topic which filled his own mind was also +the very one which he could not discuss with Bent. Had Cotherstone, had +Mallalieu anything to do with Kitely's death? That question was +beginning to engross all his attention: he thought more about it than +about his schemes for a successful defence of Harborough, well knowing +that his best way of proving Harborough's innocence lay in establishing +another man's guilt.</p> + +<p>"One would give a good deal," he said to himself, as he went to bed that +night, "if one could get a moment's look into Cotherstone's mind—or +into Mallalieu's either! For I'll swear that these two know +something—possibly congratulating themselves that it will never be +known to anybody else!"</p> + +<p>If Brereton could have looked into the minds of either of the partners +at this particular juncture he would have found much opportunity for +thought and reflection, of a curious nature. For both were keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>ing a +double watch—on the course of events on one hand; on each other, on the +other hand. They watched the police-court proceedings against Harborough +and saw, with infinite relief, that nothing transpired which seemed +inimical to themselves. They watched the proceedings at the inquest held +on Kitely; they, too, yielded nothing that could attract attention in +the way they dreaded. When several days had gone by and the police +investigations seemed to have settled down into a concentrated purpose +against the suspected man, both Mallalieu and Cotherstone believed +themselves safe from discovery—their joint secret appeared to be well +buried with the old detective. But the secret was keenly and vividly +alive in their own hearts, and when Mallalieu faced the truth he knew +that he suspected Cotherstone, and when Cotherstone put things squarely +to himself he knew that he suspected Mallalieu. And the two men got to +eyeing each other furtively, and to addressing each other curtly, and +when they happened to be alone there was a heavy atmosphere of mutual +dislike and suspicion between them.</p> + +<p>It was a strange psychological fact that though these men had been +partners for a period covering the most important part of their lives, +they had next to nothing in common. They were excellent partners in +business matters; Mallalieu knew Cotherstone, and Cotherstone knew +Mallalieu in all things relating to the making of money. But in taste, +temperament, character, understanding, they were as far apart as the +poles. This aloofness when tested further by the recent discomposing +events manifested itself in a dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>inclination to confidence. Mallalieu, +whatever he thought, knew very well that he would never say what he +thought to Cotherstone; Cotherstone knew precisely the same thing with +regard to Mallalieu. But this silence bred irritation, and as the days +went by the irritation became more than Cotherstone could bear. He was a +highly-strung, nervous man, quick to feel and to appreciate, and the +averted looks and monosyllabic remarks and replies of a man into whose +company he could not avoid being thrown began to sting him to something +like madness. And one day, left alone in the office with Mallalieu when +Stoner the clerk had gone to get his dinner, the irritation became +unbearable, and he turned on his partner in a sudden white heat of +ungovernable and impotent anger.</p> + +<p>"Hang you!" he hissed between his set teeth. "I believe you think I did +that job! And if you do, blast you, why don't you say so, and be done +with it?"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu, who was standing on the hearth, warming his broad back at the +fire, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets and looked +half-sneeringly at his partner out of his screwed-up eyes.</p> + +<p>"I should advise you to keep yourself cool," he said with affected +quietness. "There's more than me'll think a good deal if you chance to +let yourself out like that."</p> + +<p>"You do think it!" reiterated Cotherstone passionately. "Damn it, d'ye +think I haven't noticed it? Always looking at me as if—as if——"</p> + +<p>"Now then, keep yourself calm," interrupted Mallalieu. "I can look at +you or at any other, in any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> way I like, can't I? There's no need to +distress yourself—I shan't give aught away. If you took it in your head +to settle matters—as they were settled—well, I shan't say a word. That +is unless—you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Understand what?" screamed Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>"Unless I'm obliged to," answered Mallalieu. "I should have to make it +clear that I'd naught to do with that particular matter, d'ye see? Every +man for himself's a sound principle. But—I see no need. I don't believe +there'll be any need. And it doesn't matter the value of that pen that's +shaking so in your hand to me if an innocent man suffers—if he's +innocent o' that, he's guilty o' something else. You're safe with me."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone flung the pen on the floor and stamped on it. And Mallalieu +laughed cynically and walked slowly across to the door.</p> + +<p>"You're a fool, Cotherstone," he said. "Go on a bit more like that, and +you'll let it all out to somebody 'at 'll not keep secrets as I can. +Cool yourself, man, cool yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Hang you!" shouted Cotherstone. "Mind I don't let something out about +you! Where were you that night, I should like to know? Or, rather, I do +know! You're no safer than I am! And if I told what I do know——"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu, with his hand on the latch, turned and looked his partner in +the face—without furtiveness, for once.</p> + +<p>"And if you told aught that you do, or fancy you know," he said quietly, +"there'd be ruin in your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> home, you soft fool! I thought you wanted +things kept quiet for your lass's sake? Pshaw!—you're taking leave o' +your senses!"</p> + +<p>He walked out at that, and Cotherstone, shaking with anger, relapsed +into a chair and cursed his fate. And after a time he recovered himself +and began to think, and his thoughts turned instinctively to Lettie.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu was right—of course, he was right! Anything that he, +Cotherstone, could say or do in the way of bringing up the things that +must be suppressed would ruin Lettie's chances. So, at any rate, it +seemed to him. For Cotherstone's mind was essentially a worldly one, and +it was beyond him to believe that an ambitious young man like Windle +Bent would care to ally himself with the daughter of an ex-convict. Bent +would have the best of excuses for breaking off all relations with the +Cotherstone family if the unpleasant truth came out. No!—whatever else +he did, he must keep his secret safe until Bent and Lettie were safely +married. That once accomplished, Cotherstone cared little about the +future: Bent could not go back on his wife. And so Cotherstone +endeavoured to calm himself, so that he could scheme and plot, and +before night came he paid a visit to his doctor, and when he went home +that evening, he had his plans laid.</p> + +<p>Bent was with Lettie when Cotherstone got home, and Cotherstone +presently got the two of them into a little snuggery which he kept +sacred to himself as a rule. He sat down in his easy chair, and signed +to them to sit near him.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I found you together," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> "There's something I want to +say. There's no call for you to be frightened, Lettie—but what I've got +to say is serious. And I'll put it straight—Bent'll understand. Now, +you'd arranged to get married next spring—six months hence. I want you +to change your minds, and to let it be as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>He looked with a certain eager wistfulness at Lettie, expecting to see +her start with surprise. But fond as he was of her, Cotherstone had so +far failed to grasp the later developments of his daughter's character. +Lettie Cotherstone was not the sort of young woman who allows herself to +be surprised by anything. She was remarkably level-headed, cool of +thought, well able to take care of herself in every way, and fully alive +to the possibilities of her union with the rising young manufacturer. +And instead of showing any astonishment, she quietly asked her father +what he meant.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," answered Cotherstone, greatly relieved to find that +both seemed inclined to talk matters quietly over. "It's this—I've not +been feeling as well as I ought to feel, lately. The fact is, Bent, I've +done too much in my time. A man can work too hard, you know—and it +tells on him in the end. So the doctor says, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"The doctor!" exclaimed Lettie. "You haven't been to him?"</p> + +<p>"Seen him this afternoon," replied Cotherstone. "Don't alarm yourself. +But that's what he says—naught wrong, all sound, but—it's time I +rested. Rest and change—complete change. And I've made up my mind—I'm +going to retire from business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> Why not? I'm a well-to-do man—better +off than most folks 'ud think. I shall tell Mallalieu tomorrow. Yes—I'm +resolved on it. And that done, I shall go and travel for a year or +two—I've always wanted to go round the world. I'll go—that for a +start, anyway. And the sooner the better, says the doctor. And——" here +he looked searchingly at his listeners—"I'd like to see you settled +before I go. What?"</p> + +<p>Lettie's calm and judicial character came out in the first words she +spoke. She had listened carefully to Cotherstone; now she turned to +Bent.</p> + +<p>"Windle," she said, as quietly as if she were asking the most casual of +questions, "wouldn't it upset all your arrangements for next year? You +see, father," she went on, turning to Cotherstone, "Windle had arranged +everything. He was going to have the whole of the spring and summer away +from business; we were going on the Continent for six months. And that +would have to be entirely altered and——"</p> + +<p>"We could alter it," interrupted Bent. He was watching Cotherstone +closely, and fancying that he saw a strained and eager look in his face, +he decided that Cotherstone was keeping something back, and had not told +them the full truth about his health.</p> + +<p>"It's all a matter of arrangement. I could arrange to go away during the +winter, Lettie."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to travel in winter," objected Lettie. "Besides—I've +made all my arrangements about my gowns and things."</p> + +<p>"That can be arranged, too," said Bent. "The dressmaker can work +overtime."</p> + +<p>"That'll mean that everything will be hurried—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> spoiled," replied +Lettie. "Besides, I've arranged everything with my bridesmaids. They +can't be expected to——"</p> + +<p>"We can do without bridesmaids," replied Bent, laying his hand on +Lettie's arm. "If your father really feels that he's got to have the +rest and the change he spoke of, and wants us to be married first, why, +then——"</p> + +<p>"But there's nothing to prevent you having a rest and a change now, +father," said Lettie. "Why not? I don't like my arrangements to be +altered—I had planned everything out so carefully. When we did fix on +next spring, Windle, I had only just time as it was!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" said Bent. "We could get married the day after tomorrow if we +wanted! Bridesmaids—gowns—all that sort of tomfoolery, what does it +matter?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't tomfoolery," retorted Lettie. "If I am to be married I should +like to be married properly."</p> + +<p>She got up, with a heightened colour and a little toss of her head, and +left the room, and the two men looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"Talk to her, my lad," said Cotherstone at last. "Of course, girls think +such a lot of—of all the accompaniments, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—it'll be all right," replied Bent. He tapped Cotherstone's +arm and gave him a searching look. "You're not keeping anything +back—about your health, are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone glanced at the door and sank his voice to a whisper.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>"It's my heart!" he answered. "Over-strained—much over-strained, the +doctor says. Rest and change—imperative! But—not a word to Lettie, +Bent. Talk her round—get it arranged. I shall feel safer—you +understand?"</p> + +<p>Bent was full of good nature, and though he understood to the full—it +was a natural thing, this anxiety of a father for his only child. He +promised to talk seriously to Lettie at once about an early wedding. And +that night he told Brereton of what had happened, and asked him if he +knew how special licences can be got, and Brereton informed him of all +he knew on that point—and kept silence about one which to him was +becoming deeply and seriously important.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE ANONYMOUS LETTER</h3> + +<p>Within a week of that night Brereton was able to sum things up, to take +stock, to put clearly before himself the position of affairs as they +related to his mysterious client. They had by that time come to a clear +issue: a straight course lay ahead with its ultimate stages veiled in +obscurity. Harborough had again been brought up before the Highmarket +magistrates, had stubbornly refused to give any definite information +about his exact doings on the night of Kitely's murder, and had been +duly committed for trial on the capital charge. On the same day the +coroner, after holding an inquest extending over two sittings, had +similarly committed him. There was now nothing to do but to wait until +the case came on at Norcaster Assizes. Fortunately, the assizes were +fixed for the middle of the ensuing month: Brereton accordingly had +three weeks wherein to prepare his defence—or (which would be an +eminently satisfactory equivalent) to definitely fix the guilt on some +other person.</p> + +<p>Christopher Pett, as legal adviser to the murdered man, had felt it his +duty to remain in Highmarket until the police proceedings and the +coroner's inquest were over. He had made himself conspicuous at both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +police-court and coroner's court, putting himself forward wherever he +could, asking questions wherever opportunity offered. Brereton's dislike +of him increased the more he saw of him; he specially resented Pett's +familiarity. But Pett was one of those persons who know how to combine +familiarity with politeness and even servility; to watch or hear him +talk to any one whom he button-holed was to gain a notion of his +veneration for them. He might have been worshipping Brereton when he +buttoned-holed the young barrister after Harborough had been finally +committed to take his trial.</p> + +<p>"Ah, he's a lucky man, that, Mr. Brereton!" observed Pett, collaring +Brereton in a corridor outside the crowded court. "Very fortunate man +indeed, sir, to have you take so much interest in him. Fancy you—with +all your opportunities in town, Mr. Brereton!—stopping down here, just +to defend that fellow out of—what shall we call it?—pure and simple +Quixotism! Quixotism!—I believe that's the correct term, Mr. Brereton. +Oh, yes—for the man's as good as done for. Not a cat's chance! He'll +swing, sir, will your client!"</p> + +<p>"Your simile is not a good one, Mr. Pett," retorted Brereton. "Cats are +said to have nine lives."</p> + +<p>"Cat, rat, mouse, dog—no chance whatever, sir," said Pett, cheerfully. +"I know what a country jury'll say. If I were a betting man, Mr. +Brereton—which I ain't, being a regular church attendant—I'd lay you +ten to one the jury'll never leave the box, sir!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>"No—I don't think they will—when the right man is put in the dock, Mr. +Pett," replied Brereton.</p> + +<p>Pett drew back and looked the young barrister in the face with an +expression that was half quizzical and half serious.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you really believe this fellow to be +innocent, Mr. Brereton?" he exclaimed. "You!—with your knowledge of +criminal proceedings! Oh, come now, Mr. Brereton—it's very kind of you, +very Quixotic, as I call it, but——"</p> + +<p>"You shall see," said Brereton and turned off. He had no mind to be more +than civil to Pett, and he frowned when Pett, in his eagerness, laid a +detaining hand on his gown. "I'm not going to discuss it, Mr. Pett," he +added, a little warmly. "I've my own view of the case."</p> + +<p>"But, but, Mr. Brereton—a moment!" urged Pett. "Just between ourselves +as—well, not as lawyers but as—as one gentleman to another. <i>Do</i> you +think it possible it was some other person? Do you now, really?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't your estimable female relative, as you call her, say that I +suggested she might be the guilty person?" demanded Brereton, +maliciously. "Come, now, Mr. Pett! You don't know all that I know!"</p> + +<p>Pett fell back, staring doubtfully at Brereton's curled lip, and +wondering whether to take him seriously or not. And Brereton laughed and +went off—to reflect, five minutes later, that this was no laughing +matter for Harborough and his daughter, and to plunge again into the +maze of thought out of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> it was so difficult to drag anything that +seemed likely to be helpful.</p> + +<p>He interviewed Harborough again before he was taken back to Norcaster, +and again he pressed him to speak, and again Harborough gave him a +point-blank refusal.</p> + +<p>"Not unless it comes to the very worst, sir," he said firmly, "and only +then if I see there's no other way—and even then it would only be for +my daughter's sake. But it won't come to that! There's three weeks +yet—good—and if somebody can't find out the truth in three weeks——"</p> + +<p>"Man alive!" exclaimed Brereton. "Your own common-sense ought to tell +you that in cases like this three years isn't enough to get at the +truth! What can I do in three weeks?"</p> + +<p>"There's not only you, sir," replied Harborough. "There's the +police—there's the detectives—there's——"</p> + +<p>"The police and the detectives are all doing their best to fasten the +crime on you!" retorted Brereton. "Of course they are! That's their way. +When they've safely got one man, do you think they're going to look for +another? If you won't tell me what you were doing, and where you were +that night, well, I'll have to find out for myself."</p> + +<p>Harborough gave his counsel a peculiar look which Brereton could not +understand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well!" he said. "If <i>you</i> found it out——"</p> + +<p>He broke off at that, and would say no more, and Brereton presently left +him and walked thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>fully homeward, reflecting on the prisoner's last +words.</p> + +<p>"He admits there is something to be found out," he mused. "And by that +very admission he implies that it could be found out. Now—how? +Egad!—I'd give something for even the least notion!"</p> + +<p>Bent's parlour-maid, opening the door to Brereton, turned to a locked +drawer in the old-fashioned clothes-press which stood in Bent's hall, +and took from it a registered letter.</p> + +<p>"For you, sir," she said, handing it to Brereton. "Came by the noon +post, sir. The housekeeper signed for it."</p> + +<p>Brereton took the letter into the smoking-room and looked at it with a +sudden surmise that it might have something to do with the matter which +was uppermost in his thoughts. He had had no expectation of any +registered letter, no idea of anything that could cause any +correspondent of his to send him any communication by registered post. +There was no possibility of recognizing the handwriting of the sender, +for there was no handwriting to recognize: the address was typewritten. +And the postmark was London.</p> + +<p>Brereton carefully cut open the flap of the envelope and drew out the +enclosure—a square sheet of typewriting paper folded about a thin wad +of Bank of England notes. He detached these at once and glanced quickly +at them. There were six of them: all new and crisp—and each was for a +hundred and fifty pounds.</p> + +<p>Brereton laid this money aside and opened the letter. This, too, was +typewritten: a mere glance at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> its termination showed that it was +anonymous. He sat down at Bent's desk and carefully read it through.</p> + +<p>There was no address: there was nothing beyond the postmark on the +envelope to show where the letter came from; there was absolutely +nothing in the contents to give any clue to the sender. But the wording +was clear and plain.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Gifford Brereton</span>,—Having learnt from the newspapers that you +are acting as counsel for John Harborough, charged with the murder +of a man named Kitely at Highmarket, I send you the enclosed £900 +to be used in furthering Harborough's defence. You will use it +precisely as you think fit. You are not to spare it nor any +endeavour to prove Harborough's innocence—which is known to the +sender. Whenever further funds are needed, all you need do is to +insert an advertisement in the personal column of <i>The Times</i> +newspaper in these words: <i>Highmarket Exchequer needs +replenishing</i>, with your initials added. Allow me to suggest that +you should at once offer a reward of £500 to whoever gives +information which will lead to the capture and conviction of the +real murderer or murderers. If this offer fails to bring +information speedily, double it. I repeat that no pains must be +spared in this matter, and that money to any amount is no object. +The sender of this letter will keep well informed of the progress +of events as narrated in the newspapers, to which you will please +to afford all proper information."</p></blockquote><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Brereton read this extraordinary communication through three times; then +he replaced letter and bank-notes in the envelope, put the envelope in +an inner pocket, left the house, and walking across to the Northrop +villa, asked to see Avice Harborough.</p> + +<p>Avice came to him in Mrs. Northrop's drawing-room, and Brereton glancing +keenly at her as she entered saw that she was looking worn and pale. He +put the letter into her hands with a mere word.</p> + +<p>"Your father has a powerful friend—somewhere," he said.</p> + +<p>To his astonishment the girl showed no very great surprise. She started +a little at the sight of the money; she flushed at one or two +expressions in the letter. But she read the letter through without +comment and handed it back to him with a look of inquiry.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem surprised!" said Brereton.</p> + +<p>"There has always been so much mystery to me about my father that I'm +not surprised," she replied. "No!—I'm just thankful! For this +man—whoever he is—says that my father's innocence is known to him. And +that's—just think what it means—to me!"</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't he come forward and prove it, then?" demanded Brereton.</p> + +<p>Avice shook her head.</p> + +<p>"He—they—want it to be proved without that," she answered. "But—don't +you think that if all else fails the man who wrote this would come +forward? Oh, surely!"</p> + +<p>Brereton stood silently looking at her for a full<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> minute. From the +first time of meeting with her he had felt strangely and strongly +attracted to his client's daughter, and as he looked at her now he began +to realize that he was perhaps more deeply interested in her than he +knew.</p> + +<p>"It's all the most extraordinary mystery—this about your father—that +ever I came across!" he exclaimed suddenly. Then he looked still more +closely at her. "You've been worrying!" he said impetuously. "Don't! I +beg you not to. I'll move heaven and earth—because I, personally, am +absolutely convinced of your father's innocence. And—here's powerful +help."</p> + +<p>"You'll do what's suggested here?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! It's a capital idea," he answered. "I'd have done it myself +if I'd been a rich man—but I'm not. Cheer up, now!—we're getting on +splendidly. Look here—ask Mrs. Northrop to let you come out with me. +We'll go to the solicitor—together—and see about that reward at once."</p> + +<p>As they presently walked down to the town Brereton gave Avice another of +his critical looks of inspection.</p> + +<p>"You're feeling better," he said in his somewhat brusque fashion. "Is it +this bit of good news?"</p> + +<p>"That—and the sense of doing something," she answered. "If I wasn't +looking well when you came in just now, it was because this inaction is +bad for me. I want to do something!—something to help. If I could only +be stirring—moving about. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Quite!" responded Brereton. "And there is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> something you can do. I saw +you on a bicycle the other day. Why not give up your teaching for a +while, and scour the country round about, trying to get hold of some +news about your father's movements that night? That he won't tell us +anything himself is no reason why we shouldn't find out something for +ourselves. He must have been somewhere—someone must have seen him! Why +not begin some investigation?—you know the district. How does that +strike you?"</p> + +<p>"I should be only too thankful," she said. "And I'll do it. The +Northrops are very kind—they'll understand, and they'll let me off. +I'll begin at once—tomorrow. I'll hunt every village between the sea +and the hills!"</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Brereton. "Some work of that sort, and this reward—ah, we +shall come out all right, you'll see."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what we should have done if it hadn't been for you!" said +Avice. "But—we shan't forget. My father is a strange man, Mr. Brereton, +but he's not the sort of man he's believed to be by these Highmarket +people—and he's grateful to you—as you'll see."</p> + +<p>"But I must do something to merit his gratitude first, you know," +replied Brereton. "Come!—I've done next to nothing as yet. But we'll +make a fresh start with this reward—if your father's solicitor +approves."</p> + +<p>The solicitor did approve—strongly. And he opened his eyes to their +widest extent when he read the anonymous letter and saw the bank-notes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>"Your father," he observed to Avice, "is the most mysterious man I ever +heard of! The Kitely mystery, in my opinion, is nothing to the +Harborough mystery. Do you really mean to tell me that you haven't an +idea of what all this means?"</p> + +<p>"Not an idea!" replied Avice. "Not the ghost of one."</p> + +<p>"Well—we'll get these posters and handbills out, anyway, Mr. Brereton," +said the solicitor. "Five hundred pounds is a good figure. Lord bless +you!—some of these Highmarket folk would sell their mothers for half +that! The whole population will be turned into amateur detectives. Now +let's draft the exact wording, and then we'll see the printer."</p> + +<p>Next day the bill-poster placarded Highmarket with the reward bills, and +distributed them broadcast in shops and offices, and one of the first +persons to lay hands on one was Mallalieu & Cotherstone's clerk, Herbert Stoner.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE SHEET OF FIGURES</h3> + +<p>At that time Stoner had been in the employment of Mallalieu and +Cotherstone for some five or six years. He was then twenty-seven years +of age. He was a young man of some ability—sharp, alert, quick at +figures, good at correspondence, punctual, willing: he could run the +business in the absence of its owners. The two partners appreciated +Stoner, and they had gradually increased his salary until it reached the +sum of two pounds twelve shillings and sixpence per week. In their +opinion a young single man ought to have done very well on that: +Mallalieu and Cotherstone had both done very well on less when they were +clerks in that long vanished past of which they did not care to think. +But Stoner was a young man of tastes. He liked to dress well. He liked +to play cards and billiards. He liked to take a drink or two at the +Highmarket taverns of an evening, and to be able to give his favourite +barmaids boxes of chocolate or pairs of gloves now and +then—judiciously. And he found his salary not at all too great, and he +was always on the look-out for a chance of increasing it.</p> + +<p>Stoner emerged from Mallalieu & Cotherstone's of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>fice at his usual hour +of half-past five on the afternoon of the day on which the reward bills +were put out. It was his practice to drop in at the Grey Mare Inn every +evening on his way to his supper, there to drink a half-pint of bitter +ale and hear the news of the day from various cronies who were to be met +with in the bar-parlour. As he crossed the street on this errand on this +particular evening, Postick, the local bill-poster, came hurrying out of +the printer's shop with a bundle of handbills under his arm, and as he +sped past Stoner, thrust a couple of them into the clerk's hand.</p> + +<p>"Here y'are, Mr. Stoner!" he said without stopping. "Something for you +to set your wits to work on. Five hundred reward—for a bit o' brain +work!"</p> + +<p>Stoner, who thought Postick was chaffing him, was about to throw the +handbills, still damp from the press, into the gutter which he was +stepping over. But in the light of an adjacent lamp he caught sight of +the word <i>Murder</i> in big staring capitals at the top of them. Beneath it +he caught further sight of familiar names—and at that he folded up the +bills, went into the Grey Mare, sat down in a quiet corner, and read +carefully through the announcement. It was a very simple one, and +plainly worded. Five hundred pounds would be paid by Mr. Tallington, +solicitor, of Highmarket, to any person or persons who would afford +information which would lead to the arrest and conviction of the +murderer or murderers of the deceased Kitely.</p> + +<p>No one was in the bar-parlour of the Grey Mare when Stoner first entered +it, but by the time he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> re-read the handbill, two or three men of +the town had come in, and he saw that each carried a copy. One of them, +a small tradesman whose shop was in the centre of the Market Square, +leaned against the bar and read the terms of the reward aloud.</p> + +<p>"And whose money might that be?" he asked, half-sneeringly. "Who's +throwing brass round in that free-handed fashion? I should want to know +if the money's safe before I wasted my time in trying to get it."</p> + +<p>"Money'll be all right," observed one of the speaker's companions. +"There's Lawyer Tallington's name at the foot o' that bill. He wouldn't +put his name to no offer o' that sort if he hadn't the brass in hand."</p> + +<p>"Whose money is it, then?" demanded the first speaker. "It's not a +Government reward. They say that Kitely had no relatives, so it can't be +them. And it can't be that old housekeeper of his, because they say +she's satisfied enough that Jack Harborough's the man, and they've got +him. Queer do altogether, I call it!"</p> + +<p>"It's done in Harborough's interest," said a third man. "Either that, or +there's something very deep in it. Somebody's not satisfied and +somebody's going to have a flutter with his brass over it." He turned +and glanced at Stoner, who had come to the bar for his customary +half-pint of ale. "Your folks aught to do with this?" he asked. "Kitely +was Mr. Cotherstone's tenant, of course."</p> + +<p>Stoner laughed scornfully as he picked up his tankard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>"Yes, I don't think!" he sneered. "Catch either of my governors wasting +five hundred pence, or five pence, in that way! Not likely!"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's Tallington's name to back it," said one of the men. "We +all know Tallington. What he says, he does. The money'll be there—if +it's earned."</p> + +<p>Then they all looked at each other silently, surmise and speculation in +the eyes of each.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what!" suddenly observed the little tradesman, as if struck +with a clever idea. "It might be young Bent! Five hundred pound is +naught to him. This here young London barrister that's defending +Harborough is stopping with Bent—they're old schoolmates. Happen he's +persuaded Bent to do the handsome: they say that this barrister chap's +right down convinced that Harborough's innocent. It must be Bent's +brass!"</p> + +<p>"What's Popsie say?" asked one of the younger members of the party, +winking at the barmaid, who, having supplied her customers' needs, was +leaning over a copy of the handbill which somebody had laid on the bar. +"Whose brass can it be, Popsie?"</p> + +<p>The barmaid stood up, seized a glass and a cloth, and began to polish +the glass with vigor.</p> + +<p>"What's Popsie say?" she repeated. "Why, what she says is that you're a +lot of donkeys for wasting your time in wondering whose brass it is. +What does it matter whose brass it is, so long as it's safe? What you +want to do is to try and earn it. You don't pick up five hundred pounds +every day!"</p> + +<p>"She's right!" said some man of the group.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> "But—how does anybody start +on to them games?"</p> + +<p>"There'll be plenty o' starters, for all that, my lads!" observed the +little tradesman. "Never you fear! There'll be candidates."</p> + +<p>Stoner drank off his ale and went away. Usually, being given to gossip, +he stopped chatting with anybody he chanced to meet until it was close +upon his supper-time. But the last remark sent him off. For Stoner meant +to be a starter, and he had no desire that anybody should get away in +front of him.</p> + +<p>The lodging in which Stoner kept his bachelor state was a quiet and +eminently respectable one. He had two small rooms, a parlour and a +bedchamber, in the house of a widow with whom he had lodged ever since +his first coming to Highmarket, nearly six years before. In the tiny +parlour he kept a few books and a writing-desk, and on those evenings +which he did not spend in playing cards or billiards, he did a little +intellectual work in the way of improving his knowledge of French, +commercial arithmetic, and business correspondence. And that night, his +supper being eaten, and the door closed upon his landlady, he lighted +his pipe, sat down to his desk, unlocked one of its drawers, and from an +old file-box drew out some papers. One of these, a half-sheet of ruled +foolscap, he laid in front of him, the rest he put back. And then, +propping his chin on his folded hands, Stoner gave that half-sheet a +long, speculative inspection.</p> + +<p>If anybody had looked over Stoner's shoulder they would have seen him +gazing at a mass of figures. The half-sheet of foolscap was covered with +figures: the figuring extended to the reverse side. And—what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> a +looker-on might not have known, but what Stoner knew very well—the +figures were all of Cotherstone's making—clear, plain, well-formed +figures. And amongst them, and on the margins of the half-sheet, and +scrawled here and there, as if purposelessly and carelessly, was one +word in Cotherstone's handwriting, repeated over and over again. That +word was—<i>Wilchester</i>.</p> + +<p>Stoner knew how that half-sheet of foolscap had come into his +possession. It was a half-sheet which he had found on Cotherstone's desk +when he went into the partners' private room to tidy things up on the +morning after the murder of Kitely. It lay there, carelessly tossed +aside amongst other papers of clearer meaning, and Stoner, after one +glance at it, had carefully folded it, placed it in his pocket, taken it +home, and locked it up, to be inspected at leisure.</p> + +<p>He had had his reasons, of course, for this abstraction of a paper which +rightfully belonged to Cotherstone. Those reasons were a little +difficult to explain to himself in one way; easy enough to explain, in +another. As regards the difficulty, Stoner had somehow or other got a +vague idea, that evening of the murder, that something was wrong with +Cotherstone. He had noticed, or thought he noticed, a queer look on old +Kitely's face when the ex-detective left the private room—it was a look +of quiet satisfaction, or triumph, or malice; any way, said Stoner, it +was something. Then there was the fact of Cotherstone's curious +abstraction when he, Stoner, entered and found his employer sitting in +the darkness, long after Kitely had gone—Cotherstone had said he was +asleep, but Stoner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> knew that to be a fib. Altogether, Stoner had gained +a vague feeling, a curious intuition, that there was something queer, +not unconnected with the visit of Cotherstone's new tenant, and when he +heard, next morning, of what had befallen Kitely, all his suspicions +were renewed.</p> + +<p>So much for the difficult reasons which had made him appropriate the +half-sheet of foolscap. But there was a reason which was not difficult. +It lay in the presence of that word <i>Wilchester</i>. If not of the finest +degree of intellect, Stoner was far from being a fool, and it had not +taken him very long to explain to himself why Cotherstone had scribbled +the name of that far-off south-country town all over that sheet of +paper, aimlessly, apparently without reason, amidst his figurings. <i>It +was uppermost in his thoughts at the time</i>—and as he sat there, pen in +hand, he had written it down, half-unconsciously, over and over +again.... There it was—<i>Wilchester</i>—Wilchester—Wilchester.</p> + +<p>The reiteration had a peculiar interest for Stoner. He had never heard +Cotherstone nor Mallalieu mention Wilchester at any time since his first +coming into their office. The firm had no dealings with any firm at +Wilchester. Stoner, who dealt with all the Mallalieu & Cotherstone +correspondence, knew that during his five and a half years' clerkship, +he had never addressed a single letter to any one at Wilchester, never +received a single letter bearing the Wilchester post-mark. Wilchester +was four hundred miles away, far off in the south; ninety-nine out of +every hundred persons in Highmarket had never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> heard the name of +Wilchester. But Stoner had—quite apart from the history books, and the +geography books, and map of England. Stoner himself was a Darlington +man. He had a close friend, a bosom friend, at Darlington, named +Myler—David Myler. Now David Myler was a commercial traveller—a smart +fellow of Stoner's age. He was in the service of a Darlington firm of +agricultural implement makers, and his particular round lay in the +market-towns of the south and south-west of England. He spent a +considerable part of the year in those districts, and Wilchester was one +of his principal headquarters: Stoner had many a dozen letters of +Myler's, which Myler had written to him from Wilchester. And only a year +before all this, Myler had brought home a bride in the person of a +Wilchester girl, the daughter of a Wilchester tradesman.</p> + +<p>So the name of Wilchester was familiar enough to Stoner. And now he +wanted to know what—what—what made it so familiar to Cotherstone that +Cotherstone absent-mindedly scribbled it all over a half-sheet of +foolscap paper?</p> + +<p>But the figures? Had they any connexion with the word? This was the +question which Stoner put to himself when he sat down that night in his +parlour to seriously consider if he had any chance of winning that five +hundred pounds reward. He looked at the figures again—more carefully. +The truth was that until that evening he had never given much attention +to those figures: it was the word Wilchester that had fascinated him. +But now, summoning all his by no means small arithmetical knowledge to +his aid,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> Stoner concentrated himself on an effort to discover what +those figures meant. That they were a calculation of some sort he had +always known—now he wanted to know of what.</p> + +<p>The solution of the problem came to him all of a sudden—as the solution +of arithmetical problems often does come. He saw the whole thing quite +plainly and wondered that he had not seen it at a first glance. The +figures represented nothing whatever but three plain and common sums—in +compound arithmetic. Cotherstone, for some reason of his own, had taken +the sum of two thousand pounds as a foundation, and had calculated (1st) +what thirty years' interest on that sum at three and a half per cent. +would come to; and (2nd) what thirty years' interest at five per cent. +would come to; and (3rd) what the compound interest on two thousand +pounds would come to—capital and compound interest—in the same period. +The last reckoning—the compound interest one—had been crossed over and +out with vigorous dashes of the pen, as if the calculator had been +appalled on discovering what an original sum of two thousand pounds, +left at compound interest for thirty years, would be transformed into in +that time.</p> + +<p>All this was so much Greek to Stoner. But he knew there was something in +it—something behind those figures. They might refer to some Corporation +financial business—Cotherstone being Borough Treasurer. But—they might +not. And why were they mixed up with Wilchester?</p> + +<p>For once in a way, Stoner took no walk abroad that night. Usually, even +when he stopped in of an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> evening, he had a brief stroll to the Grey +Mare and back last thing before going to bed. But on this occasion he +forgot all about the Grey Mare, and Popsie the barmaid did not come into +his mind for even a second. He sat at home, his feet on the fender, his +eyes fixed on the dying coals in the grate. He thought—thought so hard +that he forgot that his pipe had gone out. The fire had gone out, too, +when he finally rose and retired. And he went on thinking for a long +time after his head had sought his pillow.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's Saturday tomorrow, anyway!" he mused at last. "Which is +lucky."</p> + +<p>Next day—being Saturday and half-holiday—Stoner attired himself in his +best garments, and, in the middle of the afternoon, took train for Darlington.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER</h3> + +<p>Although Stoner hailed from Darlington, he had no folk of his own left +there—they were all dead and gone. Accordingly he put himself up at a +cheap hotel, and when he had taken what its proprietors called a meat +tea, he strolled out and made for that part of the town in which his +friend Myler had set up housekeeping in a small establishment wherein +there was just room for a couple of people to turn round. Its +accommodation, indeed, was severely taxed just then, for Myler's father +and mother-in-law had come to visit him and their daughter, and when +Stoner walked in on the scene and added a fifth the tiny parlour was +filled to its full extent.</p> + +<p>"Who'd ha' thought of seeing you, Stoner!" exclaimed Myler joyously, +when he had welcomed his old chum, and had introduced him to the family +circle. "And what brings you here, anyway? Business?"</p> + +<p>"Just a bit of business," answered Stoner. "Nothing much, though—only a +call to make, later on. I'm stopping the night, though."</p> + +<p>"Wish we could ha' put you up here, old sport!" said Myler, ruefully. +"But we don't live in a castle, yet. All full here!—unless you'd like a +shakedown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> on the kitchen table, or in the wood-shed. Or you can try the +bath, if you like."</p> + +<p>Amidst the laughter which succeeded this pleasantry, Stoner said that he +wouldn't trouble the domestic peace so far—he'd already booked his +room. And while Myler—who, commercial-traveller like, cultivated a +reputation for wit—indulged in further jokes, Stoner stealthily +inspected the father-in-law. What a fortunate coincidence! he said to +himself; what a lucky stroke! There he was, wanting badly to find out +something about Wilchester—and here, elbow to elbow with him, was a +Wilchester man! And an elderly Wilchester man, too—one who doubtless +remembered all about Wilchester for many a long year. That was another +piece of luck, for Stoner was quite certain that if Cotherstone had ever +had any connexion with Wilchester it must have been a long, long time +ago: he knew, from information acquired, that Cotherstone had been a +fixture in Highmarket for thirty years.</p> + +<p>He glanced at Myler's father-in-law again as Myler, remarking that when +old friends meet, the flowing bowl must flow, produced a bottle of +whisky from a brand-new chiffonier, and entreated his bride to fetch +what he poetically described as the crystal goblets and the sparkling +stream. The father-in-law was a little apple-faced old gentleman with +bright eyes and a ready smile, who evidently considered his son-in-law a +born wit, and was ready to laugh at all his sallies. A man of good +memory, that, decided Stoner, and wondered how he could diplomaticaly +lead Mr. Pursey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> to talk about the town he came from. But Mr. Pursey was +shortly to talk about Wilchester to some purpose—and with no +drawing-out from Stoner or anybody.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Myler, having supplied his guests with spirituous +refreshment, and taken a pull at his own glass. "I'm glad to see you, +Stoner, and so's the missis, and here's hoping you'll come again as +often as the frog went to the water. You've been having high old times +in that back-of-beyond town of yours, haven't you? Battles, murders, +sudden deaths!—who'd ha' thought a slow old hill-country town like +Highmarket could have produced so much excitement! What's happened to +that chap they collared?—I haven't had time to look at the papers this +last day or two—been too busy."</p> + +<p>"Committed for trial," answered Stoner. "He'll come up at Norcaster +Assizes next month."</p> + +<p>"Do they think he did it?" asked Myler. "Is it a sure thing?"</p> + +<p>Before Stoner could reply Mr. Pursey entered the arena. His face +displayed the pleased expression of the man who has special information.</p> + +<p>"It's an odd thing, now, David," he said in a high, piping voice, "a +very odd thing, that this should happen when I come up into these +parts—almost as foreign to me as the Fiji Islands might be. Yes, sir," +he went on, turning to Stoner, "it's very odd! I knew that man Kitely."</p> + +<p>Stoner could have jumped from his seat, but he restrained himself, and +contrived to show no more than a polite interest.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>"Oh, indeed, sir?" he said. "The poor man that was murdered? You knew +him?"</p> + +<p>"I remember him very well indeed," assented Mr. Pursey. "Yes, although I +only met him once, I've a very complete recollection of the man. I spent +a very pleasant evening with him and one or two more of his +profession—better sort of police and detectives, you know—at a +friend's of mine, who was one of our Wilchester police officials—oh, +it's—yes—it must be thirty years since. They'd come from London, of +course, on some criminal business. Deary me!—the tales them fellows +could tell!"</p> + +<p>"Thirty years is a long time, sir," observed Stoner politely.</p> + +<p>"Aye, but I remember it quite well," said Mr. Pursey, with a confident +nod. "I know it was thirty years ago, 'cause it was the Wilchester +Assizes at which the Mallows & Chidforth case was tried. Yes—thirty +years. Eighteen hundred and eighty-one was the year. Mallows & +Chidforth—aye!"</p> + +<p>"Famous case that, sir?" asked Stoner. He was almost bursting with +excitement by that time, and he took a big gulp of whisky and water to +calm himself. "Something special, sir? Murder, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No—fraud, embezzlement, defalcation—I forget what the proper legal +term 'ud be," replied Mr. Pursey. "But it was a bad case—a real bad +'un. We'd a working men's building society in Wilchester in those +days—it's there now for that matter, but under another name—and there +were two better-class young workmen, smart fellows, that acted one as +secretary and t'other as treasurer to it. They'd full control,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> those +two had, and they were trusted, aye, as if they'd been the Bank of +England! And all of a sudden, something came out, and it was found that +these two, Mallows, treasurer, Chidforth, secretary, had made away with +two thousand pounds of the society's money. Two thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Two thousand pounds?" exclaimed Stoner, whose thoughts went like +lightning to the half-sheet of foolscap. "You don't say!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—well, it might ha' been a pound or two more or less," said the old +man, "but two thousand was what they called it. And of course Mallows +and Chidforth were prosecuted—and they got two years. Oh, yes, we +remember that case very well indeed in Wilchester, don't we, Maria?"</p> + +<p>"And good reason!" agreed Mrs. Pursey warmly. "There were a lot of poor +people nearly ruined by them bad young men."</p> + +<p>"There were!" affirmed Mr. Pursey. "Yes—oh, yes! Aye—I've often +wondered what became of 'em—Mallows and Chidforth, I mean. For from the +time they got out of prison they've never been heard of in our parts. +Not a word!—they disappeared completely. Some say, of course, that they +had that money safely planted, and went to it. I don't know. But—off +they went."</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" said Myler. "That's an easy one. Went off to some colony or +other, of course. Common occurrence, father-in-law. Bert, old sport, +what say if we rise on our pins and have a hundred at billiards at the +Stag and Hunter—good table there."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>Stoner followed his friend out of the little house, and once outside +took him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Confound the billards, Dave, old man!" he said, almost trembling with +suppressed excitement. "Look here!—d'you know a real quiet corner in +the Stag where we can have an hour's serious consultation. You do?—then +come on, and I'll tell you the most wonderful story you ever heard since +your ears were opened!"</p> + +<p>Myler, immediately impressed, led the way into a small and vacant +parlour in the rear of a neighbouring hostelry, ordered refreshments, +bade the girl who brought them to leave him and his friend alone, and +took the liberty of locking the door on their privacy. And that done he +showed himself such a perfect listener that he never opened his lips +until Stoner had set forth everything before him in detail. Now and then +he nodded, now and then his sharp eyes dilated, now and then he clapped +his hands. And in the end he smote Stoner on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Stoner, old sport!" he exclaimed. "It's a sure thing! Gad, I never +heard a clearer. That five hundred is yours—aye, as dead certain as +that my nose is mine! It's—it's—what they call inductive reasoning. +The initials M. and C.—Mallows and Chidforth—Mallalieu and +Cotherstone—the two thousand pounds—the fact that Kitely was at +Wilchester Assizes in 1881—that he became Cotherstone's tenant thirty +years after—oh, I see it all, and so will a judge and jury! Stoner, +one, or both of 'em killed that old chap to silence him!"</p> + +<p>"That's my notion," assented Stoner, who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> highly pleased with +himself, and by that time convinced that his own powers, rather than a +combination of lucky circumstances, had brought the desired result +about. "Of course, I've worked it out to that. And the thing now +is—what's the best line to take? What would you suggest, Dave?"</p> + +<p>Myler brought all his business acumen to bear on the problem presented +to him.</p> + +<p>"What sort of chap is this Tallington?" he asked at last, pointing to +the name at the foot of the reward handbill.</p> + +<p>"Most respectable solicitor in Highmarket," answered Stoner, promptly.</p> + +<p>"Word good?" asked Myler.</p> + +<p>"Good as—gold," affirmed Stoner.</p> + +<p>"Then if it was me," said Myler, "I should make a summary of what I +knew, on paper—carefully—and I should get a private interview with +this Tallington and tell him—all. Man!—you're safe of that five +hundred! For there's no doubt, Stoner, on the evidence, no doubt +whatever!"</p> + +<p>Stoner sat silently reflecting things for a while. Then he gave his +friend a sly, somewhat nervous look. Although he and Myler had been +bosom friends since they were breeched, Stoner was not quite certain as +to what Myler would say to what he, Stoner, was just then thinking of.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said suddenly. "There's this about it. It's all jolly +well, but a fellow's got to think for himself, Dave, old man. Now it +doesn't matter a twopenny cuss to me about old Kitely—I don't care if +he was scragged twice over—I've no doubt he de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>served it. But it'll +matter a lot to M. & C. if they're found out. I can touch that five +hundred easy as winking—but—you take my meaning?—I daresay M. & C. +'ud run to five thousand if I kept my tongue still. What?"</p> + +<p>But Stoner knew at once that Myler disapproved. The commercial +traveller's homely face grew grave, and he shook his head with an +unmistakable gesture.</p> + +<p>"No, Stoner," he said. "None o' that! Play straight, my lad! No +hush-money transactions. Keep to the law, Stoner, keep to the law! +Besides, there's others than you can find all this out. What you want to +do is to get in first. See Tallington as soon as you get back."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you're right," admitted Stoner. "But—I know M. & C, and I +know they'd give—aye, half of what they're worth—and that's a lot!—to +have this kept dark."</p> + +<p>That thought was with him whenever he woke in the night, and as he +strolled round Darlington next morning, it was still with him when, +after an early dinner, he set off homeward by an early afternoon train +which carried him to High Gill junction; whence he had to walk five +miles across the moors and hills to Highmarket. And he was still +pondering it weightily when, in one of the loneliest parts of the +solitudes which he was crossing, he turning the corner of a little pine +wood, and came face to face with Mallalieu.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE LONELY MOOR</h3> + +<p>During the three hours which had elapsed since his departure from +Darlington, Stoner had been thinking things over. He had seen his friend +Myler again that morning; they had had a drink or two together at the +station refreshment room before Stoner's train left, and Myler had once +more urged upon Stoner to use his fortunately acquired knowledge in the +proper way. No doubt, said Myler, he could get Mallalieu and Cotherstone +to square him; no doubt they would cheerfully pay thousands where the +reward only came to hundreds—but, when everything was considered, was +it worth while? No!—a thousand times, no, said Myler. The mere fact +that Stoner had found out all this was a dead sure proof that somebody +else might find it out. The police had a habit, said Myler, of working +like moles—underground. How did Stoner know that some of the Norcaster +and London detectives weren't on the job already? They knew by that time +that old Kitely was an ex-detective; they'd be sure to hark back on his +past doings, in the effort to trace some connexion between one or other +of them and his murder. Far away as it was, that old Wil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>chester affair +would certainly come up again. And when it came up—ah, well, observed +Myler, with force and earnestness, it would be a bad job for Stoner if +it were found out that he'd accepted hush-money from his masters. In +fact—Myler gave it as his decided opinion, though, as he explained, he +wasn't a lawyer—he didn't know but what Stoner, in that case, would be +drawn in as an accessory after the fact.</p> + +<p>"Keep to the law, Bert, old man!" counselled Myler, as they parted. +"You'll be all right then. Stick to my advice—see Tallington at +once—this very afternoon!—and put in for the five hundred. You'll be +safe as houses in doing that—but there'd be an awful risk about +t'other, Bert. Be wise!—you'll get no better counsel."</p> + +<p>Stoner knew that his sagacious friend was right, and he was prepared to +abide by his counsel—as long as Myler was at his elbow. But when he had +got away from him, his mind began to wobble. Five hundred pounds!—what +was it in comparison with what he might get by a little skilful playing +of his cards? He knew Mallalieu and he knew Cotherstone—knew much more +about both of them than they had any idea of. He knew that they were +rich men—very rich men. They had been making money for years, and of +late certain highly successful and profitable contracts had increased +their wealth in a surprising fashion. Everything had gone right with +them—every contract they had taken up had turned out a gold mine. Five +thousand pounds would be nothing to them singly—much less jointly. In +Stoner's opinion, he had only to ask in order to have. He firmly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +believed that they would pay—pay at once, in good cash. And if they +did—well, he would take good care that no evil chances came to him! If +he laid hands on five thousand pounds, he would be out of Highmarket +within five hours, and half-way across the Atlantic within five days. +No—Dave Myler was a good sort—one of the best—but he was a bit +straight-laced, and old-fashioned—especially since he had taken a +wife—and after all, every man has a right to do his best for himself. +And so, when Stoner came face to face with Mallalieu, on the lonely moor +between High Gill and Highmarket, his mind was already made up to +blackmail.</p> + +<p>The place in which they met was an appropriate one—for Stoner's +purpose. He had crossed the high ground between the railway and the +little moorland town by no definite track, but had come in a bee-line +across ling and bracken and heather. All around stretched miles upon +miles of solitude—nothing but the undulating moors, broken up by great +masses of limestone rock and occasional clumps and coverts of fir and +pine; nothing but the blue line of the hills in the west; nothing but +the grey northern skies overhead; nothing but the cry of the curlew and +the bleating of the mountain sheep. It was in the midst of this that he +met his senior employer—at the corner of a thin spinney which ran along +the edge of a disused quarry. Mallalieu, as Stoner well knew, was a +great man for walking on these moors, and he always walked alone. He +took these walks to keep his flesh down; here he came, swinging his +heavy oak walking-stick, intent on his own thoughts, and he and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> Stoner, +neither hearing the other's footfall on the soft turf, almost ran into +each other. Stoner, taken aback, flushed with the sudden surprise.</p> + +<p>But Mallalieu, busied with his own reflections, had no thought of Stoner +in his mind, and consequently showed no surprise at meeting him. He made +a point of cultivating friendly relations with all who worked for him, +and he grinned pleasantly at his clerk.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he exclaimed cordially. "Taking your walks alone, eh? Now I +should ha' thought a young fellow like you would ha' been taking one o' +Miss Featherby's little milliners out for a dander, like—down the +river-side, what?"</p> + +<p>Stoner smiled—not as Mallalieu smiled. He was in no mood for +persiflage; if he smiled it was because he thought that things were +coming his way, that the game was being played into his hands. And +suddenly he made up his mind.</p> + +<p>"Something better to do than that, Mr. Mallalieu," he answered pertly. +"I don't waste my time on dress-makers' apprentices. Something better to +think of than that, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mallalieu. "Ah! I thought you looked pretty deep in +reflection. What might it be about, like?"</p> + +<p>Something within Stoner was urging him on to go straight to the point. +No fencing, said this inward monitor, no circumlocution—get to it, +straight out. And Stoner thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulled out +a copy of the reward bill. He opened it before his employer, watching Mallalieu's face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>"That!" he said. "Just that, Mr. Mallalieu."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu glanced at the handbill, started a little, and looked +half-sharply, half-angrily, at his clerk.</p> + +<p>"What about it?" he growled. His temper, as Stoner well knew, was +quickly roused, and it showed signs of awakening now. "What're you +showing me that bit o' paper for? Mind your manners, young man!"</p> + +<p>"No offence meant," retorted Stoner, coolly. He looked round him, +noticed some convenient railings, old and worn, which fenced in the +quarry, and stepping back to them, calmly leaned against the top one, +put his hands in his pockets and looked at Mallalieu with a glance which +was intended to show that he felt himself top dog in any encounter that +might come. "I want a word or two with you, Mr. Mallalieu," he said.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu, who was plainly amazed by this strange conduct, glared at +Stoner.</p> + +<p>"You want a word—or two—with—me?" he exclaimed. "For why, pray?—and +why here?"</p> + +<p>"Here's a convenient spot," said Stoner, with a nasty laugh. "We're all +alone. Not a soul near us. You wouldn't like anybody to overhear what +I've got to say."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu stared at the clerk during a full minute's silence. He had a +trick of silently staring people out of countenance. But he found that +Stoner was not to be stared down, and eventually he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, my lad!" he said. "I don't know whether +you've been drinking, or if you've some bee in your bonnet, but I don't +allow nobody,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> and especially a man as I pay wages to, to speak in them +tones to me! What d'ye mean by it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I mean, Mr. Mallalieu," replied Stoner, still +regarding his man fixedly, and nerving himself for the contest. "I mean +this—I know who killed Kitely!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu felt himself start again; he felt his face flush warm. But he +managed to show a fairly controlled front, and he made shift to sneer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," he said, twisting his mouth in derision. "Do you now? +Deary me!—it's wonderful how clever some young folks is! So you know +who killed Kitely, do you, my lad? Ah! And who did kill Kitely, now? +Let's be knowing! Or happen you'd rather keep such a grand secret to +yourself—till you can make something out of it?"</p> + +<p>"I can make something out of it now," retorted Stoner, who was sharp +enough to see through Mallalieu's affectation of scorn. "Just you +realize the importance of what I'm saying. I tell you once again—I know +who killed Kitely!"</p> + +<p>"And who did kill him, then?" demanded Mallalieu. "Psha!—you know +naught about it!"</p> + +<p>Stoner laughed, looked round, and then leaned his head forward.</p> + +<p>"Don't I?" he said, with a sneer that exceeded his employer's in +significance and meaning. "But you're wrong—I do! Kitely was murdered +by either you or Cotherstone! How's that, Mr. Mallalieu?"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu again regarded his clerk in silence. He knew by that time that +this fellow was in possession of some information, and his +characteristic inclina<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>tion was to fence with him. And he made a great +effort to pull himself together, so as to deal better with whatever +might be in store.</p> + +<p>"Either me or Mr. Cotherstone!" he repeated sarcastically. "Oh! Now +which on us would you be inclined to fix it on, Mr. Stoner? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"May have been one, may have been the other, may have been both, for +aught I know," retorted Stoner. "But you're both guilty, any way! It's +no use, Mr. Mallalieu—I know you killed him. And—I know why!"</p> + +<p>Again there was silence, and again a duel of staring eyes. And at its +end Mallalieu laughed again, still affecting sneering and incredulous +sentiments.</p> + +<p>"Aye?—and why did one or t'other or both—have it which way you +will—murder this here old gentleman?" he demanded. "Why, Mr. +Sharp-nose?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you—and then you'll know what I know," answered Stoner. +"Because the old gentleman was an ex-detective, who was present when you +and Cotherstone, under your proper names of Mallows and Chidforth, were +tried for fraud at Wilchester Assizes, thirty years ago, and sentenced +to two years! That's why, Mr. Mallalieu. The old chap knew it, and he +let you know that he knew it, and you killed him to silence him. You +didn't want it to get out that the Mayor and Borough Treasurer of +Highmarket, so respected, so much thought of, are—a couple of old +gaol-birds!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu's hot temper, held very well in check until then, flamed up as +Stoner spat out the last contemptuous epithet. He had stood with his +right hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> behind him, grasping his heavy oaken stick—now, as his rage +suddenly boiled, he swung hand and stick round in a savage blow at his +tormentor, and the crook of the stick fell crashing against Stoner's +temples. So quick was the blow, so sudden the assault, that the clerk +had time to do no more than throw up an arm. And as he threw it up, and +as the heavy blow fell, the old, rotten railing against which Stoner had +leant so nonchalantly, gave way, and he fell back through it, and across +the brow of the quarry—and without a sound. Mallalieu heard the crash +of his stick on his victim's temples; he heard the rending and crackling +of the railings—but he heard neither cry, nor sigh, nor groan from +Stoner. Stoner fell backward and disappeared—and then (it seemed an age +in coming) Mallalieu's frightened senses were aware of a dull thud +somewhere far down in the depths into which he had fallen. Then came +silence—deep, heavy silence—broken at last by the cry of a curlew +flying across the lonely moor.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu was seized with a trembling fit. He began to shake. His heavy +frame trembled as if under the effects of a bad ague; the hand which had +struck the blow shook so violently that the stick dropped from it. And +Mallalieu looked down at the stick, and in a sudden overwhelming rage +kicked it away from him over the brink of the quarry. He lifted his fist +and shook it—and just as suddenly dropped it. The trembling passed, and +he broke out into a cold sweat of fear.</p> + +<p>"God ha' mercy!" he muttered. "If—if he's killed? He shouldn't ha' +plagued me—he shouldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> ha' dared me! It was more than flesh and blood +could stand, and—Lord ha' mercy, what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>The autumn twilight was creeping over the moor. The sun had set behind +the far-off western hills just before Mallalieu and Stoner had met, and +while they talked dusk had come on. The moorlands were now growing dark +and vague, and it seemed to Mallalieu that as the light failed the +silence increased. He looked round him, fearful lest any of the +shepherds of the district had come up to take a Sunday glance at their +flocks. And once he thought he saw a figure at a little distance away +along the edge of the trees, and he strained and strained his eyes in +its direction—and concluded it was nothing. Presently he strained his +eyes in another way—he crept cautiously to the edge of the quarry, and +looked over the broken railing, and far down on the limestone rocks +beneath he saw Stoner, lying on his back, motionless.</p> + +<p>Long experience of the moorlands and their nooks and crannies enabled +Mallalieu to make his way down to the bottom of the quarry by a descent +through a brake of gorse and bramble. He crept along by the undergrowth +to where the body lay, and fearfully laid a hand on the still figure. +One touch was sufficient—he stood up trembling and shaking more than +ever.</p> + +<p>"He's dead—dead!" he muttered. "Must ha' broken his neck—it's a good +fifty feet down here. Was ever aught so unfortunate! And—whatever shall +I say and do about it?"</p> + +<p>Inspiration came to him quickly—as quickly as the darkness came into +that place of death. He made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> an effort, and regained his composure, and +presently was able to think and to decide. He would say and do +nothing—nothing whatever. No one had witnessed the meeting between +Stoner and himself. No one had seen the blow. No one had seen Stoner's +fall. Far better to say nothing, do nothing—far best to go away and let +things take their course. Stoner's body would be found, next day, the +day after, some day—and when it was found, people would say that Stoner +had been sitting on those rotten railings, and they had given way, and +he had fallen—and whatever marks there were on him would be attributed +to the fall down the sharp edges of the old quarry.</p> + +<p>So Mallalieu presently went away by another route, and made his way back +to Highmarket in the darkness of the evening, hiding himself behind +hedges and walls until he reached his own house. And it was not until he +lay safe in bed that night that he remembered the loss of his stick.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE MEDICAL OPINION</h3> + +<p>The recollection of that stick plunged Mallalieu into another of his +ague-like fits of shaking and trembling. There was little sleep for him +after that: he spent most of the night in thinking, anticipating, and +scheming. That stick would almost certainly be found, and it would be +found near Stoner's body. A casual passer-by would not recognize it, a +moorland shepherd would not recognize it. But the Highmarket police, to +whom it would be handed, would know it at once to be the Mayor's: it was +one which Mallalieu carried almost every day—a plain, very stout oak +staff. And the police would want to know how it came to be in that +quarry. Curse it!—was ever anything so unfortunate!—however could he +have so far lost his head as to forget it? He was half tempted to rise +in the middle of the night and set out for the moors, to find it. But +the night was dark, and solitary as the moors and the quarry where he +dared not risk the taking of a lantern. And so he racked his brains in +the effort to think of some means of explaining the presence of the +stick. He hit on a notion at last—remembering suddenly that Stoner had +carried neither stick nor umbrella. If the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> stick were found he would +say that he had left it at the office on the Saturday, and that the +clerk must have borrowed it. There was nothing unlikely in that: it was +a good reason, it would explain why it came to be found near the body. +Naturally, the police would believe the word of the Mayor: it would be a +queer thing if they didn't, in Mallalieu's opinion. And therewith he +tried to go to sleep, and made a miserable failure of it.</p> + +<p>As he lay tossing and groaning in his comfortable bed that night, +Mallalieu thought over many things. How had Stoner acquired his +information? Did anybody else know what Stoner knew? After much +reflection he decided that nobody but Stoner did know. Further reckoning +up of matters gave him a theory as to how Stoner had got to know. He saw +it all—according to his own idea. Stoner had overheard the conversation +between old Kitely and Cotherstone in the private office, of course! +That was it—he wondered he had never thought of it before. Between the +partners' private room and the outer office in which Stoner sat, there +was a little window in the wall; it had been specially made so that +papers could be passed from one room to the other. And, of course, on +that afternoon it had probably been a little way open, as it often was, +and Stoner had heard what passed between Cotherstone and his tenant. +Being a deep chap, Stoner had kept the secret to himself until the +reward was offered. Of course, his idea was blackmail—Mallalieu had no +doubt about that. No—all things considered, he did not believe that +Stoner had shared his knowledge—Stoner would be too well con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>vinced of +its value to share it with anybody. That conclusion comforted +Mallalieu—once more he tried to sleep.</p> + +<p>But his sleep was a poor thing that night, and he felt tired and worn +when, as usual, he went early to the yard. He was there before +Cotherstone; when Cotherstone came, no more than a curt nod was +exchanged between them. They had never spoken to each other except on +business since the angry scene of a few days before, and now Mallalieu, +after a glance at some letters which had come in the previous evening, +went off down the yard. He stayed there an hour: when he re-entered the +office he looked with an affectation of surprise at the clerk's empty +desk.</p> + +<p>"Stoner not come?" he demanded curtly.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone, who was turning over the leaves of an account book, replied +just as curtly.</p> + +<p>"Not yet!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu fidgeted about for a while, arranging some papers he had +brought in from the yard. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of +impatience, and going to the door, called to a lad who was passing.</p> + +<p>"Here, you!" he said. "You know where Mr. Stoner lodges?—Mrs. +Battley's. Run round there, and see why he hasn't come to his work. It's +an hour and a half past his time. Happen he's poorly—run now, sharp!"</p> + +<p>He went off down the yard again when he had despatched this message; he +came back to the office ten minutes later, just as the messenger returned.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>"Well?" he demanded, with a side-glance to assure himself that +Cotherstone was at hand. "Where is he, like?"</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, Mrs. Battley, she says as how Mr. Stoner went away on +Saturday afternoon, sir," answered the lad, "and he hasn't been home +since. She thinks he went to Darlington, sir, on a visit."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu turned into the office, growling.</p> + +<p>"Must ha' missed his train," he muttered as he put more papers on +Stoner's desk. "Here—happen you'll attend to these things—they want +booking up."</p> + +<p>Cotherstone made no reply, and Mallalieu presently left him and went +home to get his breakfast. And as he walked up the road to his house he +wondered why Stoner had gone to Darlington. Was it possible that he had +communicated what he knew to any of his friends? If so——</p> + +<p>"Confound the suspense and the uncertainty!" growled Mallalieu. "It 'ud +wear the life out of a man. I've a good mind to throw the whole thing up +and clear out! I could do it easy enough wi' my means. A clear +track—and no more o' this infernal anxiety."</p> + +<p>He reflected, as he made a poor show of eating his breakfast, on the +ease with which he could get away from Highmarket and from England. +Being a particularly astute man of business, Mallalieu had taken good +care that all his eggs were not in one basket. He had many baskets—his +Highmarket basket was by no means the principal one. Indeed all that +Mal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>lalieu possessed in Highmarket was his share of the business and his +private house. As he had made his money he had invested it in easily +convertible, gilt-edged securities, which would be realized at an hour's +notice in London or New York, Paris or Vienna. It would be the easiest +thing in the world for him, as Mayor of Highmarket, to leave the town on +Corporation business, and within a few hours to be where nobody could +find him; within a few more, to be out of the country. Lately, he had +often thought of going right away, to enjoy himself for the rest of his +life. He had made one complete disappearance already; why not make +another? Before he went townwards again that morning, he was beginning +to give serious attention to the idea.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, however, there was the business of the day to attend to, and +Stoner's absence threw additional work on the two partners. Then at +twelve o'clock, Mallalieu had to go over to the Town Hall to preside at +a meeting of the General Purposes Committee. That was just over, and he +was thinking of going home to his lunch when the superintendent of +police came into the committee-room and drew him aside.</p> + +<p>"I've bad news for you, Mr. Mayor," he announced in a whisper. "Your +clerk—he hasn't been at work this morning, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Well?" demanded Mallalieu, nerving himself for what he felt to be +coming. "What about it?"</p> + +<p>"He's met with a bad accident," replied the superintendent. "In fact, +sir, he's dead! A couple of men found his body an hour or so ago in +Hobwick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> Quarry, up on the moor, and it's been brought down to the +mortuary. You'd better come round, Mr. Mayor—Mr. Cotherstone's there, +now."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu followed without a word. But once outside the Town Hall he +turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Have you made aught out of it?" he asked. "He's been away, so his +landlady says, since Saturday afternoon: I sent round to inquire for him +when he didn't turn up this morning. What do you know, like?"</p> + +<p>"It looks as if it had been an accident," answered the superintendent. +"These men that found him noticed some broken railings at top of the +quarry. They looked down and saw a body. So they made their way down and +found—Stoner. It would seem as if he'd leaned or sat on the railings +and they'd given way beneath him, and of course he'd pitched headlong +into the quarry. It's fifty feet deep, Mr. Mayor! That's all one can +think of. But Dr. Rockcliffe's with him now."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu made a mighty effort to appear calm, as, with a grave and +concerned face, he followed his guide into the place where the doctor, +an official or two, and Cotherstone were grouped about the dead man. He +gave one glance at his partner and Cotherstone gave one swift look at +him—and there was something in Cotherstone's look which communicated a +sudden sense of uneasy fear to Mallalieu: it was a look of curious +intelligence, almost a sort of signal. And Mallalieu experienced a vague +feeling of dread as he turned to the doctor.</p> + +<p>"A bad job—a bad job!" he muttered, shaking his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> head and glancing +sideways at the body. "D'ye make aught out of it, doctor? Can you say +how it came about?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Rockcliffe pursed up his lips and his face became inscrutable. He +kept silence for a moment—when he spoke his voice was unusually stern.</p> + +<p>"The lad's neck is broken, and his spine's fractured," he said in a low +voice. "Either of those injuries was enough to cause death. But—look at +that!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to a contusion which showed itself with unmistakable +plainness on the dead man's left temple, and again he screwed up his +lips as if in disgust at some deed present only to the imagination.</p> + +<p>"That's a blow!" he said, more sternly than before. "A blow from some +blunt instrument! It was a savage blow, too, dealt with tremendous +force. It may—may, I say—have killed this poor fellow on the spot—he +may have been dead before ever he fell down that quarry."</p> + +<p>It was only by an enormous effort of will that Mallalieu prevented +himself from yielding to one of his shaking fits.</p> + +<p>"But—but mightn't he ha' got that with striking his head against them +rocks as he fell?" he suggested. "It's a rocky place, that, and the +rocks project, like, so——"</p> + +<p>"No!" said the doctor, doggedly. "That's no injury from any rock or +stone or projection. It's the result of a particularly fierce blow dealt +with great force by some blunt instrument—a life preserver, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> club, a +heavy stick. It's no use arguing it. That's a certainty!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone, who had kept quietly in the background, ventured a +suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Any signs of his having been robbed?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," replied the superintendent promptly. "I've everything that +was on him. Not much, either. Watch and chain, half a sovereign, some +loose silver and copper, his pipe and tobacco, a pocket-book with a +letter or two and such-like in it—that's all. There'd been no robbery."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you took a look round?" asked Cotherstone. "See anything that +suggested a struggle? Or footprints? Or aught of that sort?"</p> + +<p>The superintendent shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Naught!" he answered. "I looked carefully at the ground round those +broken railings. But it's the sort of ground that wouldn't show +footprints, you know—covered with that short, wiry mountain grass that +shows nothing."</p> + +<p>"And nothing was found?" asked Mallalieu. "No weapons, eh?"</p> + +<p>For the life of him he could not resist asking that—his anxiety about +the stick was overmastering him. And when the superintendent and the two +policemen who had been with him up to Hobwick Quarry had answered that +they had found nothing at all, he had hard work to repress a sigh of +relief. He presently went away hoping that the oak stick had fallen into +a crevice of the rocks or amongst the brambles which grew out of them; +there was a lot of tangle-wood about that spot, and it was quite +possible that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> stick, kicked violently away, had fallen where it +would never be discovered. And—there was yet a chance for him to make +that possible discovery impossible. Now that the body had been found, he +himself could visit the spot with safety, on the pretext of curiosity. +He could look round; if he found the stick he could drop it into a safe +fissure of the rocks, or make away with it. It was a good notion—and +instead of going home to lunch Mallalieu turned into a private room of +the Highmarket Arms, ate a sandwich and drank a glass of ale, and +hurried off, alone, to the moors.</p> + +<p>The news of this second mysterious death flew round Highmarket and the +neighbourhood like wild-fire. Brereton heard of it during the afternoon, +and having some business in the town in connexion with Harborough's +defence, he looked in at the police-station and found the superintendent +in an unusually grave and glum mood.</p> + +<p>"This sort of thing's getting beyond me, Mr. Brereton," he said in a +whisper. "Whether it is that I'm not used to such things—thank God! +we've had little experience of violence in this place in my time!—or +what it is, but I've got it into my head that this poor young fellow's +death's connected in some way with Kitely's affair! I have indeed, +sir!—it's been bothering me all the afternoon. For all the +doctors—there's been several of 'em in during the last two hours—are +absolutely agreed that Stoner was felled, sir—felled by a savage blow, +and they say he may ha' been dead before ever he fell over that quarry +edge. Mr. Brereton—I misdoubt it's another murder!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>"Have you anything to go on?" asked Brereton. "Had anybody any motive? +Was there any love affair—jealousy, you know—anything of that sort?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm sure there wasn't," replied the superintendent. "The whole town +and county's ringing with the news, and I should ha' heard something by +now. And it wasn't robbery—not that he'd much on him, poor fellow! +There's all he had," he went on, opening a drawer. "You can look at 'em, +if you like."</p> + +<p>He left the room just then, and Brereton, disregarding the cheap watch +and chain and the pigskin purse with its light load, opened Stoner's +pocket-book. There was not much in that, either—a letter or two, some +receipted bills, a couple of much creased copies of the reward bill, +some cuttings from newspapers. He turned from these to the pocket-book +itself, and on the last written page he found an entry which made him +start. For there again were the initials!</p> + +<p>"—<i>M. & C.</i>—<i>fraud</i>—<i>bldg. soc.</i>—<i>Wilchester +Assizes</i>—<i>81</i>—<i>£2000</i>—money never recovered—2 yrs.—K. <i>pres.</i>"</p> + +<p>Not much—but Brereton hastily copied that entry. And he had just +written the last word when the superintendent came back into the room +with a man who was in railway uniform.</p> + +<p>"Come in here," the superintendent was saying. "You can tell me what it +is before this gentleman. Some news from High Gill junction, Mr. +Brereton," he went on, "something about Stoner. Well, my lad, what is it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>"The station-master sent me over on his bicycle," replied the visitor. +"We heard over there this afternoon about Stoner's body being found, and +that you were thinking he must have fallen over into the quarry in the +darkness. And we know over yonder that that's not likely."</p> + +<p>"Aye?" said the superintendent. "Well, as a matter of fact, my lad, we +weren't thinking that, but no doubt that rumour's got out. Now why do +you railway folks know it isn't likely?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I've come to tell," answered the man, a sharp, +intelligent-looking fellow. "I'm ticket-collector over there, as you +know, sir. Now, young Stoner came to the junction on Saturday afternoon +and booked for Darlington, and of course went to Darlington. He came +back yesterday afternoon—Sunday—by the train that gets to our junction +at 3.3. I took his ticket. Instead of going out of the station by the +ordinary way, he got over the fence on the down line side, saying to me +that he'd take a straight cut across the moor to Highmarket. I saw him +going Highmarket way for some distance. And he'd be at Hobwick Quarry by +4.30 at the latest—long before darkness."</p> + +<p>"Just about sunset, as a matter of fact," remarked the superintendent. +"The sun sets about 4.18."</p> + +<p>"So he couldn't have fallen over in the darkness," continued the +ticket-collector. "If all had gone well with him, he'd have been down in +Highmarket here by dusk."</p> + +<p>"I'm obliged to you," said the superintendent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> "It's worth knowing, of +course. Came from Darlington, eh? Was he alone?"</p> + +<p>"Quite alone, sir."</p> + +<p>"You didn't see anybody else going that way across the moors, did you? +Didn't notice anybody following him?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the ticket-collector with decision. "Me and one of my +mates watched him a long way, and I'll swear there was no one near him +till he was out of sight. We didn't watch him on purpose, neither. When +the down-train had gone, me and my mate sat down to smoke our pipes, and +from where we were we could see right across the moors in this +direction. We saw Stoner—now and then, you understand—right away to +Chat Bank."</p> + +<p>"You didn't notice any suspicious characters come to your station that +afternoon or evening?" asked the superintendent.</p> + +<p>The ticket-collector replied that nothing of that sort had been seen, +and he presently went away. And Brereton, after an unimportant word or +two, went away too, certain by that time that the death of Stoner had +some sinister connexion with the murder of Kitely.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SCRAP BOOK</h3> + +<p>Brereton went back to his friend's house more puzzled than ever by the +similarity of the entries in Kitely's memoranda and in Stoner's +pocket-book. Bent had gone over to Norcaster that afternoon, on +business, and was not to be home until late in the evening: Brereton +accordingly dined alone and had ample time to reflect and to think. The +reflecting and the thinking largely took the form of speculating—on the +fact that certain terms and figures which had been set down by Kitely +had also been set down by Stoner. There were the initials—M. & C. There +was a date—if it was a date—81. What in Kitely's memorandum the +initials S. B. might mean, it was useless to guess at. His memorandum, +indeed, was as cryptic as an Egyptian hieroglyph. But Stoner's +memorandum was fuller, more explicit. The M. & C. of the Kitely entry +had been expanded to Mallows and Chidforth. The entry "fraud" and the +other entries "Wilchester Assizes" and the supplementary words, clearly +implied that two men named Mallows and Chidforth were prosecuted at +Wilchester Assizes in the year 1881 for fraud, that a sum of £2,000 was +involved, which was never recovered, that Mallows and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> Chidforth, +whoever they were, were convicted and were sentenced to two years' +imprisonment. So much for Stoner's memorandum. But did it refer to the +same event to which Kitely made reference in his memorandum? It seemed +highly probable that it did. It seemed highly probable, too, that the M. +& C. of Kitely's entry were the Mallows & Chidforth of Stoner's. And now +the problem narrowed to one most serious and crucial point—were the +Mallows and Chidforth of these references the Mallalieu and Cotherstone +of Highmarket.</p> + +<p>Speculating on this possibility, Brereton after his solitary dinner went +into Bent's smoking-room, and throwing himself into a chair before the +fire, lighted his pipe and proceeded to think things out. It was +abundantly clear to him by that time that Kitely and Stoner had been in +possession of a secret: it seemed certain that both had been murdered by +some person who desired to silence them. There was no possible doubt as +to Kitely's murder: from what Brereton had heard that afternoon there +seemed to be just as little doubt that Stoner had also been murdered. He +had heard what the local medical men had to say—one and all agreed that +though the clerk had received injuries in his fall which would produce +almost instantaneous death he had received a mortal blow before he fell. +Who struck that blow? Everything seemed to point to the fact that the +man who struck it was the man who strangled Kitely—a man of great +muscular power.</p> + +<p>Glancing around the room as he sat in a big easy chair, his hands behind +his head, Brereton's eyes fell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> suddenly on Kitely's legacy to Windle +Bent. The queer-looking old volume which, because of its black calf +binding and brass clasp, might easily have been taken for a prayer-book, +lay just where Bent had set it down on his desk when Christopher Pett +formally handed it over—so far as Brereton knew Bent up to now had +never even opened it. And it was with no particular motive that Brereton +now reached out and picked it up, and unsnapping the clasp began idly to +turn over the leaves on which the old detective had pasted cuttings from +newspapers and made entries in his crabbed handwriting. Brereton +believed that he was idly handling what Pett had jocosely described the +book to be—a mere scrap-book. It never entered his head that he held in +his hands almost the whole solution of the mystery which was puzzling +him.</p> + +<p>No man knows how inspiration comes to him, and Brereton never knew how +it was that suddenly, in the flash of an eye, in the swiftness of +thought, he knew that he had found what he wanted. Suggestion might have +had something to do with it. Kitely had written the word <i>Scrap-book</i> on +the first blank page. Afterwards, at the tops of pages, he had filled in +dates in big figures—for reference—1875—1879—1887—and so on. And +Brereton suddenly saw, and understood, and realized. The cryptic entry +in Kitely's pocket-book became plain as the plainest print. <i>M. & C. v. +S. B. cir. 81</i>:—Brereton could amplify that now. Kitely, like all men +who dabble in antiquarian pursuits, knew a bit of Latin, and naturally +made an occasional airing of his knowledge. The full entry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> of course, +meant M. &. C. <i>vide</i> (=see) Scrap-Book <i>circa</i> (=about) 1881.</p> + +<p>With a sharp exclamation of delight, Brereton turned over the pages of +that queer record of crime and detection until he came to one over which +the figure 1881 stood out boldly. A turn or two more of pages, and he +had found what he wanted. There it was—a long cutting from what was +evidently a local newspaper—a cutting which extended over two or three +leaves of the book—and at the end a memorandum in Kitely's handwriting, +evidently made some years before. The editor of that local newspaper had +considered the case which Kitely had so carefully scissored from his +columns worthy of four headlines in big capitals:—</p> + +<blockquote><p class="center">THE BUILDING SOCIETY DEFALCATIONS<br />MALLOWS AND CHIDFORTH AT THE<br /> +WILCHESTER ASSIZES<br />VERDICT AND SENTENCE</p></blockquote> + +<p>Brereton settled down to a careful reading of the report. There was +really nothing very remarkable about it—nothing exciting nor +sensational. It was indeed no more than a humdrum narrative of a vulgar +crime. But it was necessary that he should know all about it, and be +able to summarize it, and so he read it over with unusual care. It was a +very plain story—there were no complications. It appeared from the +evidence adduced that for some time previous to 1881 there had been in +existence in Wilchester a building society, the members of which were +chiefly of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> the small tradesman and better-class working-man order. Its +chief officials for a year or two had been John Mallows and Mark +Chidforth, who were respectively treasurer and secretary. Mallows was +foreman to a builder in the town; Chidforth was clerk to the same +employer. Both were young men. They were evidently regarded as smart +fellows. Up to the time of the revelations they had borne the very best +of characters. Each had lived in Wilchester since childhood; each had +continued his education at night schools and institute classes after the +usual elementary school days were over; each was credited with an +ambitious desire to rise in the world. Each, as a young man, was +attached to religious organizations—Mallows was a sidesman at one of +the churches, Chidforth was a Sunday-school teacher at one of the +chapels. Both had been fully and firmly trusted, and it appeared from +the evidence that they had had what practically amounted to unsupervised +control of the building society's funds. And—the really important +point—there was no doubt whatever that they had helped themselves to +some two thousand pounds of their fellow-members' money.</p> + +<p>All this was clear enough: it took little time for Brereton to acquaint +himself with these facts. What was not so clear was the whereabouts or +disposal of the money. From the evidence there appeared to be two +conflicting notions current in Wilchester at the time. Some people +apparently believed confidently that the two culprits had lost the money +in secret speculation and in gambling: other people were just as certain +that they had quietly put the money away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> in some safe quarter. The +prisoners themselves absolutely refused to give the least scrap of +information: ever since their arrest they had maintained a stolid +silence and a defiant demeanour. More than once during the progress of +the trial they had opportunities of making clean breasts of their +misdoings and refused to take them. Found guilty, they were put back +until next day for sentence—that, of course, was to give them another +chance of saying what they had done with the money. But they had kept up +their silence to the end, and they had been sentenced to two years' +imprisonment, with hard labour, and so had disappeared from public view, +with their secret—if there really was a secret—intact.</p> + +<p>So much for the newspaper cutting from the <i>Wilchester Sentinel</i>. But +there was more to read. The cutting came to an end on the top half of a +page in the scrap-book; underneath it on the blank half of the page +Kitely had made an entry, dated three years after the trial.</p> + +<p>"Wilchester: June 28, 1884. <i>Re</i> above. Came down here on business today +and had a talk with police about M. & C. and the money. M. & C. never +been heard of since their release. Were released at same time, and seen +in the town an hour or two later, after which they disappeared—a man +who spoke to M. says that M. told him they were going to emigrate. They +are believed to have gone to Argentine. Both had relatives in +Wilchester, but either they don't know anything of M. & C.'s subsequent +doings, or they keep silence. No further trace of money, and opinion +still divided as to what they really did with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> it: many people in W. +firmly convinced that they had it safely planted, and have gone to it."</p> + +<p>To Brereton the whole affair was now as plain as a pikestaff. The old +detective, accidentally settling down at Highmarket, had recognized +Mallalieu and Cotherstone, the prosperous tradesmen of that little, +out-of-the-way town, as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had seen in +the dock at Wilchester, and he had revealed his knowledge to one or the +other or both. That was certain. But there were many things that were +far from certain. What had happened when Kitely revealed himself as a +man who had been a witness of their conviction in those far-off days? +How had he revealed himself? Had he endeavoured to blackmail them? It +was possible.</p> + +<p>But there was still more to think over. How had the dead clerk, Stoner, +got his knowledge of this great event in the life of his employers? Had +he got it from Kitely? That was not likely. Yet Stoner had written down +in his pocket-book an entry which was no more and no less than a +<i>précis</i> of the absolute facts. Somehow, somewhere, Stoner had made +himself fully acquainted with Mallalieu and Cotherstone's secret. Did +Stoner's death arise out of a knowledge of that secret? On the face of +things there could be little doubt that it did. Who, then, struck the +blow which killed Stoner, or, if it did not actually kill him, caused +his death by bringing about the fall which broke his neck? Was it +Mallalieu?—or was it Cotherstone?</p> + +<p>That one or other, or both, were guilty of Kitely's murder, and possibly +of Stoner's, Brereton was by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> that time absolutely certain. And +realizing that certainty, he felt himself placed in a predicament which +could not fail to be painful. It was his duty, as counsel for an +innocent man, to press to the full his inquiries into the conduct of men +whom he believed to be guilty. In this he was faced with an unpleasant +situation. He cared nothing about Mallalieu. If Mallalieu was a guilty +man, let Mallalieu pay the richly-deserved consequences of his misdeeds. +Brereton, without being indifferent or vindictive or callous, knew that +it would not give him one extra heart-throb if he heard Mallalieu found +guilty and sentenced to the gallows. But Cotherstone was the father of +the girl to whom Windle Bent was shortly to be married—and Bent and +Brereton had been close friends ever since they first went to school +together.</p> + +<p>It was a sad situation, an unpleasant thing to face. He had come on a +visit to Bent, he had prolonged that visit in order to defend a man whom +he firmly believed to be as innocent as a child—and now he was to bring +disgrace and shame on a family with whom his host and friend was soon to +be allied by the closest of ties. But—better that than that an innocent +man should suffer! And walking up and down Bent's smoking-room, and +thinking the whole thing through and through, he half made up his mind +to tell Bent all about it when he returned.</p> + +<p>Brereton presently put on hat and coat and left the house. It was then +half-past seven; a sharp, frosty November evening, with an almost full +moon rising in a clear, star-sprinkled sky. The sudden change from the +warmth of the house to the frost-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>laden atmosphere of the hillside +quickened his mental faculties; he lighted his pipe, and resolved to +take a brisk walk along the road which led out of Highmarket and to +occupy himself with another review of the situation. A walk in the +country by day or night and in solitude had always had attractions for +Brereton and he set out on this with zest. But he had not gone a hundred +yards in the direction of the moors when Avice Harborough came out of +the gate of Northrop's garden and met him.</p> + +<p>"I was coming to see you," she said quietly. "I have heard something +that I thought you ought to hear, too—at once."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" responded Brereton.</p> + +<p>Avice drew an envelope from her muff and gave it to him.</p> + +<p>"A boy brought that to me half an hour ago," she said. "It is from an +old woman, Mrs. Hamthwaite, who lives in a very lonely place on the +moors up above Hobwick Quarry. Can you read it in this light?"</p> + +<p>"I will," answered Brereton, drawing a scrap of paper from the envelope. +"Here," he went on, giving it back to Avice, "you hold it, and I'll +strike a match—the moonlight's scarcely strong enough. Now," he +continued, taking a box of vestas from his pocket and striking one, +"steady—'If Miss Harborough will come up to see Susan Hamthwaite I will +tell you something that you might like to know.' Ah!" he exclaimed, +throwing away the match. "Now, how far is it to this old woman's +cottage?"</p> + +<p>"Two miles," replied Avice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>"Can you go there now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I thought of doing so," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Come along, then," said Brereton. "We'll go together. If she objects to +my presence I'll leave you with her and wait about for you. Of course, +she wants to tell you something relating to your father."</p> + +<p>"You think so?" said Avice. "I only hope it is!"</p> + +<p>"Certain to be," he replied. "What else could it be?"</p> + +<p>"There are so many strange things to tell about, just now," she +remarked. "Besides, if old Mrs. Hamthwaite knows anything, why hasn't +she let me know until tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's no accounting for that!" said Brereton. "Old women have +their own way of doing things. By the by," he continued, as they turned +out of the road and began to climb a path which led to the first ridge +of the moors outside the town, "I haven't seen you today—you've heard +of this Stoner affair?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Northrop told me this afternoon," she replied. "What do you think +about it?"</p> + +<p>Brereton walked on a little way without replying. He was asking a +serious question of himself. Should he tell all he knew to Avice Harborough?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A TALL MAN IN GREY CLOTHES</h3> + +<p>That question remained unanswered, and Brereton remained silent, until +he and Avice had reached the top of the path and had come out on the +edge of the wide stretch of moorland above the little town. He paused +for a moment and looked back on the roofs and gables of Highmarket, +shining and glittering in the moonlight; the girl paused too, wondering +at his silence. And with a curious abruptness he suddenly turned, laid a +hand on her arm, and gave it a firm, quick pressure.</p> + +<p>"Look here!" he said. "I'm going to trust you. I'm going to say to you +what I haven't said to a soul in that town!—not even to Tallington, +who's a man of the law, nor to Bent, who's my old friend. I want to say +something to somebody whom I can trust. I can trust you!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she answered quietly. "I—I think I understand. And you'll +understand, too, won't you, when I say—you can!"</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said, cheerfully. "Of course! Now we understand +each other. Come on, then—you know the way—act as guide, and I'll tell +you as we go along."</p> + +<p>Avice turned off into what appeared to be no more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> than a sheep-track +across the heather. Within a few minutes they were not only quite alone, +but out of sight of any human habitation. It seemed to Brereton that +they were suddenly shut into a world of their own, as utterly apart from +the little world they had just left as one star is from another. But +even as he thought this he saw, far away across the rising and falling +of the heather-clad undulations, the moving lights of a train that was +speeding southward along the coast-line from Norcaster, and presently +the long scream of a whistle from its engine came on the light breeze +that blew inland from the hidden sea, and the sight and sound recalled +him to the stern realities of life.</p> + +<p>"Listen, then, carefully," he began. "And bear in mind that I'm putting +what I believe to be safety of other men in your hands. It's this +way...."</p> + +<p>Avice Harborough listened in absolute silence as Brereton told her his +carefully arranged story. They walked slowly across the moor as he told +it; now dipping into a valley, now rising above the ridge of a low hill; +sometimes pausing altogether as he impressed some particular point upon +her. In the moonlight he could see that she was listening eagerly and +intently, but she never interrupted him and never asked a question. And +at last, just as they came in sight of a light that burned in the window +of a little moorland cottage, snugly planted in a hollow beneath the +ridge which they were then traversing, he brought his story to an end +and turned inquiringly to her.</p> + +<p>"There!" he said. "That's all. Now try to con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>sider it without +prejudice—if you can. How does it appear to you?"</p> + +<p>Instead of replying directly the girl walked on in silence for a moment +or two, and suddenly turned to Brereton with an impulsive movement.</p> + +<p>"You've given me your confidence and I'll give you mine!" she exclaimed. +"Perhaps I ought to have given it before—to you or to Mr. +Tallington—but—I didn't like. I've wondered about Mallalieu! Wondered +if—if he did kill that old man. And wondered if he tried to put the +blame on my father out of revenge!"</p> + +<p>"Revenge!" exclaimed Brereton. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"My father offended him—not so very long ago, either," she answered. +"Last year—I'll tell you it all, plainly—Mr. Mallalieu began coming to +our cottage at times. First he came to see my father about killing the +rats which had got into his out-buildings. Then he made excuses—he used +to come, any way—at night. He began to come when my father was out, as +he often was. He would sit down and smoke and talk. I didn't like it—I +don't like him. Then he used to meet me in the wood in the Shawl, as I +came home from the Northrops'. I complained to my father about it and +one night my father came in and found him here. My father, Mr. Brereton, +is a very queer man and a very plain-spoken man. He told Mr. Mallalieu +that neither of us desired his company and told him to go away. And Mr. +Mallalieu lost his temper and said angry things."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>"And your father?" said Brereton. "Did he lose his temper, too?"</p> + +<p>"No!" replied Avice. "He has a temper—but he kept it that night. He +never spoke to Mr. Mallalieu in return. He let him say his say—until +he'd got across the threshold, and then he just shut the door on him. +But—I know how angry Mr. Mallalieu was."</p> + +<p>Brereton stood silently considering matters for a moment. Then he +pointed to the light in the window beneath them, and moved towards it.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you told me that," he said. "It may account for something +that's puzzled me a great deal—I must think it out. But at present—is +that the old woman's lamp?"</p> + +<p>Avice led the way down to the hollow by a narrow path which took them +into a little stone-walled enclosure where a single Scotch fir-tree +stood sentinel over a typical moorland homestead of the smaller sort—a +one-storied house of rough stone, the roof of which was secured from +storm and tempest by great boulders slung on stout ropes, and having +built on to it an equally rough shelter for some small stock of cows and +sheep. Out of a sheer habit of reflection on things newly seen, Brereton +could not avoid wondering what life was like, lived in this solitude, +and in such a perfect hermitage—but his speculations were cut short by +the opening of the door set deep within the whitewashed porch. An old +woman, much bent by age, looked out upon him and Avice, holding a small +lamp so that its light fell on their faces.</p> + +<p>"Come your ways in, joy!" she said hospitably. "I was expecting you'd +come up tonight: I knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> you'd want to have a word with me as soon as +you could. Come in and sit you down by the fire—it's coldish o' nights, +to be sure, and there's frost in the air.</p> + +<p>"This gentleman may come in, too, mayn't he, Mrs. Hamthwaite?" asked +Avice as she and Brereton stepped within the porch. "He's the +lawyer-gentleman who's defending my father—you won't mind speaking +before him, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Neither before him, nor behind him, nor yet to him," answered Mrs. +Hamthwaite with a chuckle. "I've talked to lawyers afore today, many's +the time! Come your ways in, sir—sit you down."</p> + +<p>She carefully closed the door on her guests and motioned them to seats +by a bright fire of turf, and then setting the lamp on the table, seated +herself in a corner of her long-settle and folding her hands in her +apron took a long look at her visitors through a pair of unusually large +spectacles. And Brereton, genuinely interested, took an equally long +look at her; and saw a woman who was obviously very old but whose face +was eager, intelligent, and even vivacious. As this queer old face +turned from one to the other, its wrinkles smoothed out into a smile.</p> + +<p>"You'll be wondering what I've got to tell, love," said Mrs. Hamthwaite, +turning to Avice. "And no doubt you want to know why I haven't sent for +you before now. But you see, since that affair happened down your way, I +been away. Aye, I been to see my daughter—as lives up the coast. And I +didn't come home till today. And I'm no hand at writing letters. However +here we are, and better late than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> never and no doubt this lawyer +gentleman'll be glad to hear what I can tell him and you."</p> + +<p>"Very glad indeed!" responded Brereton. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>The old woman turned to a box which stood in a recess in the ingle-nook +at her elbow and took from it a folded newspaper.</p> + +<p>"Me and my daughter and her husband read this here account o' the case +against Harborough as it was put before the magistrates," she said. "We +studied it. Now you want to know where Harborough was on the night that +old fellow was done away with. That's it, master, what?"</p> + +<p>"That is it," answered Brereton, pressing his arm against Avice, who sat +close at his side. "Yes, indeed! And you——"</p> + +<p>"I can tell you where Harborough was between nine o'clock and ten +o'clock that night," replied Mrs. Hamthwaite, with a smile that was not +devoid of cunning. "I know, if nobody else knows!"</p> + +<p>"Where, then?" demanded Brereton.</p> + +<p>The old woman leaned forward across the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Up here on the moor!" she whispered. "Not five minutes' walk from here. +At a bit of a place—Miss there'll know it—called Good Folks' Lift. A +little rise i' the ground where the fairies used to dance, you know, +master."</p> + +<p>"You saw him?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"I saw him," chuckled Mrs. Hamthwaite. "And if I don't know him, why +then, his own daughter doesn't!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better tell us all about it," said Brereton.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>Mrs. Hamthwaite gave him a sharp look. "I've given evidence to law folks +before today," she said. "You'll want to know what I could tell before a +judge, like?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," replied Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Well, then——" she continued. "You see, master, since my old man died, +I've lived all alone up here. I've a bit to live on—not over much, but +enough. All the same, if I can save a bit by getting a hare or a rabbit, +or a bird or two now and then, off the moor—well, I do! We all of us +does that, as lives on the moor: some folks calls it poaching, but we +call it taking our own. Now then, on that night we're talking about, I +went along to Good Folks' Lift to look at some snares I'd set early that +day. There's a good deal of bush and scrub about that place—I was +amongst the bushes when I heard steps, and I looked out and saw a tall +man in grey clothes coming close by. How did I know he were in grey +clothes? Why, 'cause he stopped close by me to light his pipe! But he'd +his back to me, so I didn't see his full face, only a side of it. He +were a man with a thin, greyish beard. Well, he walks past there, not +far—and then I heard other steps. Then I heard your father's voice, +miss—and I see the two of 'em meet. They stood, whispering together, +for a minute or so—then they came back past me, and they went off +across the moor towards Hexendale. And soon they were out of sight, and +when I'd finished what I was after I came my ways home. That's all, +master—but if yon old man was killed down in Highmarket Shawl Wood +between nine and ten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> o'clock that night, then Jack Harborough didn't +kill him, for Jack was up here at soon after nine, and him and the tall +man went away in the opposite direction!"</p> + +<p>"You're sure about the time?" asked Brereton anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Certain, master! It was ten minutes to nine when I went out—nearly ten +when I come back. My clock's always right—I set it by the almanack and +the sunrise and sunset every day—and you can't do better," asserted +Mrs. Hamthwaite.</p> + +<p>"You're equally sure about the second man being Harborough?" insisted +Brereton. "You couldn't be mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"Mistaken? No!—master, I know Harborough's voice, and his figure, aye, +and his step as well as I know my own fireside," declared Mrs. +Hamthwaite. "Of course I know it were Harborough—no doubt on't!"</p> + +<p>"How are you sure that this was the evening of the murder?" asked +Brereton. "Can you prove that it was?"</p> + +<p>"Easy!" said Mrs. Hamthwaite. "The very next morning I went away to see +my daughter up the coast. I heard of the old man's murder at High Gill +Junction. But I didn't hear then that Harborough was suspected—didn't +hear that till later on, when we read it in the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"And the other man—the tall man in grey clothes, who has a slightly +grey beard—you didn't know him?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>Mrs. Hamthwaite made a face which seemed to suggest uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you," she answered. "I believe him to be a man that I +have seen about this here neighbourhood two or three times during this +last eighteen months or so. If you really want to know, I'm a good deal +about them moors o' nights; old as I am, I'm very active, and I go about +a goodish bit—why not? And I have seen a man about now and then—months +between, as a rule—that I couldn't account for—and I believe it's this +fellow that was with Harborough."</p> + +<p>"And you say they went away in the direction of Hexendale?" said +Brereton. "Where is Hexendale?"</p> + +<p>The old woman pointed westward.</p> + +<p>"Inland," she answered. "Over yonder. Miss there knows Hexendale well +enough."</p> + +<p>"Hexendale is a valley—with a village of the same name in it—that lies +about five miles away on the other side of the moors," said Avice. +"There's another line of railway there—this man Mrs. Hamthwaite speaks +of could come and go by that."</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Brereton presently, "we're very much obliged to you, +ma'am, and I'm sure you won't have any objection to telling all this +again at the proper time and place, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Eh, bless you, no!" answered Mrs. Hamthwaite. "I'll tell it wherever +you like, master—before Lawyer Tallington, or the magistrates, or the +crowner, or anybody! But I'll tell you what, if you'll take a bit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> of +advice from an old woman—you're a sharp-looking young man, and I'll +tell you what I should do if I were in your place—now then!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what?" asked Brereton good-humouredly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hamthwaite clapped him on the shoulder as she opened the door for +her visitors.</p> + +<p>"Find that tall man in the grey clothes!" she said. "Get hold of him! +He's the chap you want!"</p> + +<p>Brereton went silently away, meditating on the old woman's last words.</p> + +<p>"But where are we to find him?" he suddenly exclaimed. "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think that puzzles me," remarked Avice. "He's the man who sent +the nine hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>Brereton smote his stick on the heather at their feet.</p> + +<p>"By George!—I never thought of that!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't +wonder!—I shouldn't wonder at all. Hooray!—we're getting nearer and +nearer to something."</p> + +<p>But he knew that still another step was at hand—an unpleasant, painful +step—when, on getting back to Bent's, an hour later, Bent told him that +Lettie had been cajoled into fixing the day of the wedding, and that the +ceremony was to take place with the utmost privacy that day week.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>AT BAY</h3> + +<p>It was only by an immense effort of will that Brereton prevented an +exclamation and a start of surprise. But of late he had been perpetually +on the look-out for all sorts of unforeseen happenings and he managed to +do no more than show a little natural astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What, so soon!" he said. "Dear me, old chap!—I didn't think of its +being this side of Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Cotherstone's set on it," answered Bent. "He seems to be turning into a +regular hypochondriac. I hope nothing is really seriously wrong with +him. But anyway—this day week. And you'll play your part of best man, +of course."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course!" agreed Brereton. "And then—are you going away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not for as long as we'd meant," said Bent. "We'll run down to +the Riviera for a few weeks—I've made all my arrangements today. Well, +any fresh news about this last bad business? This Stoner affair, of +course, has upset Cotherstone dreadfully. When is all this mystery +coming to an end, Brereton? There is one thing dead certain—Harborough +isn't guilty in this case. That is, if Stoner really was killed by the +blow they talk of."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>But Brereton refused to discuss matters that night. He pleaded fatigue, +he had been at it all day long, he said, and his brain was confused and +tired and needed rest. And presently he went off to his room—and when +he got there he let out a groan of dismay. For one thing was +imperative—Bent's marriage must not take place while there was the +least chance of a terrible charge being suddenly let loose on +Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>He rose in the morning with his mind made up on the matter. There was +but one course to adopt—and it must be adopted immediately. Cotherstone +must be spoken to—Cotherstone must be told of what some people at any +rate knew about him and his antecedents. Let him have a chance to +explain himself. After all, he might have some explanation. But—and +here Brereton's determination became fixed and stern—it must be +insisted upon that he should tell Bent everything.</p> + +<p>Bent always went out very early in the morning, to give an eye to his +business, and he usually breakfasted at his office. That was one of the +mornings on which he did not come back to the house, and Brereton +accordingly breakfasted alone, and had not seen his host when he, too, +set out for the town. He had already decided what to do—he would tell +everything to Tallington. Tallington was a middle-aged man of a great +reputation for common-sense and for probity; as a native of the town, +and a dweller in it all his life, he knew Cotherstone well, and he would +give sound advice as to what methods should be followed in dealing with +him. And so to Tallington Brereton, arriving just after the solicitor +had finished reading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> his morning's letters, poured out the whole story +which he had learned from the ex-detective's scrap-book and from the +memorandum made by Stoner in his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>Tallington listened with absorbed attention, his face growing graver and +graver as Brereton marshalled the facts and laid stress on one point of +evidence after another. He was a good listener—a steady, watchful +listener—Brereton saw that he was not only taking in every fact and +noting every point, but was also weighing up the mass of testimony. And +when the story came to its end he spoke with decision, spoke, too, just +as Brereton expected he would, making no comment, offering no opinion, +but going straight to the really critical thing.</p> + +<p>"There are only two things to be done," said Tallington. "They're the +only things that can be done. We must send for Bent, and tell him. Then +we must get Cotherstone here, and tell him. No other course—none!"</p> + +<p>"Bent first?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! Bent first, by all means. It's due to him. Besides," said +Tallington, with a grim smile, "it would be decidedly unpleasant for +Cotherstone to compel him to tell Bent, or for us to tell Bent in +Cotherstone's presence. And—we'd better get to work at once, Brereton! +Otherwise—this will get out in another way."</p> + +<p>"You mean—through the police?" said Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Surely!" replied Tallington. "This can't be kept in a corner. For +anything we know somebody may be at work, raking it all up, just now. Do +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> suppose that unfortunate lad Stoner kept his knowledge to himself? +I don't! No—at once! Come, Bent's office is only a minute away—I'll +send one of my clerks for him. Painful, very—but necessary."</p> + +<p>The first thing that Bent's eyes encountered when he entered +Tallington's private room ten minutes later was the black-bound, +brass-clasped scrap-book, which Brereton had carried down with him and +had set on the solicitor's desk. He started at the sight of it, and +turned quickly from one man to the other.</p> + +<p>"What's that doing here?" he asked, "is—have you made some discovery? +Why am I wanted?"</p> + +<p>Once more Brereton had to go through the story. But his new listener did +not receive it in the calm and phlegmatic fashion in which it had been +received by the practised ear of the man of law. Bent was at first +utterly incredulous; then indignant: he interrupted; he asked questions +which he evidently believed to be difficult to answer; he was +fighting—and both his companions, sympathizing keenly with him, knew +why. But they never relaxed their attitude, and in the end Bent looked +from one to the other with a cast-down countenance in which doubt was +beginning to change into certainty.</p> + +<p>"You're convinced of—all this?" he demanded suddenly. "Both of you? +It's your conviction?"</p> + +<p>"It's mine," answered Tallington quietly.</p> + +<p>"I'd give a good deal for your sake, Bent, if it were not mine," said +Brereton. "But—it is mine. I'm—sure!"</p> + +<p>Bent jumped from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Which of them is it, then?" he exclaimed. "Gad!—you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> don't mean to say +that Cotherstone is—a murderer! Good heavens!—think of what that would +mean to—to——"</p> + +<p>Tallington got up and laid a hand on Bent's arm.</p> + +<p>"We won't say or think anything until we hear what Cotherstone has to +say," he said. "I'll step along the street and fetch him, myself. I know +he'll be alone just now, because I saw Mallalieu go into the Town Hall +ten minutes ago—there's an important committee meeting there this +morning over which he has to preside. Pull yourself together, +Bent—Cotherstone may have some explanation of everything."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu & Cotherstone's office was only a few yards away along the +street; Tallington was back from it with Cotherstone in five minutes. +And Brereton, looking closely at Cotherstone as he entered and saw who +awaited him, was certain that Cotherstone was ready for anything. A +sudden gleam of understanding came into his sharp eyes; it was as if he +said to himself that here was a moment, a situation, a crisis, which he +had anticipated, and—he was prepared. It was an outwardly calm and cool +Cotherstone, who, with a quick glance at all three men and at the closed +door, took the chair which Tallington handed to him, and turned on the +solicitor with a single word.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"As I told you in coming along," said Tallington, "we want to speak to +you privately about some information which has been placed in our +hands—that is, of course, in Mr. Brereton's and in mine. We have +thought it well to already acquaint Mr. Bent with it. All this is +between ourselves, Mr. Cotherstone—so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> treat us as candidly as we'll +treat you. I can put everything to you in a few words. They're painful. +Are you and your partner, Mr. Mallalieu, the same persons as the +Chidforth and Mallows who were prosecuted for fraud at Wilchester +Assizes in 1881 and sentenced to two years' imprisonment?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone neither started nor flinched. There was no sign of weakness +nor of hesitation about him now. Instead, he seemed to have suddenly +recovered all the sharpness and vigour with which two at any rate of the +three men who were so intently watching him had always associated with +him. He sat erect and watchful in his chair, and his voice became clear +and strong.</p> + +<p>"Before I answer that question, Mr. Tallington," he said, "I'll ask one +of Mr. Bent here. It's this—is my daughter going to suffer from aught +that may or may not be raked up against her father? Let me know +that!—if you want any words from me."</p> + +<p>Bent flushed angrily.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know what my answer is!" he exclaimed. "It's no!"</p> + +<p>"That'll do!" said Cotherstone. "I know you—you're a man of your word." +He turned to Tallington. "Now I'll reply to you," he went on. "My +answer's in one word, too. Yes!"</p> + +<p>Tallington opened Kitely's scrap-book at the account of the trial at +Wilchester, placed it before Cotherstone, and indicated certain lines +with the point of a pencil.</p> + +<p>"You're the Chidforth mentioned there?" he asked quietly. "And your +partner's the Mallows?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>"That's so," replied Cotherstone, so imperturbably that all three looked +at him in astonishment. "That's quite so, Mr. Tallington."</p> + +<p>"And this is an accurate report of what happened?" asked Tallington, +trailing the pencil over the newspaper. "That is, as far as you can see +at a glance?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I daresay it is," said Cotherstone, airily. "That was the best +paper in the town—I daresay it's all right. Looks so, anyway."</p> + +<p>"You know that Kitely was present at that trial?" suggested Tallington, +who, like Brereton, was beginning to be mystified by Cotherstone's +coolness.</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Cotherstone, with a shake of his head, "I know now. But +I never did know until that afternoon of the day on which the old man +was murdered. If you're wanting the truth, he came into our office that +afternoon to pay his rent to me, and he told me then. And—if you want +more truth—he tried to blackmail me. He was to come next day—at four +o'clock—to hear what me and Mallalieu 'ud offer him for hush-money."</p> + +<p>"Then you told Mallalieu?" asked Tallington.</p> + +<p>"Of course I told him!" replied Cotherstone. "Told him as soon as Kitely +had gone. It was a facer for both of us—to be recognized, and to have +all that thrown up against us, after thirty years' honest work!"</p> + +<p>The three listeners looked silently at each other. A moment of suspence +passed. Then Tallington put the question which all three were burning +with eagerness to have answered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>"Mr. Cotherstone!—do you know who killed Kitely?"</p> + +<p>"No!" answered Cotherstone. "But I know who I think killed him!"</p> + +<p>"Who, then?" demanded Tallington.</p> + +<p>"The man who killed Bert Stoner," said Cotherstone firmly. "And for the +same reason."</p> + +<p>"And this man is——"</p> + +<p>Tallington left the question unfinished. For Cotherstone's alert face +took a new and determined expression, and he raised himself a little in +his chair and brought his lifted hand down heavily on the desk at his +side.</p> + +<p>"Mallalieu!" he exclaimed. "Mallalieu! I believe he killed Kitely. I +suspicioned it from the first, and I came certain of it on Sunday night. +Why? <i>Because I saw Mallalieu fell Stoner!</i>"</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence in the room for a long, painful minute. +Tallington broke it at last by repeating Cotherstone's last words.</p> + +<p>"You saw Mallalieu fell Stoner? Yourself?"</p> + +<p>"With these eyes! Look here!" exclaimed Cotherstone, again bringing his +hand down heavily on the desk. "I went up there by Hobwick Quarry on +Sunday afternoon—to do a bit of thinking. As I got to that spinney at +the edge of the quarry, I saw Mallalieu and our clerk. They were +fratching—quarrelling—I could hear 'em as well as see 'em. And I +slipped behind a big bush and waited and watched. I could see and hear, +even at thirty yards off, that Stoner was maddening Mallalieu, though of +course I couldn't distinguish precise words. And all of a sud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>den +Mallalieu's temper went, and he lets out with that heavy oak stick of +his and fetches the lad a crack right over his forehead—and with Stoner +starting suddenly back the old railings gave way and—down he went. +That's what I saw—and I saw Mallalieu kick that stick into the quarry +in a passion, and—I've got it!"</p> + +<p>"You've got it?" said Tallington.</p> + +<p>"I've got it!" repeated Cotherstone. "I watched Mallalieu—after this +was over. Once I thought he saw me—but he evidently decided he was +alone. I could see he was taking on rarely. He went down to the quarry +as it got dusk—he was there some time. Then at last he went away on the +opposite side. And I went down when he'd got clear away and I went +straight to where the stick was. And as I say, I've got it."</p> + +<p>Tallington looked at Brereton, and Brereton spoke for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cotherstone must see that all this should be told to the police," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit," replied Cotherstone. "I've not done telling my tales here +yet. Now that I am talking, I will talk! Bent!" he continued, turning to +his future son-in-law. "What I'm going to say now is for your benefit. +But these lawyers shall hear. This old Wilchester business has been +raked up—how, I don't know. Now then, you shall all know the truth +about that! I did two years—for what? For being Mallalieu's catspaw!"</p> + +<p>Tallington suddenly began to drum his fingers on the blotting-pad which +lay in front of him. From<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> this point he watched Cotherstone with an +appearance of speculative interest which was not lost on Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he remarked quietly. "You were Mallalieu's—or Mallows'—catspaw? +That is—he was the really guilty party in the Wilchester affair, of +Which that's an account?"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't it say here that he was treasurer?" retorted Cotherstone, +laying his hand on the open scrap-book. "He was—he'd full control of +the money. He drew me into things—drew me into 'em in such a clever way +that when the smash came I couldn't help myself. I had to go through +with it. And I never knew until—until the two years was over—that +Mallalieu had that money safely put away."</p> + +<p>"But—you got to know, eventually," remarked Tallington. "And—I +suppose—you agreed to make use of it?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone smote the table again.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said with some heat. "And don't you get any false ideas, Mr. +Tallington. Bent!—I've paid that money back—I, myself. Each penny of +it—two thousand pound, with four per cent. interest for thirty years! +I've done it—Mallalieu knows naught about it. And here's the receipt. +So now then!"</p> + +<p>"When did you pay it, Mr. Cotherstone?" asked Tallington, as Bent +unwillingly took the paper which Cotherstone drew from a pocket-book and +handed to him. "Some time ago, or lately?"</p> + +<p>"If you want to know," retorted Cotherstone, "it was the very day after +old Kitely was killed. I sent it through a friend of mine who still +lives in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> Wilchester. I wanted to be done with it—I didn't want to have +it brought up against me that anybody lost aught through my fault. And +so—I paid."</p> + +<p>"But—I'm only suggesting—you could have paid a long time before that, +couldn't you?" said Tallington. "The longer you waited, the more you had +to pay. Two thousand pounds, with thirty years' interest, at four per +cent.—why, that's four thousand four hundred pounds altogether!"</p> + +<p>"That's what he paid," said Bent. "Here's the receipt."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cotherstone is telling us—privately—everything," remarked +Tallington, glancing at the receipt and passing it on to Brereton. "I +wish he'd tell us—privately, as I say—why he paid that money the day +after Kitely's murder. Why, Mr. Cotherstone?"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone, ready enough to answer and to speak until then, flushed +angrily and shook his head. But he was about to speak when a gentle tap +came at Tallington's door, and before the solicitor could make any +response, the door was opened from without, and the +police-superintendent walked in, accompanied by two men whom Brereton +recognized as detectives from Norcaster.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Tallington," said the superintendent, "but I +heard Mr. Cotherstone was here. Mr. Cotherstone!—I shall have to ask +you to step across with me to the office. Will you come over now?—it'll +be best."</p> + +<p>"Not until I know what I'm wanted for," answered Cotherstone +determinedly. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>The superintendent sighed and shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>"Very well—it's not my fault, then," he answered. "The fact is we want +both you and Mr. Mallalieu for this Stoner affair. That's the plain +truth! The warrants were issued an hour ago—and we've got Mr. Mallalieu +already. Come on, Mr. Cotherstone!—there's no help for it."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE INTERRUPTED FLIGHT</h3> + +<p>Twenty-four hours after he had seen Stoner fall headlong into Hobwick +Quarry, Mallalieu made up his mind for flight. And as soon as he had +come to that moment of definite decision, he proceeded to arrange for +his disappearance with all the craft and subtlety of which he was a past +master. He would go, once and for all, and since he was to go he would +go in such a fashion that nobody should be able to trace him.</p> + +<p>After munching his sandwich and drinking his ale at the Highmarket Arms, +Mallalieu had gone away to Hobwick Quarry and taken a careful look +round. Just as he had expected, he found a policeman or two and a few +gaping townsfolk there. He made no concealment of his own curiosity; he +had come up, he said, to see what there was to be seen at the place +where his clerk had come to this sad end. He made one of the policemen +take him up to the broken railings at the brink of the quarry; together +they made a careful examination of the ground.</p> + +<p>"No signs of any footprints hereabouts, the superintendent says," +remarked Mallalieu as they looked around. "You haven't seen aught of +that sort!"</p> + +<p>"No, your Worship—we looked for that when we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> first came up," answered +the policeman. "You see this grass is that short and wiry that it's too +full of spring to show marks. No, there's naught, anywhere about—we've +looked a goodish way on both sides."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu went close to the edge of the quarry and looked down. His +sharp, ferrety eyes were searching everywhere for his stick. A little to +the right of his position the side of the quarry shelved less abruptly +than at the place where Stoner had fallen; on the gradual slope there, a +great mass of bramble and gorse, broom and bracken, clustered: he gazed +hard at it, thinking that the stick might have lodged in its meshes. It +would be an easy thing to see that stick in daylight; it was a brightish +yellow colour and would be easily distinguished against the prevalent +greens and browns around there. But he saw nothing of it, and his brain, +working around the event of the night before, began to have confused +notions of the ringing of the stick on the lime-stone slabs at the +bottom of the quarry.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" he said musingly, with a final look round. "A nasty place to fall +over, and a bad job—a bad job! Them rails," he continued, pointing to +the broken fencing, "why, they're rotten all through! If a man put his +weight on them, they'd be sure to give way. The poor young fellow must +ha' sat down to rest himself a bit, on the top one, and of course, smash +they went."</p> + +<p>"That's what I should ha' said, your Worship," agreed the policeman, +"but some of 'em that were up here seemed to think he'd been forced +through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> 'em, or thrown against 'em, violent, as it might be. They think +he was struck down—from the marks of a blow that they found."</p> + +<p>"Aye, just so," said Mallalieu, "but he could get many blows on him as +he fell down them rocks. Look for yourself!—there's not only rough +edges of stone down there, but snags and roots of old trees that he'd +strike against in falling. Accident, my lad!—that's what it's +been—sheer and pure accident."</p> + +<p>The policeman neither agreed with nor contradicted the Mayor, and +presently they went down to the bottom of the quarry again, where +Mallalieu, under pretence of thoroughly seeing into everything, walked +about all over the place. He did not find the stick, and he was quite +sure that nobody else had found it. Finally he went away, convinced that +it lay in some nook or cranny of the shelving slope on to which he had +kicked it in his sudden passion of rage. There, in all probability, it +would remain for ever, for it would never occur to the police that +whoever wielded whatever weapon it was that struck the blow would not +carry the weapon away with him. No—on the point of the stick Mallalieu +began to feel easy and confident.</p> + +<p>He grew still easier and more confident about the whole thing during the +course of the afternoon. He went about the town; he was in and out of +the Town Hall; he kept calling in at the police-station; he became +certain towards evening that no suspicion attached to himself—as yet. +But—only as yet. He knew something would come out. The big question +with him as he went home in the evening was—was he safe until the +afternoon of the next day? While he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> ate and drank in his lonely +dining-room, he decided that he was; by the time he had got through his +after-dinner cigar he had further decided that when the next night came +he would be safely away from Highmarket.</p> + +<p>But there were things to do that night. He spent an hour with a Bradshaw +and a map. While he reckoned up trains and glanced at distances and +situations his mind was busy with other schemes, for he had all his life +been a man who could think of more than one thing at once. And at the +end of the hour he had decided on a plan of action.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu had two chief objects in immediate view. He wanted to go away +openly from Highmarket without exciting suspicion: that was one. He +wanted to make it known that he had gone to some definite place, on some +definite mission; that was the other. And in reckoning up his chances he +saw how fortune was favouring him. At that very time the Highmarket Town +Council was very much concerned and busied about a new water-supply. +There was a project afoot for joining with another town, some miles off, +in establishing a new system and making a new reservoir on the adjacent +hills, and on the very next morning Mallalieu himself was to preside +over a specially-summoned committee which was to debate certain matters +relating to this scheme. He saw how he could make use of that +appointment. He would profess that he was not exactly pleased with some +of the provisions of the proposed amalgamation, and would state his +intention, in open meeting, of going over in person to the other town +that very evening to see its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> authorities on the points whereon he was +not satisfied. Nobody would see anything suspicious in his going away on +Corporation business. An excellent plan for his purpose—for in order to +reach the other town it would be necessary to pass through Norcaster, +where he would have to change stations. And Norcaster was a very big +city, and a thickly-populated one, and it had some obscure parts with +which Mallalieu was well-acquainted—and in Norcaster he could enter on +the first important stage of his flight.</p> + +<p>And so, being determined, Mallalieu made his final preparations. They +were all connected with money. If he felt a pang at the thought of +leaving his Highmarket property behind him, it was assuaged by the +reflection that, after all, that property only represented the price of +his personal safety—perhaps (though he did not like to think of that) +of his life. Besides, events might turn out so luckily that the +enjoyment of it might be restored to him—it was possible. Whether that +possibility ever came off or not, he literally dared not regard it just +then. To put himself in safety was the one, the vital consideration. And +his Highmarket property and his share in the business only represented a +part of Mallalieu's wealth. He could afford to do without all that he +left behind him; it was a lot to leave, he sighed regretfully, but he +would still be a very wealthy man if he never touched a pennyworth of it +again.</p> + +<p>From the moment in which Mallalieu had discovered that Kitely knew the +secret of the Wilchester affair he had prepared for eventualities, and +Kitely's death had made no difference to his plans. If one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> man could +find all that out, he argued, half a dozen other men might find it out. +The murder of the ex-detective, indeed, had strengthened his resolve to +be prepared. He foresaw that suspicion might fall on Cotherstone; deeper +reflection showed him that if Cotherstone became an object of suspicion +he himself would not escape. And so he had prepared himself. He had got +together his valuable securities; they were all neatly bestowed in a +stout envelope which fitted into the inner pocket of a waistcoat which +he once had specially made to his own design: a cleverly arranged +garment, in which a man could carry a lot of wealth—in paper. There in +that pocket it all was—Government stock, railway stock, scrip, shares, +all easily convertible, anywhere in the world where men bought and sold +the best of gilt-edged securities. And in another pocket Mallalieu had a +wad of bank-notes which he had secured during the previous week from a +London bank at which he kept an account, and in yet another, a cunningly +arranged one, lined out with wash-leather, and secured by a strong flap, +belted and buckled, he carried gold.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu kept that waistcoat and its precious contents under his pillow +that night. And next morning he attired himself with particular care, +and in the hip pocket of his trousers he placed a revolver which he had +recently purchased, and for the first time for a fortnight he ate his +usual hearty breakfast. After which he got into his most serviceable +overcoat and went away townwards ... and if anybody had been watching +him they would have seen that Mallalieu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> never once turned his head to +take a look at the house which he had built, and might be leaving for +ever.</p> + +<p>Everything that Mallalieu did that morning was done with method. He was +in and about his office and his yard for an hour or two, attending to +business in his customary fashion. He saw Cotherstone, and did not speak +to him except on absolutely necessary matters. No word was said by +either in relation to Stoner's death. But about ten o'clock Mallalieu +went across to the police-station and into the superintendent's office, +and convinced himself that nothing further had come to light, and no new +information had been given. The coroner's officer was with the police, +and Mallalieu discussed with him and them some arrangements about the +inquest. With every moment the certainty that he was safe increased—and +at eleven o'clock he went into the Town Hall to his committee meeting.</p> + +<p>Had Mallalieu chanced to look back at the door of the police-station as +he entered the ancient door of the Town Hall he would have seen three +men drive up there in a motor-car which had come from Norcaster—one of +the men being Myler, and the other two Norcaster detectives. But +Mallalieu did not look back. He went up to the committee-room and became +absorbed in the business of the meeting. His fellow committee-men said +afterwards that they never remembered the Mayor being in such fettle for +business. He explained his objections to the scheme they were +considering; he pointed out this and urged that—finally, he said that +he was so little satisfied with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> the project that he would go and see +the Mayor of the sister town that very evening, and discuss the matter +with him to the last detail.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu stepped out of the committee-room to find the superintendent +awaiting him in the corridor. The superintendent was pale and trembling, +and his eyes met Mallalieu's with a strange, deprecating expression. +Before he could speak, two strangers emerged from a doorway and came +close up. And a sudden sickening sense of danger came over Mallalieu, +and his tongue failed him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mayor!" faltered the superintendent. "I—I can't help it! These are +officers from Norcaster, sir—there's a warrant for your arrest. +It's—it's the Stoner affair!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>THE HAND IN THE DARKNESS</h3> + +<p>The Highmarket clocks were striking noon when Mallalieu was arrested. +For three hours he remained under lock and key, in a room in the Town +Hall—most of the time alone. His lunch was brought to him; every +consideration was shown him. The police wanted to send for his solicitor +from Norcaster; Mallalieu bade them mind their own business. He turned a +deaf ear to the superintendent's entreaties to him to see some friend; +let him mind his own business too, said Mallalieu. He himself would do +nothing until he saw the need to do something. Let him hear what could +be brought against him—time enough to speak and act then. He ate his +lunch, he smoked a cigar; he walked out of the room with defiant eye and +head erect when they came to fetch him before a specially summoned bench +of his fellow-magistrates. And it was not until he stepped into the +dock, in full view of a crowded court, and amidst quivering excitement, +that he and Cotherstone met.</p> + +<p>The news of the partners' arrest had flown through the little town like +wildfire. There was no need to keep it secret; no reason why it should +be kept secret.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> It was necessary to bring the accused men before the +magistrates as quickly as possible, and the days of private inquiries +were long over. Before the Highmarket folk had well swallowed their +dinners, every street in the town, every shop, office, bar-parlour, +public-house, private house rang with the news—Mallalieu and +Cotherstone, the Mayor and the Borough Treasurer, had been arrested for +the murder of their clerk, and would be put before the magistrates at +three o'clock. The Kitely affair faded into insignificance—except +amongst the cute and knowing few, who immediately began to ask if the +Hobwick Quarry murder had anything to do with the murder on the Shawl.</p> + +<p>If Mallalieu and Cotherstone could have looked out of the windows of the +court in the Town Hall, they would have seen the Market Square packed +with a restless and seething crowd of townsfolk, all clamouring for +whatever news could permeate from the packed chamber into which so few +had been able to fight a way. But the prisoners seemed strangely +indifferent to their surroundings. Those who watched them closely—as +Brereton and Tallington did—noticed that neither took any notice of the +other. Cotherstone had been placed in the dock first. When Mallalieu was +brought there, a moment later, the two exchanged one swift glance and no +more—Cotherstone immediately moved off to the far corner on the left +hand, Mallalieu remained in the opposite one, and placing his hands in +the pockets of his overcoat, he squared his shoulders and straitened his +big frame and took a calm and apparently contemptuous look round about him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Brereton, sitting at a corner of the solicitor's table, and having +nothing to do but play the part of spectator, watched these two men +carefully and with absorbed interest from first to last. He was soon +aware of the vastly different feelings with which they themselves +watched the proceedings. Cotherstone was eager and restless; he could +not keep still; he moved his position; he glanced about him; he looked +as if he were on the verge of bursting into indignant or explanatory +speech every now and then—though, as a matter of fact, he restrained +whatever instinct he had in that direction. But Mallalieu never moved, +never changed his attitude. His expression of disdainful, contemptuous +watchfulness never left him—after the first moments and the formalities +were over, he kept his eyes on the witness-box and on the people who +entered it. Brereton, since his first meeting with Mallalieu, had often +said to himself that the Mayor of Highmarket had the slyest eyes of any +man he had even seen—but he was forced to admit now that, however sly +Mallalieu's eyes were, they could, on occasion, be extraordinarily +steady.</p> + +<p>The truth was that Mallalieu was playing a part. He had outlined it, +unconsciously, when he said to the superintendent that it would be time +enough for him to do something when he knew what could be brought +against him. And now all his attention was given to the two or three +witnesses whom the prosecution thought it necessary to call. He wanted +to know who they were. He curbed his impatience while the formal +evidence of arrest was given, but his ears pricked a little when he +heard one of the police wit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>nesses speak of the warrant having been +issued on information received. "What information? Received from whom?" +He half-turned as a sharp official voice called the name of the first +important witness.</p> + +<p>"David Myler!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu stared at David Myler as if he would tear whatever secret he +had out of him with a searching glance. Who was David Myler? No +Highmarket man—that was certain. Who was he, then?—what did he +know?—was he some detective who had been privately working up this +case? A cool, quiet, determined-looking young fellow, anyway. Confound +him! But—what had he to do with this?</p> + +<p>Those questions were speedily answered for Mallalieu. He kept his +immovable attitude, his immobile expression, while Myler told the story +of Stoner's visit to Darlington, and of the revelation which had +resulted. And nothing proved his extraordinary command over his temper +and his feelings better than the fact that as Myler narrated one damning +thing after another, he never showed the least concern or uneasiness.</p> + +<p>But deep within himself Mallalieu was feeling a lot. He knew now that he +had been mistaken in thinking that Stoner had kept his knowledge to +himself. He also knew what line the prosecution was taking. It was +seeking to show that Stoner was murdered by Cotherstone and himself, or +by one or other, separately or in collusion, in order that he might be +silenced. But he knew more than that. Long practice and much natural +inclination had taught Mal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>lalieu the art of thinking ahead, and he +could foresee as well as any man of his acquaintance. He foresaw the +trend of events in this affair. This was only a preliminary. The +prosecution was charging him and Cotherstone with the murder of Stoner +today: it would be charging them with the murder of Kitely tomorrow.</p> + +<p>Myler's evidence caused a profound sensation in court—but there was +even more sensation and more excitement when Myler's father-in-law +followed him in the witness-box. It was literally in a breathless +silence that the old man told the story of the crime of thirty years +ago; it was a wonderfully dramatic moment when he declared that in spite +of the long time that had elapsed he recognized the Mallalieu and +Cotherstone of Highmarket as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had known +at Wilchester.</p> + +<p>Even then Mallalieu had not flinched. Cotherstone flushed, grew +restless, hung his head a little, looked as if he would like to explain. +But Mallalieu continued to stare fixedly across the court. He cared +nothing that the revelation had been made at last. Now that it had been +made, in full publicity, he did not care a brass farthing if every man +and woman in Highmarket knew that he was an ex-gaol-bird. That was far +away in the dead past—what he cared about was the present and the +future. And his sharp wits told him that if the evidence of Myler and of +old Pursey was all that the prosecution could bring against him, he was +safe. That there had been a secret, that Stoner had come into possession +of it, that Stoner was about to make profit of it, was no proof that he +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> Cotherstone, or either of them, had murdered Stoner. No—if that +was all....</p> + +<p>But in another moment Mallalieu knew that it was not all. Up to that +moment he had firmly believed that he had got away from Hobwick Quarry +unobserved. Here he was wrong. He had now to learn that a young man from +Norcaster had come over to Highmarket that Sunday afternoon to visit his +sweetheart; that this couple had gone up the moors; that they were on +the opposite side of Hobwick Quarry when he went down into it after +Stoner's fall; that they had seen him move about and finally go away; +what was more, they had seen Cotherstone descend into the quarry and +recover the stick; Cotherstone had passed near them as they stood hidden +in the bushes; they had seen the stick in his hand.</p> + +<p>When Mallalieu heard all this and saw his stick produced and identified, +he ceased to take any further interest in that stage of the proceedings. +He knew the worst now, and he began to think of his plans and schemes. +And suddenly, all the evidence for that time being over, and the +magistrates and the officials being in the thick of some whispered +consultations about the adjournment, Mallalieu spoke for the first time.</p> + +<p>"I shall have my answer about all this business at the right time and +place," he said loudly. "My partner can do what he likes. All I have to +say now is that I ask for bail. You can fix it at any amount you like. +You all know me."</p> + +<p>The magistrates and the officials looked across the well of the court in +astonishment, and the chairman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> a mild old gentleman who was obviously +much distressed by the revelation, shook his head deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" he remonstrated. "Quite impossible! We haven't the +power——"</p> + +<p>"You're wrong!" retorted Mallalieu, masterful and insistent as ever. +"You have the power! D'ye think I've been a justice of the peace for +twelve years without knowing what law is? You've the power to admit to +bail in all charges of felony, at your discretion. So now then!"</p> + +<p>The magistrates looked at their clerk, and the clerk smiled.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mallalieu's theory is correct," he said quietly. "But no magistrate +is obliged to admit to bail in felonies and misdemeanours, and in +practice bail is never allowed in cases where—as in this case—the +charge is one of murder. Such procedure is unheard of."</p> + +<p>"Make a precedent, then!" sneered Mallalieu. "Here!—you can have twenty +thousand pounds security, if you like."</p> + +<p>But this offer received no answer, and in five minutes more Mallalieu +heard the case adjourned for a week and himself and Cotherstone +committed to Norcaster Gaol in the meantime. Without a look at his +fellow-prisoner he turned out of the dock and was escorted back to the +private room in the Town Hall from which he had been brought.</p> + +<p>"Hang 'em for a lot of fools!" he burst out to the superintendent, who +had accompanied him. "Do they think I'm going to run away? Likely +thing—on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> a trumped-up charge like this. Here!—how soon shall you be +wanting to start for yon place?"</p> + +<p>The superintendent, who had cherished considerable respect for Mallalieu +in the past, and was much upset and very downcast about this sudden +change in the Mayor's fortunes, looked at his prisoner and shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"There's a couple of cars ordered to be ready in half an hour, Mr. +Mallalieu," he answered. "One for you, and one for Mr. Cotherstone."</p> + +<p>"With armed escorts in both, I suppose!" sneered Mallalieu. "Well, look +here—you've time to get me a cup of tea. Slip out and get one o' your +men to nip across to the Arms for it—good, strong tea, and a slice or +two of bread-and-butter. I can do with it."</p> + +<p>He flung half a crown on the table, and the superintendent, suspecting +nothing, and willing to oblige a man who had always been friendly and +genial towards himself, went out of the room, with no further +precautions than the turning of the key in the lock when he had once got +outside the door. It never entered his head that the prisoner would try +to escape, never crossed his mind that Mallalieu had any chance of +escaping. He went away along the corridor to find one of his men who +could be dispatched to the Highmarket Arms.</p> + +<p>But the instant Mallalieu was left alone he started into action. He had +not been Mayor of Highmarket for two years, a member of its Corporation +for nearly twenty, without knowing all the ins-and-outs of that old Town +Hall. And as soon as the superintendent had left him he drew from his +pocket a key, went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> across the room to a door which stood in a corner +behind a curtain, unlocked it, opened it gently, looked out, passed into +a lobby without, relocked the door behind him, and in another instant +was stealing quietly down a private staircase that led to an entrance +into the quaint old garden at the back of the premises. One further +moment of suspense and of looking round, and he was safely in that +garden and behind the thick shrubs which ran along one of its high +walls. Yet another and he was out of the garden, and in an old-fashioned +orchard which ran, thick with trees, to the very edge of the coppices at +the foot of the Shawl. Once in that orchard, screened by its +close-branched, low-spreading boughs, leafless though they were at that +period of the year, he paused to get his breath, and to chuckle over the +success of his scheme. What a mercy, what blessing, he thought, that +they had not searched him on his arrest!—that they had delayed that +interesting ceremony until his committal! The omission, he knew, had +been winked at—purposely—and it had left him with his precious +waistcoat, his revolver, and the key that had opened his prison door.</p> + +<p>Dusk had fallen over Highmarket before the hearing came to an end, and +it was now dark. Mallalieu knew that he had little time to lose—but he +also knew that his pursuers would have hard work to catch him. He had +laid his plans while the last two witnesses were in the box: his +detailed knowledge of the town and its immediate neighbourhood stood in +good stead. Moreover, the geographical situation of the Town Hall was a +great help. He had nothing to do but steal out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> of the orchard into the +coppices, make his way cautiously through them into the deeper wood +which fringed the Shawl, pass through that to the ridge at the top, and +gain the moors. Once on those moors he would strike by devious way for +Norcaster—he knew a safe place in the Lower Town there where he could +be hidden for a month, three months, six months, without fear of +discovery, and from whence he could get away by ship.</p> + +<p>All was quiet as he passed through a gap in the orchard hedge and stole +into the coppices. He kept stealthily but swiftly along through the pine +and fir until he came to the wood which covered the higher part of the +Shawl. The trees were much thicker there, the brakes and bushes were +thicker, and the darkness was greater. He was obliged to move at a +slower pace—and suddenly he heard men's voices on the lower slopes +beneath him. He paused catching his breath and listening. And then, just +as suddenly as he had heard the voices, he felt a hand, firm, steady, +sinewy, fasten on his wrist and stay there.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY</h3> + +<p>The tightening of that sinewy grip on Mallalieu's wrist so startled him +that it was only by a great effort that he restrained himself from +crying out and from breaking into one of his fits of trembling. This +sudden arrest was all the more disturbing to his mental composure +because, for the moment, he could not see to whom the hand belonged. But +as he twisted round he became aware of a tall, thin shape at his elbow; +the next instant a whisper stole to his ear.</p> + +<p>"H'sh! Be careful!—there's men down there on the path!—they're very +like after you," said the voice. "Wait here a minute!"</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" demanded Mallalieu hoarsely. He was endeavouring to free +his wrist, but the steel-like fingers clung. "Let go my hand!" he said. +"D'ye hear?—let it go!"</p> + +<p>"Wait!" said the voice. "It's for your own good. It's me—Miss Pett. I +saw you—against that patch of light between the trees there—I knew +your big figure. You've got away, of course. Well, you'll not get much +further if you don't trust to me. Wait till we hear which way them fellows go."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>Mallalieu resigned himself. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the +gloom of the wood, he made out that Miss Pett was standing just within +an opening in the trees; presently, as the voices beneath them became +fainter, she drew him into it.</p> + +<p>"This way!" she whispered. "Come close behind me—the house is close +by."</p> + +<p>"No!" protested Mallalieu angrily. "None of your houses! Here, I want to +be on the moors. What do you want—to keep your tongue still?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett paused and edged her thin figure close to Mallalieu's bulky +one.</p> + +<p>"It'll not be a question of my tongue if you once go out o' this wood," +she said. "They'll search those moors first thing. Don't be a +fool!—it'll be known all over the town by now! Come with me and I'll +put you where all the police in the county can't find you. But of +course, do as you like—only, I'm warning you. You haven't a cat's +chance if you set foot on that moor. Lord bless you, man!—don't they +know that there's only two places you could make for—Norcaster and +Hexendale? Is there any way to either of 'em except across the moors? +Come on, now—be sensible."</p> + +<p>"Go on, then!" growled Mallalieu. Wholly suspicious by nature, he was +wondering why this she-dragon, as he had so often called her, should be +at all desirous of sheltering him. Already he suspected her of some +design, some trick—and in the darkness he clapped his hand on the +hip-pocket in which he had placed his revolver. That was safe +enough—and again he thanked his stars that the police had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> searched +him. But however well he might be armed, he was for the time being in +Miss Pett's power—he knew very well that if he tried to slip away Miss +Pett had only to utter one shrill cry to attract attention. And so, much +as he desired the freedom of the moors, he allowed himself to be taken +captive by this gaoler who promised eventual liberty.</p> + +<p>Miss Pett waited in the thickness of the trees until the voices at the +foot of the Shawl became faint and far off; she herself knew well enough +that they were not the voices of men who were searching for Mallalieu, +but of country folk who had been into the town and were now returning +home by the lower path in the wood. But it suited her purposes to create +a spirit of impending danger in the Mayor, and so she kept him there, +her hand still on his arm, until the last sound died away. And while she +thus held him, Mallalieu, who had often observed Miss Pett in her +peregrinations through the Market Place, and had been accustomed to +speaking of her as a thread-paper, or as Mother Skin-and-Bones, because +of her phenomenal thinness, wondered how it was that a woman of such +extraordinary attenuation should possess such powerful fingers—her grip +on his wrist was like that of a vice. And somehow, in a fashion for +which he could not account, especially in the disturbed and anxious +state of his mind, he became aware that here in this strange woman was +some mental force which was superior to and was already dominating his +own, and for a moment he was tempted to shake the steel-like fingers off +and make a dash for the moorlands.</p> + +<p>But Miss Pett presently moved forward, holding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> Mallalieu as a nurse +might hold an unwilling child. She led him cautiously through the trees, +which there became thicker, she piloted him carefully down a path, and +into a shrubbery—she drew him through a gap in a hedgerow, and +Mallalieu knew then that they were in the kitchen garden at the rear of +old Kitely's cottage. Quietly and stealthily, moving herself as if her +feet were shod with velvet, Miss Pett made her way with her captive to +the door; Mallalieu heard the rasping of a key in a lock, the lifting of +a latch; then he was gently but firmly pushed into darkness. Behind him +the door closed—a bolt was shot home.</p> + +<p>"This way!" whispered Miss Pett. She drew him after her along what he +felt to be a passage, twisted him to the left through another doorway, +and then, for the first time since she had assumed charge of him, +released his wrist. "Wait!" she said. "We'll have a light presently."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu stood where she had placed him, impatient of everything, but +feeling powerless to move. He heard Miss Pett move about; he heard the +drawing to and barring of shutters, the swish of curtains being pulled +together; then the spurt and glare of a match—in its feeble flame he +saw Miss Pett's queer countenance, framed in an odd-shaped, +old-fashioned poke bonnet, bending towards a lamp. In the gradually +increasing light of that lamp Mallalieu looked anxiously around him.</p> + +<p>He was in a little room which was half-parlour, half bed-room. There was +a camp bed in one corner; there was an ancient knee-hole writing desk +under the window across which the big curtains had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> drawn; there +were a couple of easy-chairs on either side of the hearth. There were +books and papers on a shelf; there were pictures and cartoons on the +walls. Mallalieu took a hasty glance at those unusual ornaments and +hated them: they were pictures of famous judges in their robes, and of +great criminal counsel in their wigs—and over the chimney-piece, framed +in black wood, was an old broad-sheet, printed in big, queer-shaped +letters: Mallalieu's hasty glance caught the staring headline—<i>Dying +Speech and Confession of the Famous Murderer</i>....</p> + +<p>"This was Kitely's snug," remarked Miss Pett calmly, as she turned up +the lamp to the full. "He slept in that bed, studied at that desk, and +smoked his pipe in that chair. He called it his +sanctum-something-or-other—I don't know no Latin. But it's a nice room, +and it's comfortable, or will be when I put a fire in that grate, and +it'll do very well for you until you can move. Sit you down—would you +like a drop of good whisky, now?"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu sat down and stared his hardest at Miss Pett. He felt himself +becoming more confused and puzzled than ever.</p> + +<p>"Look here, missis!" he said suddenly. "Let's get a clear idea about +things. You say you can keep me safe here until I can get away. How do +you know I shall be safe?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'll take good care that you are," answered Miss Pett. "There's +nobody can get into this house without my permission, and before I let +anybody in, no matter with what warrants or such-like they carried, I'd +see that you were out of it be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>fore they crossed the threshold. I'm no +fool, I can tell you, Mr. Mallalieu, and if you trust me——"</p> + +<p>"I've no choice, so it seems," remarked Mallalieu, grimly. "You've got +me! And now, how much are you reckoning to get out of me—what?"</p> + +<p>"No performance, no pay!" said Miss Pett. "Wait till I've managed things +for you. I know how to get you safely away from here—leave it to me, +and I'll have you put down in any part of Norcaster you like, without +anybody knowing. And if you like to make me a little present then——"</p> + +<p>"You're certain?" demanded Mallalieu, still suspicious, but glad to +welcome even a ray of hope. "You know what you're talking about?"</p> + +<p>"I never talk idle stuff," retorted Miss Pett. "I'm telling you what I +know."</p> + +<p>"All right, then," said Mallalieu. "You do your part, and I'll do mine +when it comes to it—you'll not find me ungenerous, missis. And I will +have that drop of whisky you talked about."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett went away, leaving Mallalieu to stare about him and to +meditate on this curious change in his fortunes. Well, after all, it was +better to be safe and snug under this queer old woman's charge than to +be locked up in Norcaster Gaol, or to be hunted about on the bleak moors +and possibly to go without food or drink. And his thoughts began to +assume a more cheerful complexion when Miss Pett presently brought him a +stiff glass of undeniably good liquor, and proceeded to light a fire in +his prison: he even melted so much as to offer her some thanks.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, missis," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> said, with an attempt at +graciousness. "I'll not forget you when it comes to settling up. But I +should feel a good deal easier in my mind if I knew two things. First of +all—you know, of course, I've got away from yon lot down yonder, else I +shouldn't ha' been where you found me. But—they'll raise the +hue-and-cry, missis! Now supposing they come here?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett lifted her queer face from the hearth, where she had been +blowing the sticks into a blaze.</p> + +<p>"There's such a thing as chance," she observed. "To start with, how much +chance is there that they'd ever think of coming here? Next to none! +They'd never suspect me of harbouring you. There is a chance that when +they look through these woods—as they will—they'll ask if I've seen +aught of you—well, you can leave the answer to me."</p> + +<p>"They might want to search," suggested Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"Not likely!" answered Miss Pett, with a shake of the poke bonnet. "But +even if they did, I'd take good care they didn't find you!"</p> + +<p>"Well—and what about getting me away?" asked Mallalieu. "How's that to +be done?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you that tomorrow," replied Miss Pett. "You make yourself +easy—I'll see you're all right. And now I'll go and cook you a nice +chop, for no doubt you'll do with something after all the stuff you had +to hear in the court."</p> + +<p>"You were there, then?" asked Mallalieu. "Lot o' stuff and nonsense! A +sensible woman like you——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>"A sensible woman like me only believes what she can prove," answered +Miss Pett.</p> + +<p>She went away and shut the door, and Mallalieu, left to himself, took +another heartening pull at his glass and proceeded to re-inspect his +quarters. The fire was blazing up: the room was warm and comfortable; +certainly he was fortunate. But he assured himself that the window was +properly shuttered, barred, and fully covered by the thick curtain, and +he stood by it for a moment listening intently for any sound of movement +without. No sound came, not even the wail of a somewhat strong wind +which he knew to be sweeping through the pine trees, and he came to the +conclusion that the old stone walls were almost sound-proof and that if +he and Miss Pett conversed in ordinary tones no eavesdroppers outside +the cottage could hear them. And presently he caught a sound within the +cottage—the sound of the sizzling of chops on a gridiron, and with it +came the pleasant and grateful smell of cooking meat, and Mallalieu +decided that he was hungry.</p> + +<p>To a man fixed as Mallalieu was at that time the evening which followed +was by no means unpleasant. Miss Pett served him as nice a little supper +as his own housekeeper would have given him; later on she favoured him +with her company. They talked of anything but the events of the day, and +Mallalieu began to think that the queer-looking woman was a remarkably +shrewd and intelligent person. There was but one drawback to his +captivity—Miss Pett would not let him smoke. Cigars, she said, might be +smelt outside the cottage, and nobody would credit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> her with the +consumption of such gentleman-like luxuries.</p> + +<p>"And if I were you," she said, at the end of an interesting conversation +which had covered a variety of subjects, "I should try to get a good +night's rest. I'll mix you a good glass of toddy such as the late Kitely +always let me mix for his nightcap, and then I'll leave you. The bed's +aired, there's plenty of clothing on it, all's safe, and you can sleep +as if you were a baby in a cradle, for I always sleep like a dog, with +one ear and an eye open, and I'll take good care naught disturbs you, so +there!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu drank the steaming glass of spirits and water which Miss Pett +presently brought him, and took her advice about going to bed. Without +ever knowing anything about it he fell into such a slumber as he had +never known in his life before. It was indeed so sound that he never +heard Miss Pett steal into his room, was not aware that she carefully +withdrew the precious waistcoat which, through a convenient hole in the +wall, she had watched him deposit under the rest of his garments on the +chair at his side, never knew that she carried it away into the +living-room on the other side of the cottage. For the strong flavour of +the lemon and the sweetness of the sugar which Miss Pett had put into +the hot toddy had utterly obscured the very slight taste of something +else which she had put in—something which was much stronger than the +generous dose of whisky, and was calculated to plunge Mallalieu into a +stupor from which not even an earthquake could have roused him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>Miss Pett examined the waistcoat at her leisure. Her thin fingers went +through every pocket and every paper, through the bank-notes, the scrip, +the shares, the securities. She put everything back in its place, after +a careful reckoning and estimation of the whole. And Mallalieu was as +deeply plunged in his slumbers as ever when she went back into his room +with her shaded light and her catlike tread, and she replaced the +garment exactly where she found it, and went out and shut the door as +lightly as a butterfly folds its wings.</p> + +<p>It was then eleven o'clock at night, and Miss Pett, instead of retiring +to her bed, sat down by the living-room fire and waited. The poke bonnet +had been replaced by the gay turban, and under its gold and scarlet her +strange, skeleton-like face gleamed like old ivory as she sat there with +the firelight playing on it. And so immobile was she, sitting with her +sinewy skin-and-bone arms lying folded over her silk apron, that she +might have been taken for an image rather than for a living woman.</p> + +<p>But as the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece neared midnight, Miss +Pett suddenly moved. Her sharp ears caught a scratching sound on the +shutter outside the window. And noiselessly she moved down the passage, +and noiselessly unbarred the front door, and just as noiselessly closed +it again behind the man who slipped in—Christopher, her nephew.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>STRICT BUSINESS LINES</h3> + +<p>Mr. Christopher Pett, warned by the uplifted finger of his aunt, +tip-toed into the living-room, and setting down his small travelling bag +on the table proceeded to divest himself of a thick overcoat, a warm +muffler, woollen gloves, and a silk hat. And Miss Pett, having closed +the outer and inner doors, came in and glanced inquiringly at him.</p> + +<p>"Which way did you come, this time?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"High Gill," replied Christopher. "Got an afternoon express that stopped +there. Jolly cold it was crossing those moors of yours, too, I can tell +you!—I can do with a drop of something. I say—is there anything afoot +about here?—anything going on?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Miss Pett, producing the whisky and the lemons. "And how do +you mean?"</p> + +<p>Christopher pulled an easy chair to the fire and stretched his hands to +the blaze.</p> + +<p>"Up there, on the moor," he answered. "There's fellows going about with +lights—lanterns, I should say. I didn't see 'em close at hand—there +were several of 'em crossing about—like fire-flies—as if the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> chaps +who carried 'em were searching for something."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett set the decanter and the materials for toddy on the table at +her nephew's side, and took a covered plate from the cupboard in the +corner.</p> + +<p>"Them's potted meat sandwiches," she said. "Very toothsome you'll find +'em—I didn't prepare much, for I knew you'd get your dinner on the +train. Yes, well, there is something afoot—they are searching. Not for +something, though, but for somebody. Mallalieu!"</p> + +<p>Christopher, his mouth full of sandwiches, and his hand laid on the +decanter, lifted a face full of new and alert interest.</p> + +<p>"The Mayor!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," assented Miss Pett. "Anthony Mallalieu, Esquire, Mayor of +Highmarket. They want him, does the police—bad!"</p> + +<p>Christopher still remained transfixed. The decanter was already tilted +in his hand, but he tilted it no further; the sandwich hung bulging in +his cheek.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he said. "Not for——" he paused, nodding his head towards +the front of the cottage where the wood lay "—not for—that? They ain't +suspicioning <i>him</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, but for killing his clerk, who'd found something out," replied Miss +Pett. "The clerk was killed Sunday; they took up Mallalieu and his +partner today, and tried 'em, and Mallalieu slipped the police somehow, +after the case was adjourned, and escaped. And—he's here!"</p> + +<p>Christopher had begun to pour the whisky into his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> glass. In his +astonishment he rattled the decanter against the rim.</p> + +<p>"What!" he exclaimed. "Here? In this cottage?"</p> + +<p>"In there," answered Miss Pett. "In Kitely's room. Safe and sound. +There's no danger. He'll not wake. I mixed him a glass of toddy before +he went to bed, and neither earthquakes nor fire-alarms 'ull wake him +before nine o'clock tomorrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Whew!" said Christopher. "Um! it's a dangerous game—it's harbouring, +you know. However, they'd suspect that he'd come here. Whatever made him +come here?"</p> + +<p>"I made him come here," replied Miss Pett. "I caught him in the wood +outside there, as I was coming back from the Town Hall, so I made him +come in. It'll pay very well, Chris."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pett, who was lifting his glass to his lips, arrested it in mid-air, +winked over its rim at his aunt, and smiled knowingly.</p> + +<p>"You're a good hand at business, I must say, old lady!" he remarked +admiringly. "Of course, of course, if you're doing a bit of business out +of it——"</p> + +<p>"That'll come tomorrow," said Miss Pett, seating herself at the table +and glancing at her nephew's bag. "We'll do our own business tonight. +Well, how have you come on?"</p> + +<p>Christopher munched and drank for a minute or two. Then he nodded, with +much satisfaction in his manner.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he answered. "I got what I consider a very good price. Sold +the whole lot to an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>other Brixton property-owner, got paid, and have +brought you the money. All of it—ain't even taken my costs, my +expenses, and my commission out of it—yet."</p> + +<p>"How much did you sell for?" asked Miss Pett.</p> + +<p>Christopher pulled his bag to his side and took a bundle of red-taped +documents from it.</p> + +<p>"You ought to think yourself jolly lucky," he said, wagging his head +admonitorily at his aunt. "I see a lot of the state of the property +market, and I can assure you I did uncommonly well for you. I shouldn't +have got what I did if it had been sold by auction. But the man I sold +to was a bit keen, 'cause he's already got adjacent property, and he +gave rather more than he would ha' done in other circumstances. I got," +he continued, consulting the topmost of his papers, "I got, in round +figures, three thousand four hundred—to be exact, three thousand four +hundred, seventeen, five, eleven."</p> + +<p>"Where's the money?" demanded Miss Pett.</p> + +<p>"It's here," answered Christopher, tapping his breast. "In my +pocket-book. Notes, big and little—so that we can settle up."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett stretched out her hand.</p> + +<p>"Hand it over!" she said.</p> + +<p>Christopher gave his aunt a sidelong glance.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't we better reckon up my costs and commission first?" he +suggested. "Here's an account of the costs—the commission, of course, +was to be settled between you and me."</p> + +<p>"We'll settle all that when you've handed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> money over," said Miss +Pett. "I haven't counted it yet."</p> + +<p>There was a certain unwillingness in Christopher Pett's manner as he +slowly produced a stout pocket-book and took from it a thick wad of +bank-notes. He pushed this across to his aunt, with a tiny heap of +silver and copper.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm trusting to you, you know," he said a little doubtfully. +"Don't forget that I've done well for you."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett made no answer. She had taken a pair of spectacles from her +pocket, and with these perched on the bridge of her sharp nose she +proceeded to count the notes, while her nephew alternately sipped at his +toddy and stroked his chin, meanwhile eyeing his relative's proceedings +with somewhat rueful looks.</p> + +<p>"Three thousand, four hundred and seventeen pounds, five shillings and +elevenpence," and Miss Pett calmly. "And them costs, now, and the +expenses—how much do they come to, Chris?"</p> + +<p>"Sixty-one, two, nine," answered Christopher, passing one of his papers +across the table with alacrity. "You'll find it quite right—I did it as +cheap as possible for you."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett set her elbow on her heap of bank-notes while she examined the +statement. That done, she looked over the tops of her spectacles at the +expectant Christopher.</p> + +<p>"Well, about that commission," she said. "Of course, you know, Chris, +you oughtn't to charge me what you'd charge other folks. You ought to do +it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> very reasonable indeed for me. What were you thinking of, now?"</p> + +<p>"I got the top price," remarked Christopher reflectively. "I got you +quite four hundred more than the market price. How would—how would five +per cent. be, now?"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett threw up the gay turban with a toss of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Five per cent!" she ejaculated. "Christopher Pett!—whatever are you +talking about? Why, that 'ud be a hundred and seventy pound! Eh, +dear!—nothing of the sort—it 'ud be as good as robbery. I'm astonished +at you."</p> + +<p>"Well, how much, then?" growled Christopher. "Hang it all!—don't be +close with your own nephew."</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a hundred pounds—to include the costs," said Miss Pett +firmly. "Not a penny more—but," she added, bending forward and nodding +her head towards that half of the cottage wherein Mallalieu slumbered so +heavily, "I'll give you something to boot—an opportunity of feathering +your nest out of—him!"</p> + +<p>Christopher's face, which had clouded heavily, lightened somewhat at +this, and he too glanced at the door.</p> + +<p>"Will it be worth it?" he asked doubtfully. "What is there to be got out +of him if he's flying from justice? He'll carry naught—and he can't get +at anything that he has, either."</p> + +<p>Miss Pett gave vent to a queer, dry chuckle; the sound of her laughter +always made her nephew think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> of the clicking of machinery that badly +wanted oiling.</p> + +<p>"He's heaps o' money on him!" she whispered. "After he dropped off +tonight I went through his pockets. We've only got to keep a tight hold +on him to get as much as ever we like! So—put your hundred in your +pocket, and we'll see about the other affair tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, of course, in that case!" said Christopher. He picked up the +banknote which his aunt pushed towards him and slipped it into his +purse. "We shall have to play on his fears a bit, you know," he +remarked.</p> + +<p>"I think we shall be equal to it—between us," answered Miss Pett drily. +"Them big, flabby men's easy frightened."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu was certainly frightened when he woke suddenly next morning to +find Miss Pett standing at the side of his bed. He glared at her for one +instant of wild alarm and started up on his pillows. Miss Pett laid one +of her claw-like hands on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't alarm yourself, mister," she said. "All's safe, and here's +something that'll do you good—a cup of nice hot coffee—real Mocha, to +which the late Kitely was partial—with a drop o'rum in it. Drink +it—and you shall have your breakfast in half an hour. It's past nine +o'clock."</p> + +<p>"I must have slept very sound," said Mallalieu, following his gaoler's +orders. "You say all's safe? Naught heard or seen?"</p> + +<p>"All's safe, all's serene," replied Miss Pett. "And you're in luck's +way, for there's my nephew Christopher arrived from London, to help me +about settling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> my affairs and removing my effects from this place, and +he's a lawyer and'll give you good advice."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu growled a little. He had seen Mr. Christopher Pett and he was +inclined to be doubtful of him.</p> + +<p>"Is he to be trusted?" he muttered. "I expect he'll have to be squared, +too!"</p> + +<p>"Not beyond reason," replied Miss Pett. "We're not unreasonable people, +our family. He's a very sensible young man, is Christopher. The late +Kitely had a very strong opinion of his abilities."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu had no doubt of Mr. Christopher Pett's abilities in a certain +direction after he had exchanged a few questions and answers with that +young gentleman. For Christopher was shrewd, sharp, practical and +judicial.</p> + +<p>"It's a very dangerous and—you'll excuse plain speaking under the +circumstances, sir—very foolish thing that you've done, Mr. Mallalieu," +he said, as he and the prisoner sat closeted together in the still +shuttered and curtained parlour-bedroom. "The mere fact of your making +your escape, sir, is what some would consider a proof of guilt—it is +indeed! And of course my aunt—and myself, in my small way—we're +running great risks, Mr. Mallalieu—we really are—great risks!"</p> + +<p>"Now then, you'll not lose by me," said Mallalieu. "I'm not a man of +straw."</p> + +<p>"All very well, sir," replied Christopher, "but even if you were a +millionaire and recompensed us on what I may term a princely scale—not +that we shall expect it, Mr. Mallalieu—the risks would be +extraordinary—ahem! I mean will be extraordinary. For you see,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> Mr. +Mallalieu, there's two or three things that's dead certain. To start +with, sir, it's absolutely impossible for you to get away from here by +yourself—you can't do it!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" growled Mallalieu. "I can get away at nightfall."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," affirmed Christopher stoutly. "I saw the condition of the +moors last night. Patrolled, Mr. Mallalieu, patrolled! By men with +lights. That patrolling, sir, will go on for many a night. Make up your +mind, Mr. Mallalieu, that if you set foot out of this house, you'll see +the inside of Norcaster Gaol before two hours is over!"</p> + +<p>"What do you advise, then?" demanded Mallalieu. "Here!—I'm fairly in +for it, so I'll tell you what my notion was. If I can once get to a +certain part of Norcaster, I'm safe. I can get away to the Continent +from there."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir," replied Christopher, "the thing is to devise a plan by +which you can be conveyed to Norcaster without suspicion. That'll have +to be arranged between me and my aunt—hence our risks on your behalf."</p> + +<p>"Your aunt said she'd a plan," remarked Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"Not quite matured, sir," said Christopher. "It needs a little +reflection and trimming, as it were. Now what I advise, Mr. Mallalieu, +is this—you keep snug here, with my aunt as sentinel—she assures me +that even if the police—don't be frightened, sir!—did come here, she +could hide you quite safely before ever she opened the door to them. As +for me, I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> go, casual-like, into the town, and do a bit of quiet +looking and listening. I shall be able to find out how the land lies, +sir—and when I return I'll report to you, and the three of us will put +our heads together."</p> + +<p>Leaving the captive in charge of Miss Pett, Christopher, having brushed +his silk hat and his overcoat and fitted on a pair of black kid gloves, +strolled solemnly into Highmarket. He was known to a few people there, +and he took good care to let those of his acquaintance who met him hear +that he had come down to arrange his aunt's affairs, and to help in the +removal of the household goods bequeathed to her by the deceased Kitely. +In proof of this he called in at the furniture remover's, to get an +estimate of the cost of removal to Norcaster Docks—thence, said +Christopher, the furniture could be taken by sea to London, where Miss +Pett intended to reside in future. At the furniture remover's, and in +such other shops as he visited, and in the bar-parlour of the Highmarket +Arms, where he stayed an hour or so, gossiping with the loungers, and +sipping a glass or two of dry sherry, Christopher picked up a great deal +of information. And at noon he returned to the cottage, having learned +that the police and everybody in Highmarket firmly believed that +Mallalieu had got clear and clean away the night before, and was already +far beyond pursuit. The police theory was that there had been collusion, +and that immediately on his escape he had been whirled off by some +person to whose identity there was as yet no clue.</p> + +<p>But Christopher Pett told a very different story to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> Mallalieu. The +moors, he said, were being patrolled night and day: it was believed the +fugitive was in hiding in one of the old quarries. Every road and +entrance to Norcaster, and to all the adjacent towns and stations, was +watched and guarded. There was no hope for Mallalieu but in the kindness +and contrivance of the aunt and the nephew, and Mallalieu recognized the +inevitable and was obliged to yield himself to their tender mercies.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>NO FURTHER EVIDENCE</h3> + +<p>While Mallalieu lay captive in the stronghold of Miss Pett, Cotherstone +was experiencing a quite different sort of incarceration in the +detention cells of Norcaster Gaol. Had he known where his partner was, +and under what circumstances Mallalieu had obtained deliverance from +official bolts and bars, Cotherstone would probably have laughed in his +sleeve and sneered at him for a fool. He had been calling Mallalieu a +fool, indeed, ever since the previous evening, when the police, +conducting him to Norcaster, had told him of the Mayor's escape from the +Town Hall. Nobody but an absolute fool, a consummate idiot, thought +Cotherstone, would have done a thing like that. The man who flies is the +man who has reason to fly—that was Cotherstone's opinion, and in his +belief ninety-nine out of every hundred persons in Highmarket would +share it. Mallalieu would now be set down as guilty—they would say he +dared not face things, that he knew he was doomed, that his escape was +the desperate act of a conscious criminal. Ass!—said Cotherstone, not +without a certain amount of malicious delight: they should none of them +have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> reason to say such things of him. He would make no attempt to +fly—no, not if they left the gate of Norcaster Gaol wide open to him! +It should be his particular care to have himself legally cleared—his +acquittal should be as public as the proceedings which had just taken +place. He went out of the dock with that resolve strong on him; he +carried it away to his cell at Norcaster; he woke in the morning with +it, stronger than ever. Cotherstone, instead of turning tail, was going +to fight—for his own hand.</p> + +<p>As a prisoner merely under detention, Cotherstone had privileges of +which he took good care to avail himself. Four people he desired to see, +and must see at once, on that first day in gaol—and he lost no time in +making known his desires. One—and the most important—person was a +certain solicitor in Norcaster who enjoyed a great reputation as a sharp +man of affairs. Another—scarcely less important—was a barrister who +resided in Norcaster, and had had it said of him for a whole generation +that he had restored more criminals to society than any man of his +profession then living. And the other two were his own daughter and +Windle Bent. Them he must see—but the men of law first.</p> + +<p>When the solicitor and the barrister came, Cotherstone talked to them as +he had never talked to anybody in his life. He very soon let them see +that he had two definite objects in sending for them: the first was to +tell them in plain language that money was of no consideration in the +matter of his defence; the second, that they had come there to hear him +lay down the law as to what they were to do. Talk he did,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> and they +listened—and Cotherstone had the satisfaction of seeing that they went +away duly impressed with all that he had said to them. He went back to +his cell from the room in which this interview had taken place +congratulating himself on his ability.</p> + +<p>"I shall be out of this, and all'll be clear, a week today!" he assured +himself. "We'll see where that fool of a Mallalieu is by then! For he'll +not get far, nor go hidden for thirty years, this time."</p> + +<p>He waited with some anxiety to see his daughter, not because he must see +her within the walls of a prison, but because he knew that by that time +she would have learned the secrets of that past which he had kept so +carefully hidden from her. Only child of his though she was, he felt +that Lettie was not altogether of his sort; he had often realized that +she was on a different mental plane from his own, and was also, in some +respects, a little of a mystery to him. How would she take all +this?—what would she say?—what effect would it have on her?—he +pondered these questions uneasily while he waited for her visit.</p> + +<p>But if Cotherstone had only known it, he need have suffered no anxiety +about Lettie. It had fallen to Bent to tell her the sad news the +afternoon before, and Bent had begged Brereton to go up to the house +with him. Bent was upset; Brereton disliked the task, though he +willingly shared in it. They need have had no anxiety, either. For +Lettie listened calmly and patiently until the whole story had been +told, showing neither alarm, nor indignation, nor excitement; her +self-composure astonished even Bent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> who thought, having been engaged +to her for twelve months, that he knew her pretty well.</p> + +<p>"I understand exactly," said Lettie, when, between them, they had told +her everything, laying particular stress on her father's version of +things. "It is all very annoying, of course, but then it is quite +simple, isn't it? Of course, Mr. Mallalieu has been the guilty person +all through, and poor father has been dragged into it. But then—all +that you have told me has only to be put before the—who is +it?—magistrates?—judges?—and then, of course, father will be entirely +cleared, and Mr. Mallalieu will be hanged. Windle—of course we shall +have to put off the wedding?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course!" agreed Bent. "We can't have any weddings until all this +business is cleared up."</p> + +<p>"That'll be so much better," said Lettie. "It really was becoming an +awful rush."</p> + +<p>Brereton glanced at Bent when they left the house.</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you on having a fiancée of a well-balanced mind, old +chap!" he said. "That was—a relief!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lettie's a girl of singularly calm and equable temperament," +answered Bent. "She's not easily upset, and she's quick at sizing things +up. And I say, Brereton, I've got to do all I can for Cotherstone, you +know. What about his defence?"</p> + +<p>"I should imagine that Cotherstone is already arranging his defence +himself," said Brereton. "He struck me during that talk this morning at +Tallington's as being very well able to take care of himself, Bent, and +I think you'll find when you visit him that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> he's already fixed things. +You won't perhaps see why, and I won't explain just now, but this +foolish running away of Mallalieu, who, of course, is sure to be caught, +is very much in Cotherstone's favour. I shall be much surprised if you +don't find Cotherstone in very good spirits, and if there aren't +developments in this affair within a day or two which will impress the +whole neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>Bent, visiting the prisoner in company with Lettie next day, found +Brereton's prediction correct. Cotherstone, hearing from his daughter's +own lips what she herself thought of the matter, and being reassured +that all was well between Bent and her, became not merely confident but +cheerily boastful. He would be free, and he would be cleared by that day +next week—he was not sorry, he said, that at last all this had come +out, for now he would be able to get rid of an incubus that had weighted +him all his life.</p> + +<p>"You're very confident, you know," remarked Bent.</p> + +<p>"Not beyond reason," asserted Cotherstone doggedly. "You wait till +tomorrow!"</p> + +<p>"What is there tomorrow?" asked Bent.</p> + +<p>"The inquest on Stoner is tomorrow," replied Cotherstone. "You be +there—and see and hear what happens."</p> + +<p>All of Highmarket population that could cram itself into the Coroner's +court was there next day when the adjourned inquest on the clerk's death +was held. Neither Bent nor Brereton nor Tallington had any notion of +what line was going to be taken by Cotherstone and his advisers, but +Tallington and Brereton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> exchanged glances when Cotherstone, in charge +of two warders from Norcaster, was brought in, and when the Norcaster +solicitor and the Norcaster barrister whom he had retained, shortly +afterwards presented themselves.</p> + +<p>"I begin to foresee," whispered Tallington. "Clever!—devilish clever!"</p> + +<p>"Just so," agreed Brereton, with a sidelong nod at the crowded seats +close by. "And there's somebody who's interested because it's going to +be devilish clever—that fellow Pett!"</p> + +<p>Christopher Pett was there, silk hat, black kid gloves and all, not +afraid of being professionally curious. Curiosity was the order of the +day: everybody present—of any intelligent perception—wanted to know +what the presence of Cotherstone, one of the two men accused of the +murder of Stoner, signified. But it was some little time before any +curiosity was satisfied. The inquest being an adjourned one, most of the +available evidence had to be taken, and as a coroner has a wide field in +the calling of witnesses, there was more evidence produced before him +and his jury than before the magistrates. There was Myler, of course, +and old Pursey, and the sweethearting couple: there were other +witnesses, railway folks, medical experts, and townspeople who could +contribute some small quota of testimony. But all these were forgotten +when at last Cotherstone, having been duly warned by the coroner that he +need not give any evidence at all, determinedly entered the +witness-box—to swear on oath that he was witness to his partner's crime.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>Nothing could shake Cotherstone's evidence. He told a plain, +straightforward story from first to last. He had no knowledge whatever +of Stoner's having found out the secret of the Wilchester affair. He +knew nothing of Stoner's having gone over to Darlington. On the Sunday +he himself had gone up the moors for a quiet stroll. At the spinney +overhanging Hobwick Quarry he had seen Mallalieu and Stoner, and had at +once noticed that something in the shape of a quarrel was afoot. He saw +Mallalieu strike heavily at Stoner with his oak stick—saw Mallalieu, in +a sudden passion, kick the stick over the edge of the quarry, watched +him go down into the quarry and eventually leave it. He told how he +himself had gone after the stick, recovered it, taken it home, and had +eventually told the police where it was. He had never spoken to +Mallalieu on that Sunday—never seen him except under the circumstances +just detailed.</p> + +<p>The astute barrister who represented Cotherstone had not troubled the +Coroner and his jury much by asking questions of the various witnesses. +But he had quietly elicited from all the medical men the definite +opinion that death had been caused by the blow. And when Cotherstone's +evidence was over, the barrister insisted on recalling the two +sweethearts, and he got out of them, separately (each being excluded +from the court while the other gave evidence), that they had not seen +Mallalieu and Cotherstone together, that Mallalieu had left the quarry +some time before they saw Cotherstone, and that when Mallalieu passed +them he seemed to be agitated and was muttering to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> himself, whereas in +Cotherstone's manner they noticed nothing remarkable.</p> + +<p>Brereton, watching the faces of the jurymen, all tradesmen of the town, +serious and anxious, saw the effect which Cotherstone's evidence and the +further admissions of the two sweethearts was having. And neither he nor +Tallington—and certainly not Mr. Christopher Pett—was surprised when, +in the gathering dusk of the afternoon, the inquest came to an end with +a verdict of <i>Wilful Murder against Anthony Mallalieu</i>.</p> + +<p>"Your client is doing very well," observed Tallington to the Norcaster +solicitor as they foregathered in an ante-room.</p> + +<p>"My client will be still better when he comes before your bench again," +drily answered the other. "As you'll see!"</p> + +<p>"So that's the line you're taking?" said Tallington quietly. "A good +one—for him."</p> + +<p>"Every man for himself," remarked the Norcaster practitioner. "We're not +concerned with Mallalieu—we're concerned about ourselves. See you when +Cotherstone's brought before your worthies next Tuesday. And—a word in +your ear!—it won't be a long job, then."</p> + +<p>Long job or short job, the Highmarket Town Hall was packed to the doors +when Cotherstone, after his week's detention, was again placed in the +dock. This time, he stood there alone—and he looked around him with +confidence and with not a few signs that he felt a sense of coming +triumph. He listened with a quiet smile while the prosecuting +counsel—sent down spe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>cially from London to take charge—discussed with +the magistrates the matter of Mallalieu's escape, and he showed more +interest when he heard some police information as to how that escape had +been effected, and that up to then not a word had been heard and no +trace found of the fugitive. And after that, as the prosecuting counsel +bent over to exchange a whispered word with the magistrates' clerk, +Cotherstone deliberately turned, and seeking out the place where Bent +and Brereton sat together, favoured them with a peculiar glance. It was +the glance of a man who wished to say "I told you!—now you'll see +whether I was right!"</p> + +<p>"We're going to hear something—now!" whispered Brereton.</p> + +<p>The prosecuting counsel straightened himself and looked at the +magistrates. There was a momentary hesitation on his part; a look of +expectancy on the faces of the men on the bench; a deep silence in the +crowded court. The few words that came from the counsel were sharp and +decisive.</p> + +<p>"There will be no further evidence against the prisoner now in the dock, +your worships," he said. "The prosecution decides to withdraw the +charge."</p> + +<p>In the buzz of excitement which followed the voice of the old chairman +was scarcely audible as he glanced at Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>"You are discharged," he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone turned and left the dock. And for the second time he looked +at Bent and Brereton in the same peculiar, searching way. Then, amidst a +dead silence, he walked out of the court.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE VIRTUES OF SUSPICION</h3> + +<p>During that week Mallalieu was to learn by sad experience that it is a +very poor thing to acquire information at second hand. There he was, a +strictly-guarded—if a cosseted and pampered—prisoner, unable to put +his nose outside the cottage, and entirely dependent on Chris Pett for +any and all news of the world which lay so close at hand and was just +then so deeply and importantly interesting to him. Time hung very +heavily on his hands. There were books enough on the shelves of his +prison-parlour, but the late Kitely's taste had been of a purely +professional nature, and just then Mallalieu had no liking for murder +cases, criminal trials, and that sort of gruesomeness. He was constantly +asking for newspapers, and was skilfully put off—it was not within +Christopher's scheme of things to let Mallalieu get any accurate notion +of what was really going on. Miss Pett did not take in a newspaper; +Christopher invariably forgot to bring one in when he went to the town; +twice, being pressed by Mallalieu to remember, he brought back <i>The +Times</i> of the day before—wherein, of course, Mallalieu failed to find +anything about himself. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> it was about himself that he so wanted to +hear, about how things were, how people talked of him, what the police +said, what was happening generally, and his only source of information +was Chris.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pett took good care to represent everything in his own fashion. He +was assiduous in assuring Mallalieu that he was working in his interest +with might and main; jealous in proclaiming his own and his aunt's +intention to get him clear away to Norcaster. But he also never ceased +dilating on the serious nature of that enterprise, never wearied in +protesting how much risk he and Miss Pett were running; never refrained +from showing the captive how very black things were, and how much +blacker they would be if it were not for his present gaolers' goodness. +And when he returned to the cottage after the inquest on Stoner, his +face was unusually long and grave as he prepared to tell Mallalieu the +news.</p> + +<p>"Things are looking in a very bad way for you, Mr. Mallalieu," he +whispered, when he was closeted with Mallalieu in the little room which +the captive now hated fiercely and loathingly. "They look in a very bad +way indeed, sir! If you were in any other hands than ours, Mr. +Mallalieu, I don't know what you'd do. We're running the most fearful +risks on your behalf, we are indeed. Things is—dismal!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu's temper, never too good, and all the worse for his enforced +confinement, blazed up.</p> + +<p>"Hang it! why don't you speak out plain?" he snarled. "Say what you +mean, and be done with it! What's up now, like? Things are no worse than +they were, I reckon."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>Christopher slowly drew off one of the black kid gloves, and blew into +it before laying it on the table.</p> + +<p>"No need to use strong language, Mr. Mallalieu," he said deprecatingly, +as he calmly proceeded to divest the other hand. "No need at all, +sir—between friends and gentlemen, Mr. Mallalieu!—things are a lot +worse. The coroner's jury has returned a verdict of wilful +murder—against you!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu's big face turned of a queer grey hue—that word murder was +particularly distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>"Against me!" he muttered. "Why me particularly? There were two of us +charged. What about Cotherstone?"</p> + +<p>"I'm talking about the inquest" said Christopher. "They don't charge +anybody at inquests—they only inquire in general. The verdict's against +you, and you only. And—it was Cotherstone's evidence that did it!"</p> + +<p>"Cotherstone!" exclaimed Mallalieu. "Evidence against me! He's a liar +if——"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you—all in due order," interrupted Chris. "Be calm, Mr. +Mallalieu, and listen—be judicial."</p> + +<p>But in spite of this exhortation, Mallalieu fumed and fretted, and when +Christopher had told him everything he looked as if it only required a +little resolution on his part to force himself to action.</p> + +<p>"I've a good mind to go straight out o' this place and straight down to +the police!" he growled. "I have indeed!—a great mind to go and give +myself up, and have things proved."</p> + +<p>"Do!" said Christopher, heartily. "I wish you would, sir. It 'ud save me +and my poor aunt a world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> of trouble. Only—it's my duty as a duly +qualified solicitor of the High Court to inform you that every step you +take from this haven of refuge will be a step towards the—gallows!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu shrank back in his chair and stared at Mr. Pett's sharp +features. His own blanched once more.</p> + +<p>"You're sure of that?" he demanded hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Certain!" replied Christopher. "No doubt of it, sir. I know!"</p> + +<p>"What's to be done, then?" asked the captive.</p> + +<p>Christopher assumed his best consultation-and-advice manner.</p> + +<p>"What," he said at last, "in my opinion, is the best thing is to wait +and see what happens when Cotherstone's brought up before the bench next +Tuesday. You're safe enough until then—so long as you do what we tell +you. Although all the country is being watched and searched, there's not +the ghost of a notion that you're in Highmarket. So remain as content as +you can, Mr. Mallalieu, and as soon as we learn what takes place next +Tuesday, we'll see about that plan of ours."</p> + +<p>"Let's be knowing what it is," grumbled Mallalieu.</p> + +<p>"Not quite matured, sir, yet," said Christopher as he rose and picked up +the silk hat and the kid gloves. "But when it is, you'll say—ah, you'll +say it's a most excellent one!"</p> + +<p>So Mallalieu had to wait until the next Tuesday came round. He did the +waiting impatiently and restlessly. He ate, he drank, he slept—slept as +he had never slept in his life—but he knew that he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> losing flesh +from anxiety. It was with real concern that he glanced at Christopher +when that worthy returned from the adjourned case on the Tuesday +afternoon. His face fell when he saw that Christopher was gloomier than +ever.</p> + +<p>"Worse and worse, Mr. Mallalieu!" whispered Christopher mysteriously +when he had shut the door. "Everything's against you, sir. It's all +centring and fastening on you. What do you think happened? Cotherstone's +discharged!"</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Mallalieu, jumping in his chair. "Discharged! Why, +then, they'd have discharged me!"</p> + +<p>Christopher laid his finger on the side of his nose.</p> + +<p>"Would they?" he said with a knowing wink. "Not much they wouldn't. +Cotherstone's let loose—to give evidence against you. When you're +caught!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu's small eyes began to bulge, and a dull red to show on his +cheek. He looked as if he were bursting with words which he could not +get out, and Christopher Pett hastened to improve the occasion.</p> + +<p>"It's my opinion it's all a plant!" he said. "A conspiracy, if you like, +between Cotherstone and the authorities. Cotherstone, he's got the +smartest solicitor in Norcaster and the shrewdest advocate on this +circuit—you know 'em, Mr. Mallalieu—Stilby's the solicitor, and +Gradston the barrister—and it strikes me it's a put-up job. D'ye see +through it? First of all, Cotherstone gives evidence at that inquest: on +his evidence a verdict of murder is returned against—you! Now +Cotherstone's discharged by the magistrates—no further evidence being +offered against him. Why?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> So that he can give evidence before the +magistrates and at the Assizes against—you! That is—when you're +caught."</p> + +<p>"They've got to catch me yet," growled Mallalieu. "Now then—what about +this plan of yours? For I'm going to wait no longer. Either you tell me +what you're going to do for me, or I shall walk out o' that door as soon +as it's dark tonight and take my chances. D'ye hear that?"</p> + +<p>Christopher rose, opened the door, and softly called Miss Pett. And Miss +Pett came, took a seat, folded her thin arms, and looked attentively at +her learned nephew.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Christopher, resuming the conversation, "I hear +that—and we are now ready to explain plans and discuss terms. You will, +of course, recompense us, Mr. Mallalieu?"</p> + +<p>"I've said all along that you'd not lose by me," retorted Mallalieu. +"Aught in reason, I'll pay. But—this plan o' yours? I'm going to know +what it is before we come to any question of paying. So out with it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's an excellent plan," responded Christopher. "You say that +you'll be safe if you're set down in a certain part of Norcaster—near +the docks. Now that will suit our plans exactly. You're aware, of +course, Mr. Mallalieu, that my aunt here is about to remove her goods +and chattels—bequeathed by Mr. Kitely, deceased—from this house? Very +well—the removal's to take place tomorrow. I have already arranged with +Mr. Strawson, furniture remover, to send up a couple of vans tomorrow +morning, very early.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> Into those vans the furniture will be placed, and +the vans will convey it to Norcaster, whence they will be transshipped +bodily to London, by sea. Mr. Mallalieu—you'll leave here, sir, in one +of those vans!"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu listened, considered, began to see possibilities.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" he said, with a cunning glance. "Aye!—that's not a bad notion. I +can see my way in that respect. But—how am I going to get into a van +here, and got out of it there, without the vanmen knowing?"</p> + +<p>"I've thought it all out," answered Christopher. "You must keep snug in +this room until afternoon. We'll get the first van off in the +morning—say by noon. I'll so contrive that the second van won't be +ready to start until after it's dusk. When it is ready the men'll go +down to fetch their horses—I'll give 'em something to get themselves a +drink before they come back—that'll delay 'em a bit longer. And while +they're away, we'll slip you into the van—and I shall go with that van +to Norcaster. And when we get to the shed at Norcaster where the vans +are to be left, the two men will go away with their horses—and I shall +let you out. It's a good plan, Mr. Mallalieu."</p> + +<p>"It'll do, anyhow," agreed Mallalieu, who felt heartily relieved. "We'll +try it. But you must take all possible care until I'm in, and we're off. +The least bit of a slip——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Pett drily remarked that if any slips occurred they would not be of +his making—after which both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> he and his aunt coughed several times and +looked at the guest-prisoner in a fashion which seemed to invite speech +from him.</p> + +<p>"All right then," said Mallalieu. "Tomorrow, you say? All right—all +right!"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett coughed again and began to make pleats in her apron.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Christopher," she said, addressing her nephew as if there +were no other person present, "of course, Mr. Mallalieu has not yet +stated his terms."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—ah!—just so!" replied Christopher, starting as from a pensive +reverie. "Ah, to be sure. Now, what would you say, Mr. Mallalieu? How do +you feel disposed, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mallalieu looked fixedly from aunt to nephew, from nephew to aunt. Then +his face became hard and rigid.</p> + +<p>"Fifty pound apiece!" he said. "That's how I'm disposed. And you don't +get an offer like that every day, I know. Fifty pound apiece!"</p> + +<p>Miss Pett inclined her turbaned head towards her right shoulder and +sighed heavily: Mr. Pett folded his hands, looked at the ceiling, and +whistled.</p> + +<p>"We don't get an offer like that every day!" he murmured. "No!—I should +think we didn't! Fifty pound apiece!—a hundred pound altogether—for +saving a fellow-creature from the gallows! Oh, Mr. Mallalieu!"</p> + +<p>"Hang it!—how much money d'ye think I'm likely to carry on me?—me!—in +my unfortunate position!" snarled Mallalieu. "D'ye think——"</p> + +<p>"Christopher," observed Miss Pett, rising and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> making for the door, "I +should suggest that Mr. Mallalieu is left to consider matters. Perhaps +when he's reflected a bit——"</p> + +<p>She and her nephew went out, leaving Mallalieu fuming and grumbling. And +once in the living-room she turned to Christopher with a shake of the +head.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?" she said. "Mean as a miser! My plan's much the +best. We'll help ourselves—and then we can snap our fingers at him. +I'll give him an extra strong nightcap tonight, and then...."</p> + +<p>But before the close of that evening came Mallalieu's notions underwent +a change. He spent the afternoon in thinking. He knew that he was in the +power of two people who, if they could, would skin him. And the more he +thought, the more he began to be suspicious—and suddenly he wondered +why he slept so heavily at night, and all of a sudden he saw the reason. +Drugged!—that old she-devil was drugging his drink. That was it, of +course—but it had been for the last time: she shouldn't do it again.</p> + +<p>That night when Miss Pett brought the hot toddy, mixed according to the +recipe of the late Kitely, Mallalieu took it at his door, saying he was +arrayed for sleep, and would drink it when in bed. After which he +carefully poured it into a flower-pot that graced his room, and when he +presently lay down it was with eyes and ears open and his revolver ready to his right hand.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>MR. WRAYTHWAITE OF WRAYE</h3> + +<p>Had the Mayor of Highmarket, lying there sullen and suspicious, only +known what was taking place close to him at that very moment, only known +what had been happening in his immediate vicinity during the afternoon +and evening, he might have taken some course of action which would have +prevented what was shortly to come. But he knew nothing—except that he +was angry, and full of doubts, and cursed everything and everybody that +had led to this evil turn in his fortunes, and was especially full of +vindictiveness towards the man and woman in the next room, who, as he +felt sure, were trying to take advantage of his present helplessness. +And meanwhile, not far away, things were going on—and they had been +going on all that day since noon.</p> + +<p>Brereton, going away from Highmarket Town Hall after the dramatic +discharge of Cotherstone, was suddenly accosted by a smart-looking young +man whom, at first glance, he knew to be in some way connected with the +law.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gifford Brereton?" inquired this stranger. "I have a note for you, sir."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>Brereton took the note and stepped aside into a quiet corner: the young +man followed and stood near. To Brereton's surprise he found himself +looking at a letter in the handwriting of a London solicitor who had two +or three times favoured him with a brief. He hastily glanced through its +contents:—</p> + +<blockquote><p class="right"><span class="smcap">"The Duke's Head Hotel</span>" <br /> +<i>Norcaster.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Brereton</span>,—</p> + +<p>"I have just arrived at this place on business which is closely +connected with that which you have in hand. I shall be much obliged +if you join me here at once, bringing with you the daughter of your +client Harborough—it is important that she should accompany you. +The bearer will have a car in readiness for you.</p> + +<p class="right">Yours sincerely, <br /> +"H. C. <span class="smcap">Carfax</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Brereton put the note in his pocket and turned to the messenger.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carfax wishes me to return with you to Norcaster," he remarked. "He +mentions a car."</p> + +<p>"Here, Mr. Brereton—round the corner—a good one, that will run us +there in twenty minutes," replied the messenger.</p> + +<p>"There's a call to make first," said Brereton. He went round the corner +with his companion and recognized in the chauffeur who waited there a +man who had once or twice driven him from Norcaster of late. "Ah!" he +said, "I daresay you know where Mrs. Northrop lives in this town—up +near the foot of the Shawl? You do?—run us up there, then. Are you one +of Mr. Carfax's clerks?" he asked when he and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> the messenger had got +into the car. "Have you come down with him from London?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir—I am a clerk at Willerby & Hargreaves' in Norcaster," replied +the messenger. "Carfax and Spillington are our London agents. Mr. Carfax +and some other gentlemen came down from town first thing this morning, +and Mr. Carfax got me to bring you that note."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what he wants to see me about?" asked Brereton, who was +already curious to the point of eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I have a pretty good idea," answered the clerk, with a +smile, "but I think Mr. Carfax would rather tell you everything himself. +We shall soon be there, Mr. Brereton—if the young lady doesn't keep +us."</p> + +<p>Brereton ran into Northrop's house and carried Avice off with scant +ceremony.</p> + +<p>"This, of course, has something to do with your father's case," he said, +as he led her down to the car. "It may be—but no, we won't anticipate! +Only—I'm certain things are going to right themselves. Now then!" he +called to the driver as they joined the clerk. "Get along to Norcaster +as fast as you can."</p> + +<p>Within half an hour the car stopped at the old-fashioned gateway of the +Duke's Head in Norcaster market-place, and the clerk immediately led his +two companions into the hotel and upstairs to a private sitting-room, at +the door of which he knocked. A voice bade him enter; he threw the door +open and announced the visitors.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>"Miss Harborough—Mr. Brereton, Mr. Carfax," he said.</p> + +<p>Brereton glanced sharply at the men who stood in the room, evidently +expectant of his and his companion's arrival. Carfax, a short, +middle-aged man, quick and bustling in manner, he, of course, knew: the +others were strangers. Two of them Brereton instantly set down as +detectives; there were all the marks and signs of the craft upon them. +They stood in a window, whispering together, and at them Brereton gave +but a glance. But at the fourth man, who stood on the hearthrug, he +looked long and hard. And his thoughts immediately turned to the night +on which he and Avice had visited the old woman who lived in the lonely +house on the moors and to what she had said about a tall man who had met +Harborough in her presence—a tall, bearded man. For the man who stood +there before him, looking at Avice with an interested, somewhat wistful +smile, was a tall, bearded man—a man past middle age, who looked as if +he had seen a good deal of the far-off places of the world.</p> + +<p>Carfax had hurried forward, shaken hands with Brereton, and turned to +Avice while Brereton was making this rapid inspection.</p> + +<p>"So here you are, Brereton—and this young lady, I suppose, is Miss +Harborough?" he said, drawing a chair forward. "Glad you've come—and I +daresay you're wondering why you've been sent for? Well—all in good +time, but first—this gentleman is Mr. John Wraythwaite."</p> + +<p>The big man started forward, shook hands hastily with Brereton, and +turned more leisurely to Avice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>"My dear young lady!" he said. "I—I—the fact is, I'm an old friend of +your father's, and—and it will be very soon now that he's all +right—and all that sort of thing, you know! You don't know me, of +course."</p> + +<p>Avice looked up at the big, bearded figure and from it to Brereton.</p> + +<p>"No!" she said. "But—I think it was you who sent that money to Mr. +Brereton."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you're anticipating, young lady!" exclaimed Carfax. "Yes—we've a +lot of talking to do. And we'd better all sit down and do it +comfortably. One moment," he continued, and turned away to the two men +in the window, who, after a few words with him, left the room. "Now +then—we'll do our first part of the business, Brereton!" he went on, as +they all took seats at a table near the fire. "You, of course, don't +know who this gentleman is?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," replied Brereton.</p> + +<p>"Very good!" continued Carfax, rubbing his hands as if in enjoyment of +the situation. "Then you've some interesting facts to hear about him. To +begin with, he's the man who, when your client, this young lady's +father, is brought up at these coming Assizes, will prove a complete +<i>alibi</i> on his behalf. In other words, he's the man with whom Harborough +was in company during the evening and the greater part of the night on +which Kitely was murdered."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said Brereton. He looked reflectively at Mr. +Wraythwaite. "But why did you not come forward at once?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My advice—my advice!" exclaimed Carfax has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>tily. "I'm going to explain +the reasons. Now, you won't understand, Brereton, but Miss Harborough, I +think, will know what I mean, or she'll have some idea, when I say that +this gentleman is now—now, mind you!—Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye."</p> + +<p>Avice looked up quickly with evident comprehension, and the solicitor +nodded.</p> + +<p>"You see—she knows," he went on, turning to Brereton. "At least, that +conveys something to her. But it doesn't to you. Well, my dear sir, if +you were a native of these parts it would. Wraye is one of the oldest +and most historic estates between here and the Tweed—everybody knows +Wraye. And everybody knows too that there has been quite a romance about +Wraye for some time—since the last Wraythwaite died, in fact. That +Wraythwaite was a confirmed old bachelor. He lived to a great age—he +outlived all his brothers and sisters, of whom he'd had several. He left +quite a tribe of nephews and nieces, who were distributed all over the +world. Needless to say, there was vast bother and trouble. Finally, one +of the nephews made a strong claim to the estate, as being the eldest +known heir. And he was until recently in good trim for establishing his +claim, when my client here arrived on the scene. For he is the eldest +nephew—he is the rightful heir—and I am thankful to say that—only +within this last day or two—his claim has been definitely recognized +and established, and all without litigation. Everything," continued +Carfax, again rubbing his hands with great satisfaction, "everything is +now all right, and Mr. Wrayth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>waite of Wraye will take his proper and +rightful place amongst his own people."</p> + +<p>"I'm exceedingly glad to hear it," said Brereton, with a smile at the +big man, who continued to watch Avice as if his thoughts were with her +rather than with his solicitor's story. "But—you'll understand that I'd +like to know how all this affects my client?"</p> + +<p>"Ye—yes!" said Mr. Wraythwaite, hastily. "Tell Mr. Brereton, +Carfax—never mind me and my affairs—get on to poor Harborough."</p> + +<p>"Your affair and Harborough's are inextricably mixed, my dear sir," +retorted Carfax, good-humouredly. "I'm coming to the mingling of them. +Well," he continued, addressing himself again to Brereton. "This is how +things are—or were. I must tell you that the eldest brother of the late +Squire of Wraye married John Harborough's aunt—secretly. They had not +been married long before the husband emigrated. He went off to +Australia, leaving his wife behind until he had established +himself—there had been differences between him and his family, and he +was straitened in means. In his absence our friend here was born—and at +the same time, sad to say, his mother died. The child was brought up by +Harborough's mother—Mr. Wraythwaite and Harborough are foster-brothers. +It remained in the care of Harborough's mother—who kept the secret of +the marriage—until it was seven years old. Then, opportunity occurring, +it was taken to its father in Australia. The father, Matthew +Wraythwaite, made a big fortune in Australia, sheep-farming. He never +married again, and the fortune, of course, came at his death to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> his +only son—our friend. Now, he had been told of the secret marriage of +his father, but, being possessed of an ample fortune himself, he +concerned himself little about the rest of the old family. However, a +year or so ago, happening to read in the newspapers about the death of +the old Squire, his uncle, and the difficulty of definitely deciding the +real heirship, he came over to England. But he had no papers relating to +his father's marriage, and he did not know where it had taken place. At +that time he had not consulted me—in fact, he had consulted no one. If +he had consulted me," continued Carfax, with a knowing wink at Brereton, +"we should have put him right in a few hours. But he kept off +lawyers—and he sought out the only man he could remember—his +foster-brother, Harborough. And by Harborough's advice, they met +secretly. Harborough did not know where that marriage had taken +place—he had to make inquiries all over this district—he had to search +registers. Now and then, my client—not my client then, of course—came +to see Harborough; when he did so, he and Harborough met in quiet +places. And on the night on which that man Kitely was murdered," +concluded the solicitor, "Harborough was with my client from nine +o'clock until half-past four in the morning, when he parted with him +near Hexendale railway station. Mr. Wraythwaite will swear that."</p> + +<p>"And fortunately, we have some corroboration," observed Brereton, with a +glance at Avice, "for whether Mr. Wraythwaite knows it or not, his +meeting with Harborough on the moors that particular night was witnessed."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>"Capital—capital!" exclaimed Carfax. "By a credible—and +creditable—witness?"</p> + +<p>"An old woman of exceptional character," answered Brereton, "except that +she indulges herself in a little night-poaching now and then."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, we needn't tell that when she goes into the witness-box," +said Carfax. "But that's most satisfactory. My dear young lady!" he +added, turning to Avice, "your father will be released like—like one +o'clock! And then, I think," he went on bustling round on the new Squire +of Wraye, "then, my dear, I think Mr. Wraythwaite here——"</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me, Carfax," interrupted Mr. Wraythwaite, with a nod at +Avice. "I'll tell this young lady all about that myself. In the +meantime——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, just so!" responded Carfax. "In the meantime, we have something not +so interesting or pleasing, but extremely important, to tell Mr. +Brereton. Brereton—how are things going? Has any fresh light been +thrown on the Kitely murder? Nothing really certain and definite you +say? Very well, my dear sir—then you will allow me to throw some light +on it!"</p> + +<p>So saying, Carfax rose from his chair, quitted the room—and within +another minute returned, solemnly escorting the two detectives.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>PAGES FROM THE PAST</h3> + +<p>Before the solicitor and his companions could seat themselves at the +table whereat the former's preliminary explanation had been made, Mr. +Wraythwaite got up and motioned Avice to follow his example.</p> + +<p>"Carfax," he said, "there's no need for me to listen to all that you've +got to tell Mr. Brereton—I know it already. And I don't think it will +particularly interest Miss Harborough at the moment—she'll hear plenty +about it later on. She and I will leave you—make your explanations and +your arrangements, and we'll join you later on."</p> + +<p>He led the way to the door, beckoning Avice to accompany him. But Avice +paused and turned to Brereton.</p> + +<p>"You feel sure that it is all right now about my father?" she said. "You +feel certain? If you do——"</p> + +<p>"Yes—absolutely," answered Brereton, who knew what her question meant. +"And—we will let him know."</p> + +<p>"He knows!" exclaimed Carfax. "That is, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> knows that Mr. Wraythwaite +is here, and that everything's all right. Run away, my dear young lady, +and be quite happy—Mr. Wraythwaite will tell you everything you want to +know. And now, my dear sir," he continued, as he shut the door on +Wraythwaite and Avice and bustled back to the table, "there are things +that you want to know, and that you are going to know—from me and from +these two gentlemen. Mr. Stobb—Mr. Leykin. Both ex-Scotland Yard men, +and now in business for themselves as private inquiry agents. Smart +fellows—though I say it to their faces."</p> + +<p>"I gather from that that you have been doing some private inquiry work, +then?" said Brereton. "In connexion with what, now?"</p> + +<p>"Let us proceed in order," answered Carfax, taking a seat at the head of +the table and putting his fingers together in a judicial attitude. "I +will open the case. When Wraythwaite—a fine fellow, who, between +ourselves, is going to do great things for Harborough and his +daughter—when Wraythwaite, I say, heard of what had happened down here, +he was naturally much upset. His first instinct was to rush to +Highmarket at once and tell everything. However, instead of doing that, +he very wisely came to me. Having heard all that he had to tell, I +advised him, as it was absolutely certain that no harm could come to +Harborough in the end, to let matters rest for the time being, until we +had put the finishing touches to his own affair. He, however, insisted +on sending you that money—which was done: nothing else would satisfy +him. But now arose a deeply interesting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> phase of the whole +affair—which has been up to now kept secret between Wraythwaite, +myself, and Messrs. Stobb and Leykin there. To it I now invite your +attention."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carfax here pulled out a memorandum book from his pocket, and having +fitted on his spectacles glanced at a page or two within it.</p> + +<p>"Now," he presently continued, "Wraythwaite being naturally deeply +interested in the Kitely case, he procured the local +newspapers—Norcaster and Highmarket papers, you know—so that he could +read all about it. There was in those papers a full report of the first +proceedings before the magistrates, and Wraythwaite was much struck by +your examination of the woman Miss Pett. In fact, he was so much struck +by your questions and her replies that he brought the papers to me, and +we read them together. And, although we knew well enough that we should +eventually have no difficulty whatever in proving an <i>alibi</i> in +Harborough's behalf, we decided that in his interest we would make a few +guarded but strict inquiries into Miss Pett's antecedents."</p> + +<p>Brereton started. Miss Pett! Ah!—he had had ideas respecting Miss Pett +at the beginning of things, but other matters had cropped up, and +affairs had moved and developed so rapidly that he had almost forgotten +her.</p> + +<p>"That makes you think," continued Carfax, with a smile. "Just so!—and +what took place at that magistrates' sitting made Wraythwaite and myself +think. And, as I say, we employed Stobb and Leykin, men of great +experience, to—just find out a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> about Miss Pett. Of course, Miss +Pett herself had given us something to go on. She had told you some +particulars of her career. She had been housekeeper to a Major Stilman, +at Kandahar Cottage, Woking. She had occupied posts at two London +hotels. So—Stobb went to Woking, and Leykin devoted himself to the +London part of the business.</p> + +<p>"And I think, Stobb," concluded the solicitor, turning to one of the +inquiry agents, "I think you'd better tell Mr. Brereton what you found +out at Woking, and then Leykin can tell us what he brought to light +elsewhere."</p> + +<p>Stobb, a big, cheery-faced man, who looked like a highly respectable +publican, turned to Brereton with a smile.</p> + +<p>"It was a very easy job, sir," he said. "I found out all about the lady +and her connexion with Woking in a very few hours. There are plenty of +folk at Woking who remember Miss Pett—she gave you the mere facts of +her residence there correctly enough. But—naturally—she didn't tell +you more than the mere facts, the surface, as it were. Now, I got at +everything. Miss Pett was housekeeper at Woking to a Major Stilman, a +retired officer of an infantry regiment. All the time she was with +him—some considerable period—he was more or less of an invalid, and he +was well known to suffer terribly from some form of neuralgia. He got +drugs to alleviate the pain of that neuralgia from every chemist in the +place, one time or another. And one day, Major Stilman was found dead in +bed, with some of these drugs by his bedside. Of course an inquest was +held, and, equally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> of course, the evidence of doctors and chemists +being what it was, a verdict of death from misadventure—overdose of the +stuff, you know—was returned. Against Miss Pett there appears to have +been no suspicion in Woking at that time—and for the matter of that," +concluded Mr. Stobb drily, "I don't know that there is now."</p> + +<p>"You have some yourself?" suggested Brereton.</p> + +<p>"I went into things further," answered Mr. Stobb, with the ghost of a +wink. "I found out how things were left—by Stilman. Stilman had nothing +but his pension, and a capital sum of about two thousand pounds. He left +that two thousand, and the furniture of his house, to Miss Pett. The +will had been executed about a twelvemonth before Stilman died. It was +proved as quickly as could be after his death, and of course Miss Pett +got her legacy. She sold the furniture—and left the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"What is your theory?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stobb nodded across the table at Carfax.</p> + +<p>"Not my business to say what my theories are, Mr. Brereton," he +answered. "All I had to do was to find out facts, and report them to Mr. +Carfax and Mr. Wraythwaite."</p> + +<p>"All the same," said Brereton quietly, "you think it quite possible that +Miss Pett, knowing that Stilman took these strong doses, and having a +pecuniary motive, gave him a still stronger one? Come, now!"</p> + +<p>Stobb smiled, rubbed his chin and looked at Carfax. And Carfax pointed +to Stobb's partner, a very quiet, observant man who had listened with a +sly expression on his face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>"Your turn, Leykin," he said. "Tell the result of your inquiries."</p> + +<p>Leykin was one of those men who possess soft voices and slow speech. +Invited to play his part, he looked at Brereton as if he were half +apologizing for anything he had to say.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "of course, sir, what Miss Pett told you about her +posts at two London hotels was quite right. She had been storekeeper at +one, and linen-keeper at another—before she went to Major Stilman. +There was nothing against her at either of those places. But of course I +wanted to know more about her than that. Now she said in answer to you +that before she went to the first of those hotels she had lived at home +with her father, a Sussex farmer. So she had—but it was a long time +before. She had spent ten years in India between leaving home and going +to the Royal Belvedere. She went out to India as a nurse in an officer's +family. And while she was in India she was charged with strangling a +fellow-servant—a Eurasian girl who had excited her jealousy."</p> + +<p>Brereton started again at that, and he turned a sharp glance on Carfax, +who nodded emphatically and signed to Leykin to proceed.</p> + +<p>"I have the report of that affair in my pocket," continued Leykin, more +softly and slowly than ever. "It's worth reading, Mr. Brereton, and +perhaps you'll amuse yourself with it sometime. But I can give you the +gist of it in a few words. Pett was evidently in love with her master's +orderly. He wasn't in love with her. She became madly jealous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> of this +Eurasian girl, who was under-nurse. The Eurasian girl was found near the +house one night with a cord tightly twisted round her neck—dead, of +course. There were no other signs of violence, but some gold ornaments +which the girl wore had disappeared. Pett was tried—and she was +discharged, for she set up an <i>alibi</i>—of a sort that wouldn't have +satisfied me," remarked Leykin in an aside. "But there was a queer bit +of evidence given which you may think of use now. One of the witnesses +said that Pett had been much interested in reading some book about the +methods of the Thugs, and had talked in the servants' quarters of how +they strangled their victims with shawls of the finest silk. Now this +Eurasian girl had been strangled with a silk handkerchief—and if that +handkerchief could only have been traced to Pett, she'd have been found +guilty. But, as I said, she was found not guilty—and she left her place +at once and evidently returned to England. That's all, sir."</p> + +<p>"Stobb has a matter that might be mentioned," said Carfax, glancing at +the other inquiry agent.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's not much, Mr. Brereton," said Stobb. "It's merely that we've +ascertained that Kitely had left all he had to this woman, and that——"</p> + +<p>"I know that," interrupted Brereton. "She made no concealment of it. Or, +rather, her nephew, acting for her, didn't."</p> + +<p>"Just so," remarked Stobb drily. "But did you know that the nephew had +already proved the will, and sold the property? No?—well, he has! Not +much time lost, you see, after the old man's death, sir.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> In fact, it's +been done about as quickly as it well could be done. And of course Miss +Pett will have received her legacy—which means that by this time she'll +have got all that Kitely had to leave."</p> + +<p>Brereton turned to the solicitor, who, during the recital of facts by +the two inquiry agents, had maintained his judicial attitude, as if he +were on the bench and listening to the opening statements of counsel.</p> + +<p>"Are you suggesting, all of you that you think Miss Pett murdered +Kitely?" he asked. "I should like a direct answer to that question."</p> + +<p>"My dear sir!" exclaimed Carfax. "What does it look like? You've heard +the woman's record! The probability is that she did murder that +Eurasian, girl—that she took advantage of Stilman's use of drugs to +finish him off. She certainly benefited by Stilman's death—and she's +without doubt benefited by Kitely's. I repeat—what does it look like?"</p> + +<p>"What do you propose to do?" asked Brereton.</p> + +<p>The inquiry agents glanced at each other and then at Carfax. And Carfax +slowly took off his spectacles with a flourish, and looked more judicial +than ever as he answered the young barrister's question.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you what I propose to do," he replied. "I propose to take +these two men over to Highmarket this evening and to let them tell the +Highmarket police all they have just told you!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>WITHOUT THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCE</h3> + +<p>Everything was very quiet in the house where Mallalieu lay wide-awake +and watchful. It seemed to him that he had never known it so quiet +before. It was quiet at all times, both day and night, for Miss Pett had +a habit of going about like a cat, and Christopher was decidedly of the +soft-footed order, and stepped from one room to another as if he were +perpetually afraid of waking somebody or trusting his own weight on his +own toes. But on this particular night the silence seemed to be +unusual—and it was all the deeper because no sound, not even the faint +sighing of the wind in the firs and pines outside came to break it. And +Mallalieu's nerves, which had gradually become sharpened and irritated +by his recent adventures and his close confinement, became still more +irritable, still more set on edge, and it was with difficulty that he +forced himself to lie still and to listen. Moreover, he was feeling the +want of the stuff which had soothed him into such sound slumber every +night since he had been taken in charge by Miss Pett, and he knew very +well that though he had flung it away his whole system was crying out +for the lack of it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>What were those two devils after, he wondered as he lay there in the +darkness? No good—that was certain. Now that he came to reflect upon it +their conduct during the afternoon and evening had not been of a +reassuring sort. Christopher had kept entirely away from him; he had not +seen Christopher at all since the discussion of the afternoon, which +Miss Pett had terminated so abruptly. He had seen Miss Pett twice or +thrice—Miss Pett's attitude on each occasion had been that of injured +innocence. She had brought him his tea in silence, his supper with no +more than a word. It was a nice supper—she set it before him with an +expression which seemed to say that however badly she herself was +treated, she would do her duty by others. And Mallalieu, seeing that +expression, had not been able to refrain from one of his sneering +remarks.</p> + +<p>"Think yourself very badly done to, don't you, missis!" he had exclaimed +with a laugh. "Think I'm a mean 'un, what?"</p> + +<p>"I express no opinion, Mr. Mallalieu," replied Miss Pett, frigidly and +patiently. "I think it better for people to reflect. A night's +reflection," she continued as she made for the door, "oft brings wisdom, +even to them as doesn't usually cultivate it."</p> + +<p>Mallalieu had no objection to the cultivation of wisdom—for his own +benefit, and he was striving to produce something from the process as he +lay there, waiting. But he said to himself that it was easy enough to be +wise after the event—and for him the event had happened. He was in the +power of these two, whom he had long since recognized as an +un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>scrupulous woman and a shifty man. They had nothing to do but hand +him over to the police if they liked: for anything he knew, Chris Pett +might already have played false and told the police of affairs at the +cottage. And yet on deeper reflection, he did not think that +possible—for it was evident that aunt and nephew were after all they +could get, and they would get nothing from the police authorities, while +they might get a good deal from him. But—what did they expect to get +from him? He had been a little perplexed by their attitude when he asked +them if they expected him to carry a lot of money on him—a fugitive. +Was it possible—the thought came to him like a thunderclap in the +darkness—that they knew, or had some idea, of what he really had on +him? That Miss Pett had drugged him every night he now felt sure—well, +then, in that case how did he know that she hadn't entered his room and +searched his belongings, and especially the precious waistcoat?</p> + +<p>Mallalieu had deposited that waistcoat in the same place every night—on +a chair which stood at the head of his bed. He had laid it folded on the +chair, had deposited his other garments in layers upon it, had set his +candlestick and a box of matches on top of all. And everything had +always been there, just as he had placed things, every morning when he +opened his eyes. But—he had come to know Miss Pett's stealthiness by +that time, and ...</p> + +<p>He put out a hand now and fingered the pile of garments which lay, +neatly folded, within a few inches of his head. It was all right, then, +of course, and his hand drew back—to the revolver, separated from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> his +cheek by no more than the thickness of the pillow. The touch of that +revolver made him begin speculating afresh. If Miss Pett or Christopher +had meddled with the waistcoat, the revolver, too, might have been +meddled with. Since he had entered the cottage, he had never examined +either waistcoat or revolver. Supposing the charges had been +drawn?—supposing he was defenceless, if a pinch came? He began to sweat +with fear at the mere thought, and in the darkness he fumbled with the +revolver in an effort to discover whether it was still loaded. And just +then came a sound—and Mallalieu grew chill with suspense.</p> + +<p>It was a very small sound—so small that it might have been no more than +that caused by the scratch of the tiniest mouse in the wainscot. But in +that intense silence it was easily heard—and with it came the faint +glimmering of a light. The light widened—there was a little further +sound—and Mallalieu, peeping at things through his eyelashes became +aware that the door was open, that a tall, spare figure was outlined +between the bed and the light without. And in that light, outside the +door, well behind the thin form of Miss Pett, he saw Christopher Pett's +sharp face and the glint of his beady eyes.</p> + +<p>Mallalieu was sharp enough of thought, and big man though he was, he had +always been quick of action. He knew what Miss Pett's objective was, and +he let her advance half-way across the room on her stealthy path to the +waistcoat. But silently as she came on with that cat-like tread, +Mallalieu had just as silently drawn the revolver from beneath his +pillow and turned its small muzzle on her. It had a highly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> polished +barrel, that revolver, and Miss Pett suddenly caught a tiny +scintillation of light on it—and she screamed. And as she screamed +Mallalieu fired, and the scream died down to a queer choking sound ... +and he fired again ... and where Christopher Pett's face had shown +itself a second before there was nothing—save another choking sound and +a fall in the entry where Christopher had stood and watched.</p> + +<p>After that followed a silence so deep that Mallalieu felt the drums of +his ears aching intensely in the effort to catch any sound, however +small. But he heard nothing—not even a sigh. It was as if all the awful +silences that had ever been in the cavernous places of the world had +been crystallized into one terrible silence and put into that room.</p> + +<p>He reached out at last and found his candle and the matches, and he got +more light and leaned forward in the bed, looking.</p> + +<p>"Can't ha' got 'em both!" he muttered. "Both? But——"</p> + +<p>He slowly lifted himself out of bed, huddled on some of the garments +that lay carefully folded on the chair, and then, holding the candle to +the floor, went forward to where the woman lay. She had collapsed +between the foot of the bed and the wall; her shoulders were propped +against the wall and the grotesque turban hung loosely down on one +shoulder. And Mallalieu knew in that quick glance that she was dead, and +he crept onward to the door and looked at the other still figure, lying +just as supinely in the passage that led to the living-room. He looked +longer at that ... and suddenly he turned back into his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +parlour-bedchamber, and carefully avoiding the dead woman put on his +boots and began to dress with feverish haste.</p> + +<p>And while he hurried on his clothes Mallalieu thought. He was not sure +that he had meant to kill these two. He would have delighted in killing +them certainly, hating them as he did, but he had an idea that when he +fired he only meant to frighten them. But that was neither here nor +there now. They were dead, but he was alive—and he must get out of +that, and at once. The moors—the hills—anywhere....</p> + +<p>A sudden heavy knocking at the door at the back of the cottage set +Mallalieu shaking. He started for the front—to hear knocking there, +too. Then came voices demanding admittance, and loudly crying the dead +woman's name. He crept to a front window at that, and carefully drew a +corner of the blind and looked out, and saw many men in the garden. One +of them had a lantern, and as its glare glanced about Mallalieu set eyes on Cotherstone.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>COTHERSTONE</h3> + +<p>Cotherstone walked out of the dock and the court and the Town Hall +amidst a dead silence—which was felt and noticed by everybody but +himself. At that moment he was too elated, too self-satisfied to notice +anything. He held his head very high as he went out by the crowded +doorway, and through the crowd which had gathered on the stairs; he +might have been some general returning to be publicly fêted as he +emerged upon the broad steps under the Town Hall portico and threw a +triumphant glance at the folk who had gathered there to hear the latest +news. And there, in the open air, and with all those staring eyes upon +him, he unconsciously indulged in a characteristic action. He had caused +his best clothes to be sent to him at Norcaster Gaol the previous night, +and he had appeared in them in the dock. The uppermost garment was an +expensive overcoat, finished off with a deep fur collar: now, as he +stood there on the top step, facing the crowd, he unbuttoned the coat, +threw its lapels aside, and took a long, deep breath, as if he were +inhaling the free air of liberty. There were one or two shrewd and +observant folk amongst the on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>lookers—it seemed to them that this +unconscious action typified that Cotherstone felt himself throwing off +the shackles which he had worn, metaphorically speaking, for the last +eight days.</p> + +<p>But in all that crowd, no one went near Cotherstone. There were many of +his fellow-members of the Corporation in it—councillors, aldermen—but +none of them approached him or even nodded to him; all they did was to +stare. The news of what had happened had quickly leaked out: it was +known before he came into view that Cotherstone had been discharged—his +appearance in that bold, self-assured fashion only led to covert +whispers and furtive looks. But suddenly, from somewhere in the crowd, a +sneering voice flung a contemptuous taunt across the staring faces.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Cotherstone!—saved your own neck, anyway!"</p> + +<p>There was a ripple of jeering laughter at that, and as Cotherstone +turned angrily in the direction from whence the voice came, another, +equally contemptuous, lifted itself from another corner of the crowd.</p> + +<p>"King's evidence! Yah!—who'd believe Cotherstone? Liar!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone's face flushed angrily—the flush died as quickly away and +gave place to a sickly pallor. And at that a man who had stood near him +beneath the portico, watching him inquisitively, stepped nearer and +whispered—</p> + +<p>"Go home, Mr. Cotherstone!—take my advice, and get quietly away, at +once!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone rejected this offer of good counsel with a sudden spasm of furious anger.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>"You be hanged!" he snarled. "Who's asking you for your tongue? D'ye +think I'm afraid of a pack like yon? Who's going to interfere with me, +I'd like to know? Go home yourself!"</p> + +<p>He turned towards the door from which he had just emerged—turned to see +his solicitor and his counsel coming out together. And his sudden anger +died down, and his face relaxed to a smile of triumph.</p> + +<p>"Now then!" he exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you how it would be, a week +since! Come on across to the Arms and I'll stand a bottle—aye, two, +three, if you like!—of the very best. Come on, both of you."</p> + +<p>The solicitor, glancing around, saw something of the state of affairs, +hurriedly excused himself, and slipped back into the Town Hall by +another entrance. But the barrister, a man who, great as his forensic +abilities were, was one of those people who have no private reputation +to lose, and of whom it was well known that he could never withstand the +temptation to a bottle of champagne, assented readily, and with great +good humour. And he and Cotherstone, arm in arm, walked down the steps +and across the Market Place—and behind them the crowd sneered and +laughed and indulged in audible remarks.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone paid, or affected to pay, no heed. He steered his companion +into the Arms, and turned into the great bow-windowed room which served +as morning meeting-place for all the better class of loungers and +townsmen in Highmarket. The room was full already. Men had come across +from the court, and from the crowd outside; a babel of talk arose from +every corner. But when Cotherstone and the well-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>known barrister (so +famous in that circuit for his advocacy of criminals that he had +acquired the nickname of the Felons' Friend) entered, a dead silence +fell, and men looked at this curious pair and then at each other with +significant glances.</p> + +<p>In that silence, Cotherstone, seizing a waiter, loudly demanded +champagne and cigars: he glared defiantly around him as he supplemented +the order with a command for the best box of cigars in the house, the +best champagne in the cellars. A loud laugh from some corner of the room +broke the silence, and the waiter, a shrewd fellow who saw how things +were, gave Cotherstone a look.</p> + +<p>"Come into the small parlour, Mr. Cotherstone," he whispered. "Nobody in +there—you'll be more comfortable, sir."</p> + +<p>"All right, then," responded Cotherstone. He glared once more at the +company around him, and his defiance suddenly broke out in another +fashion. "Any friend of mine that likes to join us," he said pointedly, +"is welcome. Who's coming, like?"</p> + +<p>There was another hoarse laugh at this, and most of the men there turned +their backs on Cotherstone and began to talk loudly. But one or two of +the less particular and baser sort, whom Cotherstone would certainly not +have called friends a week before, nudged each other and made towards +the door which the waiter held invitingly open—it was not every day +that the best champagne and the best cigars were to be had for nothing, +and if Cotherstone liked to fling his money about, what did it matter, +so long as they benefited by his folly?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>"That's the style!" said Cotherstone, pushing the barrister along. +"Bring two—bring three bottles," he cried to the waiter. "Big +'uns!—and the best."</p> + +<p>An elderly man, one of Cotherstone's fellow-members of the Corporation, +came forward and caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Cotherstone!" he whispered. "Don't be a fool! Think of what's only just +over. Go home, like a good fellow—go quietly home. You're doing no good +with this—you'll have all the town talking!"</p> + +<p>"Hang the town, and you too!" snapped Cotherstone. "You're one of them +that shouted at me in front of the Town Hall, curse you! I'll let you +and all Highmarket see what I care for you. What's it to you if I have a +quiet glass of wine with my friends?"</p> + +<p>But there was no quiet drinking of a glass of wine in the parlour to +which Cotherstone and his cronies retired. Whenever its door opened +Cotherstone's excited tones were heard in the big room, and the more +sober-minded of the men who listened began to shake their heads.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him?" asked one. "Nobody ever knew him like this +before! What's he carrying on in that fashion for?"</p> + +<p>"He's excited with getting off," said another. "And that bit of a scene +outside there threw him off his balance. He should ha' been taken +straight home. Nice lot he's got with him, too! We all know what yon +barrister chap is—he can drink champagne like water, they say, and for +the others—listen to that, now!" he added as a burst of excited talking +came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> through the opened door. "He'll be in a fine fit state to go home +to that daughter of his, I know, if that goes on."</p> + +<p>"It mustn't go on," said another, and got up. "I'll go across to Bent's +and get him to come over and take Cotherstone away. Bent's the only man +that'll have any influence with him."</p> + +<p>He went out and crossed the Market Place to Bent's office. But Bent was +not there. By his advice Lettie had gone to stay with some friends until +the recent proceedings were over in one way or another, and Bent +himself, as soon as Cotherstone had left the court, had hurried away to +catch a train to the town in which she was temporarily staying in order +to tell her the news and bring her home. So the would-be doer-of-good +went back disappointed—and as he reached the hotel, Cotherstone and the +barrister emerged from it, parted at the door with evident great +cordiality, and went their several ways. And Cotherstone, passing the +man who had been to Bent's, stared him in the face and cut him dead.</p> + +<p>"It's going to be war to the knife between Cotherstone and the town," +remarked the ambassador, when he re-entered the big room and joined his +own circle. "He passed me just now as if I were one of the paving-stones +he trod on! And did you see his face as he went out?—egad, instead of +looking as if he'd had too much to drink, he looked too sober to please +me. You mind if something doesn't happen—yon fellow's desperate!"</p> + +<p>"What should he be desperate about?" asked one of the group. "He's saved +his own neck!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>"It was that shouting at him when he came out that did it," observed +another man quietly. "He's the sort of man to resent aught like that. If +Cotherstone thinks public opinion's against him—well, we shall see!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone walked steadily away through the Market Place when he left +the barrister. Whatever the men in the big room might have thought, he +had not been indulging too freely in the little parlour. He had pressed +champagne on the group around him, but the amount he had taken himself +had not been great and it had pulled him together instead of +intoxicating him. And his excitement had suddenly died down, and he had +stopped what might have developed into a drinking bout by saying that he +must go home. And once outside, he made for his house, and as he went he +looked neither to right nor left, and if he met friend or acquaintance +his face became hard as flint.</p> + +<p>Cotherstone, indeed, was burning and seething with indignation. The +taunts flung at him as he stood on the Town Hall steps, the looks turned +in his direction as he walked away with the convivially inclined +barrister, the expression on the faces of the men in the big room at the +Highmarket Arms—all these things had stung him to the quick. He knew, +whatever else he might have been, or was, he had proved a faithful +servant to the town. He had been a zealous member of the Corporation, he +had taken hold of the financial affairs of the borough when they were in +a bad way and had put them in a safe and prosperous footing; he had +worked, thought, and planned for the benefit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> of the place—and this was +his reward! For he knew that those taunts, those looks, those +half-averted, half-sneering faces meant one thing, and one thing +only—the Highmarket men believed him equally guilty with Mallalieu, and +had come to the conclusion that he was only let off in order that direct +evidence against Mallalieu might be forthcoming. He cursed them deeply +and bitterly—and sneered at them in the same breath, knowing that even +as they were weathercocks, veering this way and that at the least breath +of public opinion, so they were also utter fools, wholly unable to see +or to conjecture.</p> + +<p>The excitement that had seized upon Cotherstone in face of that public +taunting of him died away in the silence of his own house—when Lettie +and Bent returned home in the course of the afternoon they found him +unusually cool and collected. Bent had come with uneasy feelings and +apprehensions; one of the men who had been at the Highmarket Arms had +chanced to be in the station when he and Lettie arrived, and had drawn +him aside and told him of what had occurred, and that Cotherstone was +evidently going on the drink. But there were no signs of anything +unusual about Cotherstone when Bent found him. He said little about the +events of the morning to either Bent or Lettie; he merely remarked that +things had turned out just as he had expected and that now perhaps they +would get matters settled; he had tea with them; he was busy with his +books and papers in his own room until supper-time; he showed no signs +of anything unusual at supper, and when an hour later he left the house, +saying that he must go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> down to the office and fetch the accumulated +correspondence, his manner was so ordinary that Bent saw no reason why +he should accompany him.</p> + +<p>But Cotherstone had no intention of going to his office. He left his +house with a fixed determination. He would know once and for all what +Highmarket felt towards and about him. He was not the man to live under +suspicion and averted looks, and if he was to be treated as a suspect +and a pariah he would know at once.</p> + +<p>There was at that time in Highmarket a small and select club, having its +house in the Market Place, to which all the principal townsmen belonged. +Both Mallalieu and Cotherstone had been members since its foundation; +Cotherstone, indeed, was its treasurer. He knew that the club would be +crowded that night—very well, he would go there and boldly face public +opinion. If his fellow-members cut him, gave him the cold shoulder, +ignored him—all right, he would know what to do then.</p> + +<p>But Cotherstone never got inside the club. As he set his foot on the +threshold he met one of the oldest members—an alderman of the borough, +for whom he had a great respect. This man, at sight of him, started, +stopped, laid a friendly but firm hand on his arm, and deliberately +turned him round.</p> + +<p>"No, my lad!" he said kindly. "Not in there tonight! If you don't know +how to take care of yourself, let a friend take care of you. Have a bit +of sense, Cotherstone! Do you want to expose yourself again to what you +got outside the Town Hall this noon! No—no!—go away, my lad, go +home—come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> home with me, if you like—you're welcome!"</p> + +<p>The last word softened Cotherstone: he allowed himself to be led away +along the street.</p> + +<p>"I'm obliged to you," he said brusquely. "You mean well. But—do you +mean to say that those fellows in there—men that know me—are +thinking—that!"</p> + +<p>"It's a hard, censorious world, this," answered the elder man. "Leave +'em alone a bit—don't shove yourself on 'em. Come away—come home and +have a cigar with me."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Cotherstone. "You wouldn't ask me to do that if you +thought as they do. Thank you! But I've something to do—and I'll go and +do it at once."</p> + +<p>He pressed his companion's arm, and turned away—and the other man +watching him closely, saw him walk off to the police-station, to the +superintendent's private door. He saw him enter—and at that he shook +his head and went away himself, wondering what it was that Cotherstone +wanted with the police.</p> + +<p>The superintendent, tired by a long day's work, was taking his ease with +his pipe and his glass when Cotherstone was shown into his parlour. He +started with amazement at the sight of his visitor: Cotherstone motioned +him back to his chair.</p> + +<p>"Don't let me disturb you," said Cotherstone. "I want a word or two with +you in private—that's all."</p> + +<p>The superintendent had heard of the scene at the hotel, and had had his +fears about its sequel. But he was quick to see that his visitor was not +only sober,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> but remarkably cool and normal, and he hastened to offer +him a glass of whisky.</p> + +<p>"Aye, thank you, I will," replied Cotherstone, seating himself. "It'll +be the first spirits I've tasted since you locked me up, and I daresay +it'll do me no harm. Now then," he went on as the two settled themselves +by the hearth, "I want a bit of a straight talk with you. You know +me—we've been friends. I want you to tell me, straight, plain, +truthful—what are Highmarket folk thinking and saying about me? Come!"</p> + +<p>The superintendent's face clouded and he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what folks will be, Mr. Cotherstone!" he answered. "And +you know how very ready to say nasty things these Highmarket people are. +I'm not a Highmarket man myself, any more than you are, and I've always +regarded 'em as very bitter-tongued folk, and so——"</p> + +<p>"Out with it!" said Cotherstone. "Let's know the truth—never mind what +tongues it comes from. What are they saying?"</p> + +<p>"Well," replied the superintendent, reluctantly, "of course I get to +hear everything. If you must have it, the prevailing notion is that both +you and Mr. Mallalieu had a hand in Kitely's death. They think his +murder's at your doors, and that what happened to Stoner was a +by-chance. And if you want the whole truth, they think you're a deal +cleverer than Mallalieu, and that Kitely probably met his end at your +hands, with your partner's connivance. And there are those who say that +if Mallalieu's caught—as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> he will be—he'll split on you. That's all, +sir."</p> + +<p>"And what do you think?" demanded Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>The superintendent shifted uneasily in his chair.</p> + +<p>"I've never been able to bring myself to think that either you or +Mallalieu 'ud murder a man in cold blood, as Kitely was murdered," he +said. "As regards Stoner, I've firmly held to it that Mallalieu struck +him in a passion. But—I've always felt this—you, or Mallalieu, or both +of you, know more about the Kitely affair than you've ever told!"</p> + +<p>Cotherstone leaned forward and tapped his host on the arm.</p> + +<p>"I do!" he said significantly. "You're right in that. I—do!"</p> + +<p>The superintendent laid down his pipe and looked at his visitor gravely.</p> + +<p>"Then for goodness sake, Mr. Cotherstone," he exclaimed, "for goodness +sake, tell! For as sure as we're sitting here, as things are at present, +Mallalieu 'll hang if you don't! If he doesn't hang for Stoner, he will +for Kitely, for if he gets off over Stoner he'll be re-arrested on the +other charge."</p> + +<p>"Half an hour ago," remarked Cotherstone, "I shouldn't have minded if +Mallalieu had been hanged half a dozen times. Revenge is sweet—and I've +good reason for being revenged on Mallalieu. But now—I'm inclined to +tell the truth. Do you know why? Why—to show these Highmarket folks +that they're wrong!"</p> + +<p>The superintendent sighed. He was a plain, honest, simple man, and +Cotherstone's reason seemed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> strange—even a wicked one—to him. To +tell the truth merely to spite one's neighbour—a poor, poor reason, +when there was life at stake.</p> + +<p>"Aye, Mr. Cotherstone, but you ought to tell the truth in any case!" he +said. "If you know it, get it out and be done with it. We've had enough +trouble already. If you can clear things up——"</p> + +<p>"Listen!" interrupted Cotherstone. "I'll tell you all I know—privately. +If you think good, it can be put into proper form. Very well, then! You +remember the night of Kitely's murder?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, I should think so!" said the superintendent. "Good reason to!"</p> + +<p>"Let your mind go back to it, and to what you've since heard of it," +said Cotherstone. "You know that on that afternoon Kitely had threatened +me and Mallalieu with exposure about the Wilchester affair. He wanted to +blackmail us. I told Mallalieu, of course—we were both to think about +it till next day. But I did naught but think—I didn't want exposure for +my daughter's sake: I'd ha' given anything to avoid it, naturally. I had +young Bent and that friend of his, Brereton, to supper that night—I was +so full of thought that I went out and left 'em for an hour or more. The +truth was I wanted to get a word with Kitely. I went up the wood at the +side of my house towards Kitely's cottage—and all of a sudden I came +across a man lying on the ground—him!—just where we found him +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Dead?" asked the superintendent.</p> + +<p>"Only just," replied Cotherstone. "But he was dead—and I saw what had +caused his death, for I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> struck a match to look at him. I saw that empty +pocket-book lying by—I saw a scrap of folded newspaper, too, and I +picked it up and later, when I'd read it, I put it in a safe place—I've +taken it from that place tonight for the first time, and it's here—you +keep it. Well—I went on, up to the cottage. The door was open—I looked +in. Yon woman, Miss Pett, was at the table by the lamp, turning over +some papers—I saw Kitely's writing on some of 'em. I stepped softly in +and tapped her on the arm, and she screamed and started back. I looked +at her. 'Do you know that your master's lying dead, murdered, down +amongst those trees?' I said. Then she pulled herself together, and she +sort of got between me and the door. 'No, I don't!' she says. 'But if he +is, I'm not surprised, for I've warned him many a time about going out +after nightfall.' I looked hard at her. 'What're you doing with his +papers there?' I says. 'Papers!' she says. 'They're naught but old bills +and things that he gave me to sort.' 'That's a lie!' I says, 'those +aren't bills and I believe you know something about this, and I'm off +for the police—to tell!' Then she pushed the door to behind her and +folded her arms and looked at me. 'You tell a word,' she says, 'and I'll +tell it all over the town that you and your partner's a couple of +ex-convicts! I know your tale—Kitely'd no secrets from me. You stir a +step to tell anybody, and I'll begin by going straight to young +Bent—and I'll not stop at that, neither.' So you see where I was—I was +frightened to death of that old affair getting out, and I knew then that +Kitely was a liar and had told this old woman all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> about it, and—well, +I hesitated. And she saw that she had me, and she went on, 'You hold +your tongue, and I'll hold mine!' she says. 'Nobody'll accuse me, I +know—but if you speak one word, I'll denounce you! You and your partner +are much more likely to have killed Kitely than I am!' Well, I still +stood, hesitating. 'What's to be done?' I asked at last. 'Do naught,' +she said. 'Go home, like a wise man, and know naught about it. Let him +be found—and say naught. But if you do, you know what to expect.' 'Not +a word that I came in here, then?' I said at last. 'Nobody'll get no +words from me beyond what I choose to give 'em', she says. 'And—silence +about the other?' I said. 'Just as long as you're silent,' she says. And +with that I walked out—and I set off towards home by another way. And +just as I was leaving the wood to turn into the path that leads into our +lane I heard a man coming along and I shrank into some shrubs and +watched for him till he came close up. He passed me and went on to the +cottage—and I slipped back then and looked in through the window, and +there he was, and they were both whispering together at the table. And +it—was this woman's nephew—Pett, the lawyer."</p> + +<p>The superintendent, whose face had assumed various expressions during +this narrative, lifted his hands in amazement.</p> + +<p>"But—but we were in and about that cottage most of that +night—afterwards!" he exclaimed. "We never saw aught of him. I know he +was supposed to come down from London the <i>next</i> night, but——"</p> + +<p>"Tell you he was there <i>that</i> night!" insisted Coth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>erstone. "D'ye think +I could mistake him? Well, I went home—and you know what happened +afterwards: you know what she said and how she behaved when we went +up—and of course I played my part. But—that bit of newspaper I've +given you. I read it carefully that night, last thing. It's a column cut +out of a Woking newspaper of some years ago—it's to do with an inquest +in which this woman was concerned—there seems to be some evidence that +she got rid of an employer of hers by poison. And d'ye know what I +think, now?—I think that had been sent to Kitely, and he'd plagued her +about it, or held it out as a threat to her—and—what is it?"</p> + +<p>The superintendent had risen and was taking down his overcoat.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that this woman's leaving the town tomorrow?" he said. "And +there's her nephew with her, now—been here for a week? Of course, I +understand why you've told me all this, Mr. Cotherstone—now that your +old affair at Wilchester is common knowledge, far and wide, you don't +care, and you don't see any reason for more secrecy?"</p> + +<p>"My reason," answered Cotherstone, with a grim smile, "is to show +Highmarket folk that they aren't so clever as they think. For the +probability is that Kitely was killed by that woman, or her nephew, or +both."</p> + +<p>"I'm going up there with a couple of my best men, any way," said the +superintendent. "There's no time to lose if they're clearing out +tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"I'll come with you," said Cotherstone. He waited, staring at the fire +until the superintendent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> had been into the adjacent police-station and +had come back to say that he and his men were ready. "What do you mean +to do?" he asked as the four of them set out. "Take them?"</p> + +<p>"Question them first," answered the superintendent. "I shan't let them +get out of my sight, any way, after what you've told me, for I expect +you're right in your conclusions. What is it?" he asked, as one of the +two men who followed behind called him.</p> + +<p>The man pointed down the Market Place to the doors of the +police-station.</p> + +<p>"Two cars just pulled up there, sir," he said. "Came round the corner +just now from the Norcaster road."</p> + +<p>The superintendent glanced back and saw two staring headlights standing +near his own door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, there's Smith there," he said. "And if it's anybody wanting +me, he knows where I've gone. Come on—for aught we know these two may +have cleared out already."</p> + +<p>But there were thin cracks of light in the living-room window of the +lonely cottage on the Shawl, and the superintendent whispered that +somebody was certainly there and still up. He halted his companions +outside the garden gate and turned to Cotherstone.</p> + +<p>"I don't know if it'll be advisable for you to be seen," he said. "I +think our best plan'll be for me to knock at the front door and ask for +the woman. You other two go round—quietly—to the back door, and take +care that nobody gets out that way to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> moors at the back—if anybody +once escapes to those moors they're as good as lost for ever on a dark +night. Go round—and when you hear me knock at the front, you knock at +the back."</p> + +<p>The two men slipped away round the corner of the garden and through the +adjacent belt of trees, and the superintendent gently lifted the latch +of the garden gate.</p> + +<p>"You keep back, Mr. Cotherstone, when I go to the door," he said. "You +never know—hullo, what's this?"</p> + +<p>Men were coming up the wood behind them, quietly but quickly. One of +them, ahead of the others, carried a bull's-eye lamp and in swinging it +about revealed himself as one of the superintendent's own officers. He +caught sight of his superior and came forward.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brereton's here, sir, and some gentlemen from Norcaster," he said. +"They want to see you particularly—something about this place, so I +brought them——"</p> + +<p>It was at that moment that the sound of the two revolver shots rang out +in the silence from the stillness of the cottage. And at that the +superintendent dashed forward, with a cry to the others, and began to +beat on the front door, and while his men responded with similar +knockings at the back he called loudly on Miss Pett to open.</p> + +<p>It was Mallalieu who at last flung the door open and confronted the +amazed and wondering group clustered thickly without. Every man there +shrank back affrighted at the desperation on the cornered man's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> face. +But Mallalieu did not shrink, and his hand was strangely steady as he +singled out his partner and shot him dead—and just as steady as he +stepped back and turned the revolver on himself.</p> + +<p>A moment later the superintendent snatched the bull's-eye lamp from his +man, and stepped over Mallalieu's dead body and went into the +cottage—to come back on the instant shivering and sick with shock at +the sight his startled eyes had met.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>THE BARRISTER'S FEE</h3> + +<p>Six months later, on a fine evening which came as the fitting close of a +perfect May afternoon, Brereton got out of a London express at Norcaster +and entered the little train which made its way by a branch line to the +very heart of the hills. He had never been back to these northern +regions since the tragedies of which he had been an unwilling witness, +and when the little train came to a point in its winding career amongst +the fell-sides and valleys from whence Highmarket could be seen, with +the tree-crowned Shawl above it, he resolutely turned his face and +looked in the opposite direction. He had no wish to see the town again; +he would have been glad to cut that chapter out of his book of memories. +Nevertheless, being so near to it, he could not avoid the recollections +which came crowding on him because of his knowledge that Highmarket's +old gables and red roofs were there, within a mile or two, had he cared +to look at them in the glint of the westering sun. No—he would never +willingly set foot in that town again!—there was nobody there now that +he had any desire to see. Bent, when the worst was over, and the strange +and sordid story had come to its end, had sold his business,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> quietly +married Lettie and taken her away for a long residence abroad, before +returning to settle down in London. Brereton had seen them for an hour +or two as they passed through London on their way to Paris and Italy, +and had been more than ever struck by young Mrs. Bent's philosophical +acceptance of facts. Her father, in Lettie's opinion, had always been a +deeply-wronged and much injured man, and it was his fate to have +suffered by his life-long connexion with that very wicked person, +Mallalieu: he had unfortunately paid the penalty at last—and there was +no more to be said about it. It might be well, thought Brereton, that +Bent's wife should be so calm and equable of temperament, for Bent, on +his return to England, meant to go in for politics, and Lettie would +doubtless make an ideal help-meet for a public man. She would face +situations with a cool head and a well-balanced judgment—and so, in +that respect, all was well. All the same, Brereton had a strong notion +that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bent would ever revisit Highmarket.</p> + +<p>As for himself, his thoughts went beyond Highmarket—to the place +amongst the hills which he had never seen. After Harborough's due +acquittal Brereton, having discharged his task, had gone back to London. +But ever since then he had kept up a regular correspondence with Avice, +and he knew all the details of the new life which had opened up for her +and her father with the coming of Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye. Her letters +were full of vivid descriptions of Wraye itself, and of the steward's +house in which she and Harborough—now appointed steward and agent to +his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> foster-brother's estate—had taken up their residence. She had a +gift of description, and Brereton had gained a good notion of Wraye from +her letters—an ancient and romantic place, set amongst the wild hills +of the Border, lonely amidst the moors, and commanding wide views of +river and sea. It was evidently the sort of place in which a lover of +open spaces, such as he knew Avice to be, could live an ideal life. But +Brereton had travelled down from London on purpose to ask her to leave +it.</p> + +<p>He had come at last on a sudden impulse, unknown to any one, and +therefore unexpected. Leaving his bag at the little station in the +valley at which he left the train just as the sun was setting behind the +surrounding hills, he walked quickly up a winding road between groves of +fir and pine towards the great grey house which he knew must be the +place into which the man from Australia had so recently come under +romantic circumstances. At the top of a low hill he paused and looked +about him, recognizing the scenes from the descriptions which Avice had +given him in her letters. There was Wraye itself—a big, old-world +place, set amongst trees at the top of a long park-like expanse of +falling ground; hills at the back, the sea in the far distance. The +ruins of an ancient tower stood near the house; still nearer to +Brereton, in an old-fashioned flower garden, formed by cutting out a +plateau on the hillside, stood a smaller house which he knew—also from +previous description—to be the steward's. He looked long at this before +he went nearer to it, hoping to catch the flutter of a gown amongst the +rose-trees already bright with bloom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> And at last, passing through the +rose-trees he went to the stone porch and knocked—and was half-afraid +lest Avice herself should open the door to him. Instead, came; a +strapping, redcheeked North-country lass who stared at this evident +traveller from far-off parts before she found her tongue. No—Miss Avice +wasn't in, she was down the garden, at the far end.</p> + +<p>Brereton hastened down the garden; turned a corner; they met +unexpectedly. Equally unexpected, too, was the manner of their meeting. +For these two had been in love with each other from an early stage of +their acquaintance, and it seemed only natural now that when at last +they touched hands, hand should stay in hand. And when two young people +hold each other's hands, especially on a Springtide evening, and under +the most romantic circumstances and surroundings, lips are apt to say +more than tongues—which is as much as to say that without further +preface these two expressed all they had to say in their first kiss.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Brereton found his tongue at last. For when he had taken a +long and searching look at the girl and had found in her eyes what he +sought, he turned and looked at wood, hill, sky, and sea.</p> + +<p>"This is all as you described it" he said, with his arm round her, "and +yet the first real thing I have to say to you now that I am here is—to +ask you to leave it!"</p> + +<p>She smiled at that and again put her hand in his.</p> + +<p>"But—we shall come back to it now and then—together!" she said.</p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="ADVERTISEMENTS" id="ADVERTISEMENTS"></a>ADVERTISEMENTS</h2> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h2>EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p><b>TARZAN THE UNTAMED</b></p> + +<p>Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home.</p> + +<p><b>JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN</b></p> + +<p>Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to +ape kingship.</p> + +<p><b>A PRINCESS OF MARS</b></p> + +<p>Forty-three million miles from the earth—a succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, finds +himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with the +Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons.</p> + +<p><b>THE GODS OF MARS</b></p> + +<p>Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he does +battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose mighty tails +swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terrible +Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres.</p> + +<p><b>THE WARLORD OF MARS</b></p> + +<p>Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, +Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in the +union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah +Thoris.</p> + +<p><b>THUVIA, MAID OF MARS</b></p> + +<p>The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventures +of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian +Emperor.</p> + +<p class="center">GROSSET & DUNLAP. <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FLORENCE L. BARCLAY'S NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p><b>THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER</b></p> + +<p>A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her +lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments +follow.</p> + +<p><b>THE UPAS TREE</b></p> + +<p>A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and his +wife.</p> + +<p><b>THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE</b></p> + +<p>The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages +vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of +abiding love.</p> + +<p><b>THE ROSARY</b></p> + +<p>The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all else +in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains life's +greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two real people +superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its exceeding reward.</p> + +<p><b>THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE</b></p> + +<p>The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a +husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who is +ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each other. When +he learns her real identity a situation of singular power is developed.</p> + +<p><b>THE BROKEN HALO</b></p> + +<p>The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in +childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years older +than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted.</p> + +<p><b>THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR</b></p> + +<p>The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, marries +wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the conditions of her +uncle's will, and how they finally come to love each other and are +reunited after experiences that soften and purify.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ZANE GREY'S NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p><b>THE MAN OF THE FOREST</b></p> + +<p><b>THE DESERT OF WHEAT</b></p> + +<p><b>THE U. P. TRAIL</b></p> + +<p><b>WILDFIRE</b></p> + +<p><b>THE BORDER LEGION</b></p> + +<p><b>THE RAINBOW TRAIL</b></p> + +<p><b>THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT</b></p> + +<p><b>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</b></p> + +<p><b>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</b></p> + +<p><b>THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN</b></p> + +<p><b>THE LONE STAR RANGER</b></p> + +<p><b>DESERT GOLD</b></p> + +<p><b>BETTY ZANE</b></p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p><b>LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS</b></p> + +<p>The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, with +Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey.</p> + +<h3>ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS</h3> + +<p><b>KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE</b></p> + +<p><b>THE YOUNG LION HUNTER</b></p> + +<p><b>THE YOUNG FORESTER</b></p> + +<p><b>THE YOUNG PITCHER</b></p> + +<p><b>THE SHORT STOP</b></p> + +<p><b>THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES</b></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S</h2> + +<h3>STORIES OF ADVENTURE</h3> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p><b>THE RIVER'S END</b></p> + +<p>A story of the Royal Mounted Police.</p> + +<p><b>THE GOLDEN SNARE</b></p> + +<p>Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland.</p> + +<p><b>NOMADS OF THE NORTH</b></p> + +<p>The story of a bear-cub and a dog.</p> + +<p><b>KAZAN</b></p> + +<p>The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate.</p> + +<p><b>BAREE, SON OF KAZAN</b></p> + +<p>The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman.</p> + +<p><b>THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM</b></p> + +<p>The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battle +with Captain Plum.</p> + +<p><b>THE DANGER TRAIL</b></p> + +<p>A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North.</p> + +<p><b>THE HUNTED WOMAN</b></p> + +<p>A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman.</p> + +<p><b>THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH</b></p> + +<p>The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France.</p> + +<p><b>THE GRIZZLY KING</b></p> + +<p>The story of Thor, the big grizzly.</p> + +<p><b>ISOBEL</b></p> + +<p>A love story of the Far North.</p> + +<p><b>THE WOLF HUNTERS</b></p> + +<p>A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness.</p> + +<p><b>THE GOLD HUNTERS</b></p> + +<p>The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds.</p> + +<p><b>THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE</b></p> + +<p>Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women.</p> + +<p><b>BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY</b></p> + +<p>A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made from +this book.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY</h3> + +<h2>GENE STRATTON-PORTER.</h2> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p><b>MICHAEL O'HALLORAN.</b> Illustrated by Frances Rogers.</p> + +<p>Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern +Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes +the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and +onward.</p> + +<p><b>LADDIE.</b> Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.</p> + +<p>This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story +is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it +is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs +of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and +the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood +and about whose family there hangs a mystery.</p> + +<p><b>THE HARVESTER.</b> Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.</p> + +<p>"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had +nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. +But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance +of the rarest idyllic quality.</p> + +<p><b>FRECKLES.</b> Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment.</p> + +<p><b>A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST.</b> Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant loveable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.</p> + +<p><b>AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW.</b> Illustrations in colors.</p> + +<p>The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The +story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. +The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and +its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.</p> + +<p><b>THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL.</b> Profusely illustrated.</p> + +<p>A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and +humor.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p><b>THE LAMP IN THE DESERT</b></p> + +<p>The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the lamp +of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations to +final happiness.</p> + +<p><b>GREATHEART</b></p> + +<p>The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul.</p> + +<p><b>THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE</b></p> + +<p>A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance."</p> + +<p><b>THE SWINDLER</b></p> + +<p>The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith.</p> + +<p><b>THE TIDAL WAVE</b></p> + +<p>Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false.</p> + +<p><b>THE SAFETY CURTAIN</b></p> + +<p>A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Borough Treasurer, by Joseph Smith Fletcher + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOROUGH TREASURER *** + +***** This file should be named 20630-h.htm or 20630-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/3/20630/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Borough Treasurer + +Author: Joseph Smith Fletcher + +Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20630] +[Last updated: May 17, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOROUGH TREASURER *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE BOROUGH +TREASURER + +BY + +J. S. FLETCHER + +AUTHOR OF + +THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER, +THE PARADISE MYSTERY, ETC. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. + +Published July, 1921 +Second Printing, November, 1921 + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + +CONTENTS + + + I BLACKMAIL, 1 + + II CRIME--AND SUCCESS, 11 + + III MURDER, 21 + + IV THE PINE WOOD, 31 + + V THE CORD, 41 + + VI THE MAYOR, 52 + + VII NIGHT WORK, 61 + + VIII RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE, 71 + + IX ANTECEDENTS, 82 + + X THE HOLE IN THE THATCH, 91 + + XI CHRISTOPHER PETT, 101 + + XII PARENTAL ANXIETY, 111 + + XIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER, 121 + + XIV THE SHEET OF FIGURES, 131 + + XV ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER, 141 + + XVI THE LONELY MOOR, 149 + + XVII THE MEDICAL OPINION, 159 + + XVIII THE SCRAP BOOK, 171 + + XIX A TALL MAN IN GREY CLOTHES, 181 + + XX AT BAY, 191 + + XXI THE INTERRUPTED FLIGHT, 203 + + XXII THE HAND IN THE DARKNESS, 211 + + XXIII COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY, 221 + + XXIV STRICT BUSINESS LINES, 231 + + XXV NO FURTHER EVIDENCE, 242 + + XXVI THE VIRTUES OF SUSPICION, 251 + + XXVII MR. WRAYTHWAITE OF WRAYE, 260 + +XXVIII PAGES FROM THE PAST, 269 + + XXIX WITHOUT THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCES, 277 + + XXX COTHERSTONE, 283 + + XXXI THE BARRISTER'S FEE, 302 + + + + +THE BOROUGH TREASURER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BLACKMAIL + + +Half way along the north side of the main street of Highmarket an +ancient stone gateway, imposing enough to suggest that it was originally +the entrance to some castellated mansion or manor house, gave access to +a square yard, flanked about by equally ancient buildings. What those +buildings had been used for in other days was not obvious to the casual +and careless observer, but to the least observant their present use was +obvious enough. Here were piles of timber from Norway; there were stacks +of slate from Wales; here was marble from Aberdeen, and there cement +from Portland: the old chambers of the grey buildings were filled to +overflowing with all the things that go towards making a +house--ironwork, zinc, lead, tiles, great coils of piping, stores of +domestic appliances. And on a shining brass plate, set into the wall, +just within the gateway, were deeply engraven the words: _Mallalieu and +Cotherstone, Builders and Contractors_. + +Whoever had walked into Mallalieu & Cotherstone's yard one October +afternoon a few years ago would have seen Mallalieu and Cotherstone in +person. The two partners had come out of their office and gone down the +yard to inspect half a dozen new carts, just finished, and now drawn up +in all the glory of fresh paint. Mallalieu had designed those carts +himself, and he was now pointing out their advantages to Cotherstone, +who was more concerned with the book-keeping and letter-writing side of +the business than with its actual work. He was a big, fleshy man, +Mallalieu, midway between fifty and sixty, of a large, solemn, +well-satisfied countenance, small, sly eyes, and an expression of steady +watchfulness; his attire was always of the eminently respectable sort, +his linen fresh and glossy; the thick gold chain across his ample front, +and the silk hat which he invariably wore, gave him an unmistakable air +of prosperity. He stood now, the silk hat cocked a little to one side, +one hand under the tail of his broadcloth coat, a pudgy finger of the +other pointing to some new feature of the mechanism of the new carts, +and he looked the personification of self-satisfaction and smug content. + +"All done in one action, d'ye see, Cotherstone?" he was saying. "One +pull at that pin releases the entire load. We'd really ought to have a +patent for that idea." + +Cotherstone went nearer the cart which they were examining. He was a +good deal of a contrast to his partner--a slightly built, wiry man, +nervous and quick of movement; although he was Mallalieu's junior he +looked older, and the thin hair at his temples was already whitening. +Mallalieu suggested solidity and almost bovine sleekness; in +Cotherstone, activity of speech and gesture was marked well-nigh to an +appearance of habitual anxiety. He stepped about the cart with the quick +action of an inquisitive bird or animal examining something which it has +never seen before. + +"Yes, yes, yes!" he answered. "Yes, that's a good idea. But if it's to +be patented, you know, we ought to see to it at once, before these carts +go into use." + +"Why, there's nobody in Highmarket like to rob us," observed Mallalieu, +good-humouredly. "You might consider about getting--what do they call +it?--provisional protection?--for it." + +"I'll look it up," responded Cotherstone. "It's worth that, anyhow." + +"Do," said Mallalieu. He pulled out the big gold watch which hung from +the end of his cable chain and glanced at its jewelled dial. "Dear me!" +he exclaimed. "Four o'clock--I've a meeting in the Mayor's parlour at +ten past. But I'll look in again before going home." + +He hurried away towards the entrance gate, and Cotherstone, after +ruminative inspection of the new carts, glanced at some papers in his +hand and went over to a consignment of goods which required checking. He +was carefully ticking them off on a list when a clerk came down the +yard. + +"Mr. Kitely called to pay his rent, sir," he announced. "He asked to see +you yourself." + +"Twenty-five--six--seven," counted Cotherstone. "Take him into the +private office, Stoner," he answered. "I'll be there in a minute." + +He continued his checking until it was finished, entered the figures on +his list, and went briskly back to the counting-house near the gateway. +There he bustled into a room kept sacred to himself and Mallalieu, with +a cheery greeting to his visitor--an elderly man who had recently +rented from him a small house on the outskirts of the town. + +"Afternoon, Mr. Kitely," he said. "Glad to see you, sir--always glad to +see anybody with a bit of money, eh? Take a chair, sir--I hope you're +satisfied with the little place, Mr. Kitely?" + +The visitor took the offered elbow-chair, folded his hands on the top of +his old-fashioned walking-cane, and glanced at his landlord with a +half-humorous, half-quizzical expression. He was an elderly, +clean-shaven, grey-haired man, spare of figure, dressed in rusty black; +a wisp of white neckcloth at his throat gave him something of a clerical +appearance: Cotherstone, who knew next to nothing about him, except that +he was able to pay his rent and taxes, had already set him down as a +retired verger of some cathedral. + +"I should think you and Mr. Mallalieu are in no need of a bit of money, +Mr. Cotherstone," he said quietly. "Business seems to be good with you, +sir." + +"Oh, so-so," replied Cotherstone, off-handedly. "Naught to complain of, +of course. I'll give you a receipt, Mr. Kitely," he went on, seating +himself at his desk and taking up a book of forms. "Let's +see--twenty-five pounds a year is six pound five a quarter--there you +are, sir. Will you have a drop of whisky?" + +Kitely laid a handful of gold and silver on the desk, took the receipt, +and nodded his head, still watching Cotherstone with the same +half-humorous expression. + +"Thank you," he said. "I shouldn't mind." + +He watched Cotherstone produce a decanter and glasses, watched him fetch +fresh water from a filter in the corner of the room, watched him mix the +drinks, and took his own with no more than a polite nod of thanks. And +Cotherstone, murmuring an expression of good wishes, took a drink +himself, and sat down with his desk-chair turned towards his visitor. + +"Aught you'd like doing at the house, Mr. Kitely?" he asked. + +"No," answered Kitely, "no, I can't say that there is." + +There was something odd, almost taciturn, in his manner, and Cotherstone +glanced at him a little wonderingly. + +"And how do you like Highmarket, now you've had a spell of it?" he +inquired. "Got settled down, I suppose, now?" + +"It's all that I expected," replied Kitely. "Quiet--peaceful. How do you +like it?" + +"Me!" exclaimed Cotherstone, surprised. "Me?--why, I've had--yes, +five-and-twenty years of it!" + +Kitely took another sip from his glass and set it down. He gave +Cotherstone a sharp look. + +"Yes," he said, "yes--five-and-twenty years. You and your partner, both. +Yes--it'll be just about thirty years since I first saw you. But--you've +forgotten." + +Cotherstone, who had been lounging forward, warming his hands at the +fire, suddenly sat straight up in his chair. His face, always sharp +seemed to grow sharper as he turned to his visitor with a questioning +look. + +"Since--what?" he demanded. + +"Since I first saw you--and Mr. Mallalieu," replied Kitely. "As I say, +you've forgotten. But--I haven't." + +Cotherstone sat staring at his tenant for a full minute of +speechlessness. Then he slowly rose, walked over to the door, looked at +it to see that it was closed, and returning to the hearth, fixed his +eyes on Kitely. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"Just what I say," answered Kitely, with a dry laugh. "It's thirty years +since I first saw you and Mallalieu. That's all." + +"Where?" demanded Cotherstone. + +Kitely motioned his landlord to sit down. And Cotherstone sat +down--trembling. His arm shook when Kitely laid a hand on it. + +"Do you want to know where?" he asked, bending close to Cotherstone. +"I'll tell you. In the dock--at Wilchester Assizes. Eh?" + +Cotherstone made no answer. He had put the tips of his fingers together, +and now he was tapping the nails of one hand against the nails of the +other. And he stared and stared at the face so close to his own--as if +it had been the face of a man resurrected from the grave. Within him +there was a feeling of extraordinary physical sickness; it was quickly +followed by one of inertia, just as extraordinary. He felt as if he had +been mesmerized; as if he could neither move nor speak. And Kitely sat +there, a hand on his victim's arm, his face sinister and purposeful, +close to his. + +"Fact!" he murmured. "Absolute fact! I remember everything. It's come on +me bit by bit, though. I thought I knew you when I first came +here--then I had a feeling that I knew Mallalieu. And--in time--I +remembered--everything! Of course, when I saw you both--where I did see +you--you weren't Mallalieu & Cotherstone. You were----" + +Cotherstone suddenly made an effort, and shook off the thin fingers +which lay on his sleeve. His pale face grew crimson, and the veins +swelled on his forehead. + +"Confound you!" he said in a low, concentrated voice. "Who are you?" + +Kitely shook his head and smiled quietly. + +"No need to grow warm," he answered. "Of course, it's excusable in you. +Who am I? Well, if you really want to know, I've been employed in the +police line for thirty-five years--until lately." + +"A detective!" exclaimed Cotherstone. + +"Not when I was present at Wilchester--that time," replied Kitely. "But +afterwards--in due course. Ah!--do you know, I often was curious as to +what became of you both! But I never dreamed of meeting you--here. Of +course, you came up North after you'd done your time? Changed your +names, started a new life--and here you are! Clever!" + +Cotherstone was recovering his wits. He had got out of his chair by that +time, and had taken up a position on the hearthrug, his back to the +fire, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his visitor. He was +thinking--and for the moment he let Kitely talk. + +"Yes--clever!" continued Kitely in the same level, subdued tones, "very +clever indeed! I suppose you'd carefully planted some of that money +you--got hold of? Must have done, of course--you'd want money to start +this business. Well, you've done all this on the straight, anyhow. And +you've done well, too. Odd, isn't it, that I should come to live down +here, right away in the far North of England, and find you in such good +circumstances, too! Mr. Mallalieu, Mayor of Highmarket--his second term +of office! Mr. Cotherstone, Borough Treasurer of Highmarket--now in his +sixth year of that important post! I say again--you've both done +uncommonly well--uncommonly!" + +"Have you got any more to say?" asked Cotherstone. + +But Kitely evidently intended to say what he had to say in his own +fashion. He took no notice of Cotherstone's question, and presently, as +if he were amusing himself with reminiscences of a long dead past, he +spoke again, quietly and slowly. + +"Yes," he murmured, "uncommonly well! And of course you'd have capital. +Put safely away, of course, while you were doing your time. Let's +see--it was a Building Society that you defrauded, wasn't it? Mallalieu +was treasurer, and you were secretary. Yes--I remember now. The amount +was two thous----" + +Cotherstone made a sudden exclamation and a sharp movement--both +checked by an equally sudden change of attitude and expression on the +part of the ex-detective. For Kitely sat straight up and looked the +junior partner squarely in the face. + +"Better not, Mr. Cotherstone!" he said, with a grin that showed his +yellow teeth. "You can't very well choke the life out of me in your own +office, can you? You couldn't hide my old carcase as easily as you and +Mallalieu hid those Building Society funds, you know. So--be calm! I'm a +reasonable man--and getting an old man." + +He accompanied the last words with a meaning smile, and Cotherstone took +a turn or two about the room, trying to steady himself. And Kitely +presently went on again, in the same monotonous tones: + +"Think it all out--by all means," he said. "I don't suppose there's a +soul in all England but myself knows your secret--and Mallalieu's. It +was sheer accident, of course, that I ever discovered it. But--I know! +Just consider what I do know. Consider, too, what you stand to lose. +There's Mallalieu, so much respected that he's Mayor of this ancient +borough for the second time. There's you--so much trusted that you've +been Borough Treasurer for years. You can't afford to let me tell the +Highmarket folk that you two are ex-convicts! Besides, in your case +there's another thing--there's your daughter." + +Cotherstone groaned--a deep, unmistakable groan of sheer torture. But +Kitely went on remorselessly. + +"Your daughter's just about to marry the most promising young man in the +place," he said. "A young fellow with a career before him. Do you think +he'd marry her if he knew that her father--even if it is thirty years +ago--had been convicted of----" + +"Look you here!" interrupted Cotherstone, through set teeth. "I've had +enough! I've asked you once before if you'd any more to say--now I'll +put it in another fashion. For I see what you're after--and it's +blackmail! How much do you want? Come on--give it a name!" + +"Name nothing, till you've told Mallalieu," answered Kitely. "There's no +hurry. You two can't, and I shan't, run away. Time enough--I've the whip +hand. Tell your partner, the Mayor, all I've told you--then you can put +your heads together, and see what you're inclined to do. An annuity, +now?--that would suit me." + +"You haven't mentioned this to a soul?" asked Cotherstone anxiously. + +"Bah!" sneered Kitely. "D'ye think I'm a fool? Not likely. Well--now you +know. I'll come in here again tomorrow afternoon. And--you'll both be +here, and ready with a proposal." + +He picked up his glass, leisurely drank off its remaining contents, and +without a word of farewell opened the door and went quietly away. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CRIME--AND SUCCESS + + +For some moments after Kitely had left him, Cotherstone stood vacantly +staring at the chair in which the blackmailer had sat. As yet he could +not realize things. He was only filled with a queer, vague amazement +about Kitely himself. He began to look back on his relations with +Kitely. They were recent--very recent, only of yesterday, as you might +say. Kitely had come to him, one day about three months previously, told +him that he had come to these parts for a bit of a holiday, taken a +fancy to a cottage which he, Cotherstone, had to let, and inquired its +rent. He had mentioned, casually, that he had just retired from +business, and wanted a quiet place wherein to spend the rest of his +days. He had taken the cottage, and given his landlord satisfactory +references as to his ability to pay the rent--and Cotherstone, always a +busy man, had thought no more about him. Certainly he had never +anticipated such an announcement as that which Kitely had just made to +him--never dreamed that Kitely had recognized him and Mallalieu as men +he had known thirty years ago. + +It had been Cotherstone's life-long endeavour to forget all about the +event of thirty years ago, and to a large extent he had succeeded in +dulling his memory. But Kitely had brought it all back--and now +everything was fresh to him. His brows knitted and his face grew dark as +he thought of one thing in his past of which Kitely had spoken so easily +and glibly--the dock. He saw himself in that dock again--and Mallalieu +standing by him. They were not called Mallalieu and Cotherstone then, of +course. He remembered what their real names were--he remembered, too, +that, until a few minutes before, he had certainly not repeated them, +even to himself, for many a long year. Oh, yes--he remembered +everything--he saw it all again. The case had excited plenty of +attention in Wilchester at the time--Wilchester, that for thirty years +had been so far away in thought and in actual distance that it might +have been some place in the Antipodes. It was not a nice case--even now, +looking back upon it from his present standpoint, it made him blush to +think of. Two better-class young working-men, charged with embezzling +the funds of a building society to which they had acted as treasurer and +secretary!--a bad case. The Court had thought it a bad case, and the +culprits had been sentenced to two years' imprisonment. And now +Cotherstone only remembered that imprisonment as one remembers a +particularly bad dream. Yes--it had been real. + +His eyes, moody and brooding, suddenly shifted their gaze from the easy +chair to his own hands--they were shaking. Mechanically he took up the +whisky decanter from his desk, and poured some of its contents into his +glass--the rim of the glass tinkled against the neck of the decanter. +Yes--that had been a shock, right enough, he muttered to himself, and +not all the whisky in the world would drive it out of him. But a +drink--neat and stiff--would pull his nerves up to pitch, and so he +drank, once, twice, and sat down with the glass in his hand--to think +still more. + +That old Kitely was shrewd--shrewd! He had at once hit on a fact which +those Wilchester folk of thirty years ago had never suspected. It had +been said at the time that the two offenders had lost the building +society's money in gambling and speculation, and there had been grounds +for such a belief. But that was not so. Most of the money had been +skilfully and carefully put where the two conspirators could lay hands +on it as soon as it was wanted, and when the term of imprisonment was +over they had nothing to do but take possession of it for their own +purposes. They had engineered everything very well--Cotherstone's +essentially constructive mind, regarding their doings from the vantage +ground of thirty years' difference, acknowledged that they had been +cute, crafty, and cautious to an admirable degree of perfection. Quietly +and unobtrusively they had completely disappeared from their own +district in the extreme South of England, when their punishment was +over. They had let it get abroad that they were going to another +continent, to retrieve the past and start a new life; it was even known +that they repaired to Liverpool, to take ship for America. But in +Liverpool they had shuffled off everything of the past--names, +relations, antecedents. There was no reason why any one should watch +them out of the country, but they had adopted precautions against such +watching. They separated, disappeared, met again in the far North, in a +sparsely-populated, lonely country of hill and dale, led there by an +advertisement which they had seen in a local newspaper, met with by +sheer chance in a Liverpool hotel. There was an old-established business +to sell as a going concern, in the dale town of Highmarket: the two +ex-convicts bought it. From that time they were Anthony Mallalieu and +Milford Cotherstone, and the past was dead. + +During the thirty years in which that past had been dead, Cotherstone +had often heard men remark that this world of ours is a very small one, +and he had secretly laughed at them. To him and to his partner the world +had been wide and big enough. They were now four hundred miles away from +the scene of their crime. There was nothing whatever to bring Wilchester +people into that northern country, nothing to take Highmarket folk +anywhere near Wilchester. Neither he nor Mallalieu ever went far +afield--London they avoided with particular care, lest they should meet +any one there who had known them in the old days. They had stopped at +home, and minded their business, year in and year out. Naturally, they +had prospered. They had speedily become known as hard-working young men; +then as good employers of labour; finally as men of considerable +standing in a town of which there were only some five thousand +inhabitants. They had been invited to join in public matters--Mallalieu +had gone into the Town Council first; Cotherstone had followed him +later. They had been as successful in administering the affairs of the +little town as in conducting their own, and in time both had attained +high honours: Mallalieu was now wearing the mayoral chain for the second +time; Cotherstone, as Borough Treasurer, had governed the financial +matters of Highmarket for several years. And as he sat there, staring at +the red embers of the office fire, he remembered that there were no two +men in the whole town who were more trusted and respected than he and +his partner--his partner in success ... and in crime. + +But that was not all. Both men had married within a few years of their +coming to Highmarket. They had married young women of good standing in +the neighbourhood; it was perhaps well, reflected Cotherstone, that +their wives were dead, and that Mallalieu had never been blessed with +children. But Cotherstone had a daughter, of whom he was as fond as he +was proud; for her he had toiled and contrived, always intending her to +be a rich woman. He had seen to it that she was well educated; he had +even allowed himself to be deprived of her company for two years while +she went to an expensive school, far away; since she had grown up, he +had surrounded her with every comfort. And now, as Kitely had reminded +him, she was engaged to be married to the most promising young man in +Highmarket, Windle Bent, a rich manufacturer, who had succeeded to and +greatly developed a fine business, who had already made his mark on the +Town Council, and was known to cherish Parliamentary ambitions. +Everybody knew that Bent had a big career before him; he had all the +necessary gifts; all the proper stuff in him for such a career. He would +succeed; he would probably win a title for himself--a baronetcy, perhaps +a peerage. This was just the marriage which Cotherstone desired for +Lettie; he would die more than happy if he could once hear her called +Your Ladyship. And now here was--this! + +Cotherstone sat there a long time, thinking, reflecting, reckoning up +things. The dusk had come; the darkness followed; he made no movement +towards the gas bracket. Nothing mattered but his trouble. That must be +dealt with. At all costs, Kitely's silence must be purchased--aye, even +if it cost him and Mallalieu one-half of what they had. And, of course, +Mallalieu must be told--at once. + +A tap of somebody's knuckles on the door of the private room roused him +at last, and he sprang up and seized a box of matches as he bade the +person without to enter. The clerk came in, carrying a sheaf of papers, +and Cotherstone bustled to the gas. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I've dropped off into a nod over this warm +fire, Stoner. What's that--letters?" + +"There's all these letters to sign, Mr. Cotherstone, and these three +contracts to go through," answered the clerk. "And there are those +specifications to examine, as well." + +"Mr. Mallalieu'll have to see those," said Cotherstone. He lighted the +gas above his desk, put the decanter and the glasses aside, and took the +letters. "I'll sign these, anyhow," he said, "and then you can post 'em +as you go home. The other papers'll do tomorrow morning." + +The clerk stood slightly behind his master as Cotherstone signed one +letter after the other, glancing quickly through each. He was a young +man of twenty-two or three, with quick, observant manners, a keen eye, +and a not handsome face, and as he stood there the face was bent on +Cotherstone with a surmising look. Stoner had noticed his employer's +thoughtful attitude, the gloom in which Cotherstone sat, the decanter on +the table, the glass in Cotherstone's hand, and he knew that Cotherstone +was telling a fib when he said he had been asleep. He noticed, too, the +six sovereigns and the two or three silver coins lying on the desk, and +he wondered what had made his master so abstracted that he had forgotten +to pocket them. For he knew Cotherstone well, and Cotherstone was so +particular about money that he never allowed even a penny to lie out of +place. + +"There!" said Cotherstone, handing back the batch of letters. "You'll be +going now, I suppose. Put those in the post. I'm not going just yet, so +I'll lock up the office. Leave the outer door open--Mr. Mallalieu's +coming back." + +He pulled down the blinds of the private room when Stoner had gone, and +that done he fell to walking up and down, awaiting his partner. And +presently Mallalieu came, smoking a cigar, and evidently in as good +humour as usual. + +"Oh, you're still here?" he said as he entered. "I--what's up?" + +He had come to a sudden halt close to his partner, and he now stood +staring at him. And Cotherstone, glancing past Mallalieu's broad +shoulder at a mirror, saw that he himself had become startlingly pale +and haggard. He looked twenty years older than he had looked when he +shaved himself that morning. + +"Aren't you well?" demanded Mallalieu. "What is it?" + +Cotherstone made no answer. He walked past Mallalieu and looked into the +outer office. The clerk had gone, and the place was only half-lighted. +But Cotherstone closed the door with great care, and when he went back +to Mallalieu he sank his voice to a whisper. + +"Bad news!" he said. "Bad--bad news!" + +"What about?" asked Mallalieu. "Private? Business?" + +Cotherstone put his lips almost close to Mallalieu's ear. + +"That man Kitely--my new tenant," he whispered. "He's met us--you and +me--before!" + +Mallalieu's rosy cheeks paled, and he turned sharply on his companion. + +"Met--us!" he exclaimed. "Him! Where?--when?" + +Cotherstone got his lips still closer. + +"Wilchester!" he answered. "Thirty years ago. He--knows!" + +Mallalieu dropped into the nearest chair: dropped as if he had been +shot. His face, full of colour from the keen air outside, became as pale +as his partner's; his jaw fell, his mouth opened; a strained look came +into his small eyes. + +"Gad!" he muttered hoarsely. "You--you don't say so!" + +"It's a fact," answered Cotherstone. "He knows everything. He's an +ex-detective. He was there--that day." + +"Tracked us down?" asked Mallalieu. "That it?" + +"No," said Cotherstone. "Sheer chance--pure accident. Recognized +us--after he came here. Aye--after all these years! Thirty years!" + +Mallalieu's eyes, roving about the room, fell on the decanter. He pulled +himself out of his chair, found a clean glass, and took a stiff drink. +And his partner, watching him, saw that his hands, too, were shaking. + +"That's a facer!" said Mallalieu. His voice had grown stronger, and the +colour came back to his cheeks. "A real facer! As you say--after thirty +years! It's hard--it's blessed hard! And--what does he want? What's he +going to do?" + +"Wants to blackmail us, of course," replied Cotherstone, with a +mirthless laugh. "What else should he do? What could he do? Why, he +could tell all Highmarket who we are, and----" + +"Aye, aye!--but the thing is here," interrupted Mallalieu. + +"Supposing we do square him?--is there any reliance to be placed on him +then? It 'ud only be the old game--he'd only want more." + +"He said an annuity," remarked Cotherstone, thoughtfully. "And he added +significantly, that he was getting an old man." + +"How old?" demanded Mallalieu. + +"Between sixty and seventy," said Cotherstone. "I'm under the impression +that he could be squared, could be satisfied. He'll have to be! We can't +let it get out--I can't, any way. There's my daughter to think of." + +"D'ye think I'd let it get out?" asked Mallalieu. "No!--all I'm thinking +of is if we really can silence him. I've heard of cases where a man's +paid blackmail for years and years, and been no better for it in the +end." + +"Well--he's coming here tomorrow afternoon some time," said Cotherstone. +"We'd better see him--together. After all, a hundred a year--a couple of +hundred a year--'ud be better than--exposure." + +Mallalieu drank off his whisky and pushed the glass aside. + +"I'll consider it," he remarked. "What's certain sure is that he'll have +to be quietened. I must go--I've an appointment. Are you coming out?" + +"Not yet," replied Cotherstone. "I've all these papers to go through. +Well, think it well over. He's a man to be feared." + +Mallalieu made no answer. He, like Kitely, went off without a word of +farewell, and Cotherstone was once more left alone. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MURDER + + +When Mallalieu had gone, Cotherstone gathered up the papers which his +clerk had brought in, and sitting down at his desk tried to give his +attention to them. The effort was not altogether a success. He had hoped +that the sharing of the bad news with his partner would bring some +relief to him, but his anxieties were still there. He was always seeing +that queer, sinister look in Kitely's knowing eyes: it suggested that as +long as Kitely lived there would be no safety. Even if Kitely kept his +word, kept any compact made with him, he would always have the two +partners under his thumb. And for thirty years Cotherstone had been +under no man's thumb, and the fear of having a master was hateful to +him. He heartily wished that Kitely was dead--dead and buried, and his +secret with him; he wished that it had been anywise possible to have +crushed the life out of him where he sat in that easy chair as soon as +he had shown himself the reptile that he was. A man might kill any +poisonous insect, any noxious reptile at pleasure--why not a human +blood-sucker like that? + +He sat there a long time, striving to give his attention to his papers, +and making a poor show of it. The figures danced about before him; he +could make neither head nor tail of the technicalities in the +specifications and estimates; every now and then fits of abstraction +came over him, and he sat drumming the tips of his fingers on his +blotting-pad, staring vacantly at the shadows in the far depths of the +room, and always thinking--thinking of the terrible danger of +revelation. And always, as an under-current, he was saying that for +himself he cared naught--Kitely could do what he liked, or would have +done what he liked, had there only been himself to think for. +But--Lettie! All his life was now centred in her, and in her happiness, +and Lettie's happiness, he knew, was centred in the man she was going to +marry. And Cotherstone, though he believed that he knew men pretty well, +was not sure that he knew Windle Bent sufficiently to feel sure that he +would endure a stiff test. Bent was ambitious--he was resolved on a +career. Was he the sort of man to stand the knowledge which Kitely might +give him? For there was always the risk that whatever he and Mallalieu +might do, Kitely, while there was breath in him, might split. + +A sudden ringing at the bell of the telephone in the outer office made +Cotherstone jump in his chair as if the arresting hand of justice had +suddenly been laid on him. In spite of himself he rose trembling, and +there were beads of perspiration on his forehead as he walked across the +room. + +"Nerves!" he muttered to himself. "I must be in a queer way to be taken +like that. It won't do!--especially at this turn. What is it?" he +demanded, going to the telephone. "Who is that?" + +His daughter's voice, surprised and admonitory, came to him along the +wire. + +"Is that you, father?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Don't you +remember you asked Windle, and his friend Mr. Brereton, to supper at +eight o'clock. It's a quarter to eight now. Do come home!" + +Cotherstone let out an exclamation which signified annoyance. The event +of the late afternoon had completely driven it out of his recollection +that Windle Bent had an old school-friend, a young barrister from +London, staying with him, and that both had been asked to supper that +evening at Cotherstone's house. But Cotherstone's annoyance was not +because of his own forgetfulness, but because his present abstraction +made him dislike the notion of company. + +"I'd forgotten--for the moment," he called. "I've been very busy. All +right, Lettie--I'm coming on at once. Shan't be long." + +But when he had left the telephone he made no haste. He lingered by his +desk; he was slow in turning out the gas; slow in quitting and locking +up his office; he went slowly away through the town. Nothing could have +been further from his wishes than a desire to entertain company that +night--and especially a stranger. His footsteps dragged as he passed +through the market-place and turned into the outskirts beyond. + +Some years previously to this, when they had both married and made +money, the two partners had built new houses for themselves. Outside +Highmarket, on its western boundary, rose a long, low hill called +Highmarket Shawl; the slope which overhung the town was thickly covered +with fir and pine, amidst which great masses of limestone crag jutted +out here and there. At the foot of this hill, certain plots of building +land had been sold, and Mallalieu had bought one and Cotherstone +another, and on these they had erected two solid stone houses, fitted up +with all the latest improvements known to the building trade. Each was +proud of his house; each delighted in welcoming friends and +acquaintances there--this was the first night Cotherstone could remember +on which it was hateful to him to cross his own threshold. The lighted +windows, the smell of good things cooked for supper, brought him no +sense of satisfaction; he had to make a distinct effort to enter and to +present a face of welcome to his two guests, who were already there, +awaiting him. + +"Couldn't get in earlier," he said, replying to Lettie's half-anxious, +half-playful scoldings. "There was some awkward business turned up this +evening--and as it is, I shall have to run away for an hour after +supper--can't be helped. How do you do, sir?" he went on, giving his +hand to the stranger. "Glad to see you in these parts--you'll find this +a cold climate after London, I'm afraid." + +He took a careful look at Bent's friend as they all sat down to +supper--out of sheer habit of inspecting any man who was new to him. And +after a glance or two he said to himself that this young limb of the law +was a sharp chap--a keen-eyed, alert, noticeable fellow, whose every +action and tone denoted great mental activity. He was sharper than Bent, +said Cotherstone, and in his opinion, that was saying a good deal. +Bent's ability was on the surface; he was an excellent specimen of the +business man of action, who had ideas out of the common but was not so +much given to deep and quiet thinking as to prompt doing of things +quickly decided on. He glanced from one to the other, mentally comparing +them. Bent was a tall, handsome man, blonde, blue-eyed, ready of word +and laugh; Brereton, a medium-sized, compact fellow, dark of hair and +eye, with an olive complexion that almost suggested foreign origin: the +sort, decided Cotherstone, that thought a lot and said little. And +forcing himself to talk he tried to draw the stranger out, watching him, +too, to see if he admired Lettie. For it was one of Cotherstone's +greatest joys in life to bring folk to his house and watch the effect +which his pretty daughter had on them, and he was rewarded now in seeing +that the young man from London evidently applauded his friend's choice +and paid polite tribute to Lettie's charm. + +"And what might you have been doing with Mr. Brereton since he got down +yesterday?" asked Cotherstone. "Showing him round, of course?" + +"I've been tormenting him chiefly with family history," answered Bent, +with a laughing glance at his sweetheart. "You didn't know I was raking +up everything I could get hold of about my forbears, did you? Oh, I've +been busy at that innocent amusement for a month past--old Kitely put me +up to it." + +Cotherstone could barely repress an inclination to start in his chair; +he himself was not sure that he did not show undue surprise. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Kitely? My tenant? What does he know about your +family? A stranger!" + +"Much more than I do," replied Bent. "The old chap's nothing to do, you +know, and since he took up his abode here he's been spending all his +time digging up local records--he's a good bit of an antiquary, and that +sort of thing. The Town Clerk tells me Kitely's been through nearly all +the old town documents--chests full of them! And Kitely told me one day +that if I liked he'd trace our pedigree back to I don't know when, and +as he seemed keen, I told him to go ahead. He's found out a lot of +interesting things in the borough records that I never heard of." + +Cotherstone had kept his eyes on his plate while Bent was talking; he +spoke now without looking up. + +"Oh?" he said, trying to speak unconcernedly. "Ah!--then you'll have +been seeing a good deal of Kitely lately?" + +"Not so much," replied Bent. "He's brought me the result of his work now +and then--things he's copied out of old registers, and so on." + +"And what good might it all amount to?" asked Cotherstone, more for the +sake of talking than for any interest he felt. "Will it come to aught?" + +"Bent wants to trace his family history back to the Conquest," observed +Brereton, slyly. "He thinks the original Bent came over with the +Conqueror. But his old man hasn't got beyond the Tudor period yet." + +"Never mind!" said Bent. "There were Bents in Highmarket in Henry the +Seventh's time, anyhow. And if one has a pedigree, why not have it +properly searched out? He's a keen old hand at that sort of thing, +Kitely. The Town Clerk says he can read some of our borough charters of +six hundred years ago as if they were newspaper articles." + +Cotherstone made no remark on that. He was thinking. So Kitely was in +close communication with Bent, was he?--constantly seeing him, being +employed by him? Well, that cut two ways. It showed that up to now he +had taken no advantage of his secret knowledge and might therefore be +considered as likely to play straight if he were squared by the two +partners. But it also proved that Bent would probably believe anything +that Kitely might tell him. Certainly Kitely must be dealt with at once. +He knew too much, and was obviously too clever, to be allowed to go +about unfettered. Cost what it might, he must be attached to the +Mallalieu-Cotherstone interest. And what Cotherstone was concentrating +on just then, as he ate and drank, was--how to make that attachment in +such a fashion that Kitely would have no option but to keep silence. If +only he and Mallalieu could get a hold on Kitely, such as that which he +had on them---- + +"Well," he said as supper came to an end, "I'm sorry, but I'm forced to +leave you gentlemen for an hour, at any rate--can't be helped. Lettie, +you must try to amuse 'em until I come back. Sing Mr. Brereton some of +your new songs. Bent--you know where the whisky and the cigars are--help +yourselves--make yourselves at home." + +"You won't be more than an hour, father?" asked Lettie. + +"An hour'll finish what I've got to do," replied Cotherstone, "maybe +less--I'll be as quick as I can, anyway, my lass." + +He hurried off without further ceremony; a moment later and he had +exchanged the warmth and brightness of his comfortable dining-room for +the chill night and the darkness. And as he turned out of his garden he +was thinking still further and harder. So Windle Bent was one of those +chaps who have what folk call family pride, was he? Actually proud of +the fact that he had a pedigree, and could say who his grandfather and +grandmother were?--things on which most people were as hazy as they were +indifferent. In that case, if he was really family-proud, all the more +reason why Kitely should be made to keep his tongue still. For if Windle +Bent was going on the game of making out that he was a man of family, he +certainly would not relish the prospect of uniting his ancient blood +with that of a man who had seen the inside of a prison. +Kitely!--promptly and definitely--and for _good_!--that was the ticket. + +Cotherstone went off into the shadows of the night--and a good hour had +passed when he returned to his house. It was then ten o'clock; he +afterwards remembered that he glanced at the old grandfather clock in +his hall when he let himself in. All was very quiet in there; he opened +the drawing-room door to find the two young men and Lettie sitting over +a bright fire, and Brereton evidently telling the other two some story, +which he was just bringing to a conclusion. + +" ... for it's a fact, in criminal practice," Brereton was saying, "that +there are no end of undiscovered crimes--there are any amount of guilty +men going about free as the air, and----" + +"Hope you've been enjoying yourselves," said Cotherstone, going forward +to the group. "I've been as quick as I could." + +"Mr. Brereton has been telling us most interesting stories about +criminals," said Lettie. "Facts--much stranger than fiction!" + +"Then I'm sure it's time he'd something to refresh himself with," said +Cotherstone hospitably. "Come away, gentlemen, and we'll see if we can't +find a drop to drink and a cigar to smoke." + +He led the way to the dining-room and busied himself in bringing out +some boxes of cigars from a cupboard while Lettie produced decanters and +glasses from the sideboard. + +"So you're interested in criminal matters, sir?" observed Cotherstone as +he offered Brereton a cigar. "Going in for that line, eh?" + +"What practice I've had has been in that line," answered Brereton, with +a quiet laugh. "One sort of gets pitchforked into these things, you +know, so----" + +"What's that?" exclaimed Lettie, who was just then handing the young +barrister a tumbler of whisky and soda which Bent had mixed for him. +"Somebody running hurriedly up the drive--as if something had happened! +Surely you're not going to be fetched out again, father?" + +A loud ringing of the bell prefaced the entrance of some visitor, whose +voice was heard in eager conversation with a parlourmaid in the hall. + +"That's your neighbour--Mr. Garthwaite," said Bent. + +Cotherstone set down the cigars and opened the dining-room door. A +youngish, fresh-coloured man, who looked upset and startled, came out of +the hall, glancing round him inquiringly. + +"Sorry to intrude, Mr. Cotherstone," he said. "I say!--that old +gentleman you let the cottage to--Kitely, you know." + +"What of him?" demanded Cotherstone sharply. + +"He's lying there in the coppice above your house--I stumbled over him +coming through there just now," replied Garthwaite. "He--don't be +frightened, Miss Cotherstone--he's--well, there's no doubt of it--he's +dead! And----" + +"And--what?" asked Cotherstone. "What, man? Out with it!" + +"And I should say, murdered!" said Garthwaite. "I--yes, I just saw +enough to say that. Murdered--without a doubt!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PINE WOOD + + +Brereton, standing back in the room, the cigar which Cotherstone had +just given him unlighted in one hand, the glass which Lettie had +presented to him in the other, was keenly watching the man who had just +spoken and the man to whom he spoke. But all his attention was quickly +concentrated on Cotherstone. For despite a strong effort to control +himself, Cotherstone swayed a little, and instinctively put out a hand +and clutched Bent's arm. He paled, too--the sudden spasm of pallor was +almost instantly succeeded by a quick flush of colour. He made another +effort--and tried to laugh. + +"Nonsense, man!" he said thickly and hoarsely. "Murder? Who should want +to kill an old chap like that? It's--here, give me a drink, one of +you--that's--a bit startling!" + +Bent seized a tumbler which he himself had just mixed, and Cotherstone +gulped off half its contents. He looked round apologetically. + +"I--I think I'm not as strong as I was," he muttered. "Overwork, +likely--I've been a bit shaky of late. A shock like that----" + +"I'm sorry," said Garthwaite, who looked surprised at the effect of his +news. "I ought to have known better. But you see, yours is the nearest +house----" + +"Quite right, my lad, quite right," exclaimed Cotherstone. "You did the +right thing. Here!--we'd better go up. Have you called the police?" + +"I sent the man from the cottage at the foot of your garden," answered +Garthwaite. "He was just locking up as I passed, so I told him, and sent +him off." + +"We'll go," said Cotherstone. He looked round at his guests. "You'll +come?" he asked. + +"Don't you go, father," urged Lettie, "if you're not feeling well." + +"I'm all right," insisted Cotherstone. "A mere bit of weakness--that's +all. Now that I know what's to be faced--" he twisted suddenly on +Garthwaite--"what makes you think it's murder?" he demanded. "Murder! +That's a big word." + +Garthwaite glanced at Lettie, who was whispering to Bent, and shook his +head. + +"Tell you when we get outside," he said. "I don't want to frighten your +daughter." + +"Come on, then," said Cotherstone. He hurried into the hall and snatched +up an overcoat. "Fetch me that lantern out of the kitchen," he called to +the parlourmaid. "Light it! Don't you be afraid, Lettie," he went on, +turning to his daughter. "There's naught to be afraid of--now. You +gentlemen coming with us?" + +Bent and Brereton had already got into their coats: when the maid came +with the lantern, all four men went out. And as soon as they were in +the garden Cotherstone turned on Garthwaite. + +"How do you know he's murdered?" he asked. "How could you tell?" + +"I'll tell you all about it, now we're outside," answered Garthwaite. +"I'd been over to Spennigarth, to see Hollings. I came back over the +Shawl, and made a short cut through the wood. And I struck my foot +against something--something soft, you know--I don't like thinking of +that! And so I struck a match, and looked, and saw this old +fellow--don't like thinking of that, either. He was laid there, a few +yards out of the path that runs across the Shawl at that point. I saw he +was dead--and as for his being murdered, well, all I can say is, he's +been strangled! That's flat." + +"Strangled!" exclaimed Bent. + +"Aye, without doubt," replied Garthwaite. "There's a bit of rope round +his neck that tight that I couldn't put my little finger between it and +him! But you'll see for yourselves--it's not far up the Shawl. You never +heard anything, Mr. Cotherstone?" + +"No, we heard naught," answered Cotherstone. "If it's as you say, +there'd be naught to hear." + +He had led them out of his grounds by a side-gate, and they were now in +the thick of the firs and pines which grew along the steep, somewhat +rugged slope of the Shawl. He put the lantern into Garthwaite's hand. + +"Here--you show the way," he said. "I don't know where it is, of +course." + +"You were going straight to it," remarked Garthwaite. He turned to +Brereton, who was walking at his side. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?" he +asked. "I heard that Mr. Bent had a lawyer friend stopping with him just +now--we hear all the bits of news in a little place like Highmarket. +Well--you'll understand, likely--it hadn't been long done!" + +"You noticed that?" said Brereton. + +"I touched him," replied Garthwaite. "His hand and cheek were--just +warm. He couldn't have been dead so very long--as I judged matters. +And--here he is!" + +He twisted sharply round the corner of one of the great masses of +limestone which cropped out amongst the trees, and turned the light of +the lantern on the dead man. + +"There!" he said in a hushed voice. "There!" + +The four men came to a halt, each gazing steadily at the sight they had +come to see. It needed no more than a glance to assure each that he was +looking on death: there was that in Kitely's attitude which forbade any +other possibility. + +"He's just as I found him," whispered Garthwaite. "I came round this +rock from there, d'ye see, and my foot knocked against his shoulder. +But, you know, he's been dragged here! Look at that!" + +Brereton, after a glance at the body, had looked round at its +surroundings. The wood thereabouts was carpeted--thickly carpeted--with +pine needles; they lay several inches thick beneath the trunks of the +trees; they stretched right up to the edge of the rock. And now, as +Garthwaite turned the lantern, they saw that on this soft carpet there +was a great slur--the murderer had evidently dragged his victim some +yards across the pine needles before depositing him behind the rock. And +at the end of this mark there were plain traces of a struggle--the soft, +easily yielding stuff was disturbed, kicked about, upheaved, but as +Brereton at once recognized, it was impossible to trace footprints in +it. + +"That's where it must have been," said Garthwaite. "You see there's a +bit of a path there. The old man must have been walking along that path, +and whoever did it must have sprung out on him there--where all those +marks are--and when he'd strangled him dragged him here. That's how I +figure it, Mr. Cotherstone." + +Lights were coming up through the wood beneath them, glancing from point +to point amongst the trees. Then followed a murmur of voices, and three +or four men came into view--policemen, carrying their lamps, the man +whom Garthwaite had sent into the town, and a medical man who acted as +police surgeon. + +"Here!" said Bent, as the newcomers advanced and halted irresolutely. +"This way, doctor--there's work for you here--of a sort, anyway. Of +course, he's dead?" + +The doctor had gone forward as soon as he caught sight of the body, and +he dropped on his knees at its side while the others gathered round. In +the added light everybody now saw things more clearly. Kitely lay in a +heap--just as a man would lie who had been unceremoniously thrown down. +But Brereton's sharp eyes saw at once that after he had been flung at +the foot of the mass of rock some hand had disarranged his clothing. His +overcoat and under coat had been torn open, hastily, if not with +absolute violence; the lining of one trousers pocket was pulled out; +there were evidences that his waistcoat had been unbuttoned and its +inside searched: everything seemed to indicate that the murderer had +also been a robber. + +"He's not been dead very long," said the doctor, looking up. "Certainly +not more than three-quarters of an hour. Strangled? Yes!--and by +somebody who has more than ordinary knowledge of how quickly a man may +be killed in that way! Look how this cord is tied--no amateur did that." + +He turned back the neckcloth from the dead man's throat, and showed the +others how the cord had been slipped round the neck in a running-knot +and fastened tightly with a cunning twist. + +"Whoever did this had done the same thing before--probably more than +once," he continued. "No man with that cord round his neck, tightly +knotted like that, would have a chance--however free his hands might be. +He'd be dead before he could struggle. Does no one know anything about +this? No more than that?" he went on, when he had heard what Garthwaite +could tell. "Well, this is murder, anyway! Are there no signs of +anything about here?" + +"Don't you think his clothing looks as if he had been robbed?" said +Brereton, pointing to the obvious signs. "That should be noted before +he's moved." + +"I've noted that, sir," said the police-sergeant, who had bent over the +body while the doctor was examining it. "There's one of his pockets +turned inside out, and all his clothing's been torn open. Robbery, of +course--that's what it's been--murder for the sake of robbery!" + +One of the policemen, having satisfied his curiosity stepped back and +began to search the surroundings with the aid of his lamp. He suddenly +uttered a sharp exclamation. + +"Here's something!" he said, stooping to the foot of a pine-tree and +picking up a dark object. "An old pocket-book--nothing in it, though." + +"That was his," remarked Cotherstone. "I've seen it before. He used to +carry it in an inner pocket. Empty, do you say?--no papers?" + +"Not a scrap of anything," answered the policeman, handing the book over +to his sergeant, and proceeding to search further. "We'd best to see if +there's any footprints about." + +"You'd better examine that path, then," said Garthwaite. "You'll find no +prints on all this pine-needle stuff--naught to go by, anyway--it's too +thick and soft. But he must have come along that path, one way or +another--I've met him walking in here of an evening, more than once." + +The doctor, who had exchanged a word or two with the sergeant, turned to +Cotherstone. + +"Wasn't he a tenant of yours?" he asked. "Had the cottage at the top of +the Shawl here. Well, we'd better have the body removed there, and some +one should go up and warn his family." + +"There's no family," answered Cotherstone. "He'd naught but a +housekeeper--Miss Pett. She's an elderly woman--and not likely to be +startled, from what I've seen of her." + +"I'll go," said Bent. "I know the housekeeper." He touched Brereton's +elbow, and led him away amongst the trees and up the wood. "This is a +strange affair!" he continued when they were clear of the others. "Did +you hear what Dr. Rockcliffe said?--that whoever had done it was +familiar with that sort of thing!" + +"I saw for myself," replied Brereton. "I noticed that cord, and the knot +on it, at once. A man whose neck was tied up like that could be thrown +down, thrown anywhere, left to stand up, if you like, and he'd be +literally helpless, even if, as the doctor said, he had the use of his +hands. He'd be unconscious almost at once--dead very soon afterwards. +Murder?--I should think so!--and a particularly brutal and determined +one. Bent!--whoever killed that poor old fellow was a man of great +strength and of--knowledge! Knowledge, mind you!--he knew the trick. You +haven't any doubtful character in Highmarket who has ever lived in +India, have you?" + +"India! Why India?" asked Bent. + +"Because I should say that the man who did that job has learned some of +the Indian tricks with cords and knots," answered Brereton. "That +murder's suggestive of Thuggeeism in some respects. That the cottage?" +he went on, pointing to a dim light ahead of him. "This housekeeper, +now?--is she the sort who'll take it quietly?" + +"She's as queer a character as the old fellow himself was," replied +Bent, as they cleared the wood and entered a hedge-enclosed garden at +the end of which stood an old-fashioned cottage. "I've talked to her now +and then when calling here--I should say she's a woman of nerve." + +Brereton looked narrowly at Miss Pett when she opened the door. She +carried a tallow candle in one hand and held it high above her head to +throw a light on the callers; its dim rays fell more on herself than on +them. A tall, gaunt, elderly woman, almost fleshless of face, and with a +skin the colour of old parchment, out of which shone a pair of bright +black eyes; the oddity of her appearance was heightened by her +head-dress--a glaring red and yellow handkerchief tightly folded in such +a fashion as to cover any vestige of hair. Her arms, bare to the elbow, +and her hands were as gaunt as her face, but Brereton was quick to +recognize the suggestion of physical strength in the muscles and sinews +under the parchment-like skin. A strange, odd-looking woman altogether, +he thought, and not improved by the fact that she appeared to have lost +all her teeth, and that a long, sharp nose and prominent chin almost met +before her sunken lips. + +"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Bent?" she said, before either of the young +men could speak. "Mr. Kitely's gone out for his regular bedtime +constitution--he will have that, wet or fine, every night. But he's much +longer than usual, and----" + +She stopped suddenly, seeing some news in Bent's face, and her own +contracted to a questioning look. + +"Is there aught amiss?" she asked. "Has something happened him? Aught +that's serious? You needn't be afraid to speak, Mr. Bent--there's +naught can upset or frighten me, let me tell you--I'm past all that!" + +"I'm afraid Mr. Kitely's past everything, too, then," said Bent. He +looked steadily at her for a moment, and seeing that she understood, +went on. "They're bringing him up, Miss Pett--you'd better make ready. +You won't be alarmed--I don't think there's any doubt that he's been +murdered." + +The woman gazed silently at her visitors; then, nodding her turbaned +head, she drew back into the cottage. + +"It's what I expected," she muttered. "I warned him--more than once. +Well--let them bring him, then." + +She vanished into a side-room, and Bent and Brereton went down the +garden and met the others, carrying the dead man. Cotherstone followed +behind the police, and as he approached Bent he pulled him by the sleeve +and drew him aside. + +"There's a clue!" he whispered. "A clue, d'ye hear--a strong clue!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CORD + + +Ever since they had left the house at the foot of the pine wood, +Brereton had been conscious of a curious psychological atmosphere, +centring in Cotherstone. It had grown stronger as events had developed; +it was still stronger now as they stood outside the dead man's cottage, +the light from the open door and the white-curtained window falling on +Cotherstone's excited face. Cotherstone, it seemed to Brereton, was +unduly eager about something--he might almost be said to be elated. All +of his behaviour was odd. He had certainly been shocked when Garthwaite +burst in with the news--but this shock did not seem to be of the +ordinary sort. He had looked like fainting--but when he recovered +himself his whole attitude (so, at any rate, it had seemed to Brereton) +had been that of a man who has just undergone a great relief. To put the +whole thing into a narrow compass, it seemed as if Cotherstone appeared +to be positively pleased to hear--and to find beyond doubt--that Kitely +was dead. And now, as he stood glancing from one young man to the other, +his eyes glittered as if he were absolutely enjoying the affair: he +reminded Brereton of that type of theatre-goer who will insist on +pointing out stage effects as they occur before his eyes, forcing his +own appreciation of them upon fellow-watchers whose eyes are as keen as +his own. + +"A strong clue!" repeated Cotherstone, and said it yet again. "A good +'un! And if it's right, it'll clear matters up." + +"What is it?" asked Bent. He, too, seemed to be conscious that there was +something odd about his prospective father-in-law, and he was gazing +speculatively at him as if in wonder. "What sort of a clue?" + +"It's a wonder it didn't strike me--and you, too--at first," said +Cotherstone, with a queer sound that was half a chuckle. "But as long as +it's struck somebody, eh? One's as good as another. You can't think of +what it is, now?" + +"I don't know what you're thinking about," replied Bent, half +impatiently. + +Cotherstone gave vent to an unmistakable chuckle at that, and he +motioned them to follow him into the cottage. + +"Come and see for yourselves, then," he said. "You'll spot it. But, +anyway--Mr. Brereton, being a stranger, can't be expected to." + +The three men walked into the living-room of the cottage--a good-sized, +open-raftered, old-fashioned place, wherein burnt a bright fire, at +either side of which stood two comfortable armchairs. Before one of +these chairs, their toes pointing upwards against the fender, were a +pair of slippers; on a table close by stood an old lead tobacco-box, +flanked by a church-warden pipe, a spirit decanter, a glass, and a +plate on which were set out sugar and lemon--these Brereton took to be +indicative that Kitely, his evening constitutional over, was in the +habit of taking a quiet pipe and a glass of something warm before going +to bed. And looking round still further he became aware of an open +door--the door into which Miss Pett had withdrawn--and of a bed within +on which Kitely now lay, with Dr. Rockcliffe and the police-sergeant +bending over him. The other policemen stood by the table in the +living-room, and one of them--the man who had picked up the +pocket-book--whispered audibly to Cotherstone as he and his companions +entered. + +"The doctor's taking it off him," he said, with a meaning nod of his +head. "I'll lay aught it's as I say, Mr. Cotherstone." + +"Looks like it," agreed Cotherstone, rubbing his hands. "It certainly +looks like it, George. Sharp of you to notice it, though." + +Brereton took this conversation to refer to the mysterious clue, and his +suspicion was confirmed a moment later. The doctor and the sergeant came +into the living-room, the doctor carrying something in his hand which he +laid down on the centre table in full view of all of them. And Brereton +saw then that he had removed from the dead man's neck the length of grey +cord with which he had been strangled. + +There was something exceedingly sinister in the mere placing of that +cord before the eyes of these living men. It had wrought the death of +another man, who, an hour before, had been as full of vigorous life as +themselves; some man, equally vigorous, had used it as the instrument of +a foul murder. Insignificant in itself, a mere piece of strongly spun +and twisted hemp, it was yet singularly suggestive--one man, at any +rate, amongst those who stood looking at it, was reminded by it that the +murderer who had used it must even now have the fear of another and a +stronger cord before him. + +"Find who that cord belongs to, and you may get at something," suddenly +observed the doctor, glancing at the policemen. "You say it's a +butcher's cord?" + +The man who had just whispered to Cotherstone nodded. + +"It's a pig-killer's cord, sir," he answered. "It's what a pig-killer +fastens the pig down with--on the cratch." + +"A cratch?--what's that?" asked Brereton, who had gone close to the +table to examine the cord, and had seen that, though slender, it was +exceedingly strong, and of closely wrought fibre. "Is it a sort of +hurdle?" + +"That's it, sir," assented the policeman. "It is a sort of hurdle--on +four legs. They lay the pig on it, don't you see, and tie it down with a +cord of this sort--this cord's been used for that--it's greasy with long +use." + +"And it has been cut off a longer piece, of course," said the doctor. +"These cords are of considerable length, aren't they?" + +"Good length, sir--there's a regular coil, like," said the man. He, too, +bent down and looked at the length before him. "This has been cut off +what you might call recent," he went on, pointing to one end. + +"And cut off with a sharp knife, too." + +The police sergeant glanced at the doctor as if asking advice on the +subject of putting his thoughts into words. + +"Well?" said the doctor, with a nod of assent. "Of course, you've got +something in your mind, sergeant?" + +"Well, there is a man who kills pigs, and has such cords as that, lives +close by, doctor," he answered. "You know who I mean--the man they call +Gentleman Jack." + +"You mean Harborough," said the doctor. "Well--you'd better ask him if +he knows anything. Somebody might have stolen one of his cords. But +there are other pig-killers in the town, of course." + +"Not on this side the town, there aren't," remarked another policeman. + +"What is plain," continued the doctor, looking at Cotherstone and the +others, "is that Kitely was strangled by this rope, and that everything +on him of any value was taken. You'd better find out what he had, or was +likely to have, on him, sergeant. Ask the housekeeper." + +Miss Pett came from the inner room, where she had already begun her +preparations for laying out the body. She was as calm as when Bent first +told her of what had occurred, and she stood at the end of the table, +the cord between her and her questioners, and showed no emotion, no +surprise at what had occurred. + +"Can you tell aught about this, ma'am?" asked the sergeant. "You see +your master's met his death at somebody's hands, and there's no doubt +he's been robbed, too. Do you happen to know what he had on him?" + +The housekeeper, who had her arms full of linen, set her burden down on +a clothes-horse in front of the fire before she replied. She seemed to +be thinking deeply, and when she turned round again, it was to shake her +queerly ornamented head. + +"Well, I couldn't say exactly," she answered. "But I shouldn't wonder if +it was a good deal--for such as him, you know. He did carry money on +him--he was never short of money ever since I knew him, and sometimes +he'd a fair amount in his pockets--I know, of course, because he'd pull +it out, loose gold, and silver, and copper, and I've seen him take +bank-notes out of his pocket-book. But he'd be very like to have a good +deal more than usual on him tonight." + +"Why?" asked the sergeant. + +"Because he'd been to the bank this morning to draw his pension money," +replied Miss Pett. "I don't know how much that would be, any more than I +know where it came from. He was a close man--he'd never tell anybody +more than he liked, and he never told me aught about that. But I do know +it was what you'd call a fair amount--for a man that lives in a cottage. +He went to the bank this noon--he always went once a quarter--and he +said this afternoon that he'd go and pay his rent to Mr. Cotherstone +there--" + +"As he did," muttered Cotherstone, "yes--he did that." + +"Well, he'd have all the rest of his money on him," continued the +housekeeper. "And he'd have what he had before, because he'd other money +coming in than that pension. And I tell you he was the sort of man that +carried his money about him--he was foolish that way. And then he'd a +very valuable watch and chain--he told me they were a presentation, and +cost nearly a hundred pounds. And of course, he'd a pocket-book full of +papers." + +"This pocket-book?" asked the sergeant. + +"Aye, that's it, right enough," assented Miss Pett. "But he always had +it bursting with bits of letters and papers. You don't mean to say you +found it empty? You did?--very well then, I'm no fool, and I say that if +he's been murdered, there's been some reason for it altogether apart +from robbing him of what money and things he had on him! Whoever's taken +his papers wanted 'em bad!" + +"About his habits, now?" said the sergeant, ignoring Miss Pett's +suggestion. "Did he go walking on the Shawl every night?" + +"Regular as clock-work," answered the housekeeper. "He used to read and +write a deal at night--then he'd side away all his books and papers, get +his supper, and go out for an hour, walking round and about. Then he'd +come in, put on his slippers--there they are, set down to warm for +him--smoke one pipe, drink one glass of toddy--there's the stuff for +it--and go to bed. He was the regularest man I ever knew, in all he +did." + +"Was he out longer than usual tonight?" asked Bent, who saw that the +sergeant had no more to ask. "You seemed to suggest that, when we +came." + +"Well, he was a bit longer," admitted Miss Pett. "Of course, he varied. +But an hour was about his time. Up and down and about the hill-side he'd +go--in and out of the coppices. I've warned him more than once." + +"But why?" asked Brereton, whose curiosity was impelling him to take a +part in this drama. "What reason had you for warning him?" + +Miss Pett turned and looked scrutinizingly at her last questioner. She +took a calm and close observation of him and her curious face relaxed +into something like a smile. + +"I can tell what you are, mister," she said. "A law gentleman! I've seen +your sort many a time. And you're a sharp 'un, too! Well--you're young, +but you're old enough to have heard a thing or two. Did you never hear +that women have got what men haven't--instinct?" + +"Do you really tell me that the only reason you had for warning him +against going out late at night was--instinct?" asked Brereton. "Come, +now!" + +"Mostly instinct, anyhow," she answered. "Women have a sort of feeling +about things that men haven't--leastways, no men that I've ever met had +it. But of course, I'd more than that. Mr. Kitely, now, he was a +townsman--a London man. I'm a countrywoman. He didn't understand--you +couldn't get him to understand--that it's not safe to go walking in +lonely places in country districts like this late at night. When I'd got +to know his habits, I expostulated with him more than once. I pointed +out to him that in spots like this, where there's naught nearer than +them houses at the foot of the hill one way, and Harborough's cottage +another way, and both of 'em a good quarter of a mile off, and where +there's all these coverts and coppices and rocks, it was not safe for an +elderly man who sported a fine gold watch and chain to go wandering +about in the darkness. There's always plenty of bad characters in +country places who'd knock the King himself on the head for the sake of +as much as Mr. Kitely had on him, even if it was no more than the chain +which every Tom and Dick could see! And it's turned out just as I +prophesied. He's come to it!" + +"But you said just now that he must have been murdered for something +else than his valuables," said Brereton. + +"I said that if his papers were gone, somebody must have wanted them +bad," retorted Miss Pett. "Anyway, what's happened is just what I felt +might happen, and there he is--dead. And I should be obliged to some of +you if you'd send up a woman or two to help me lay him out, for I can't +be expected to do everything by myself, nor to stop in this cottage +alone, neither!" + +Leaving the doctor and a couple of policemen to arrange matters with the +housekeeper, the sergeant went outside, followed by the others. He +turned to Cotherstone. + +"I'm going down to Harborough's cottage, at the other end of the Shawl," +he said. "I don't expect to learn aught much there--yet--but I can see +if he's at home, anyway. If any of you gentlemen like to come down----" + +Bent laid a hand on Cotherstone's arm and turned him in the direction of +his house. + +"Brereton and I'll go with the sergeant," he said. "You must go +home--Lettie'll be anxious about things. Go down with him, Mr. +Garthwaite--you'll both hear more later." + +To Brereton's great surprise, Cotherstone made no objection to this +summary dismissal. He and Garthwaite went off in one direction; the +others, led by the observant policeman who had found the empty +pocket-book and recognized the peculiar properties of the cord, turned +away in another. + +"Where's this we're going now?" asked Brereton as he and Bent followed +their leaders through the trees and down the slopes of the Shawl. + +"To John Harborough's cottage--at the other end of the hill," answered +Bent. "He's the man they spoke of in there. He's a queer character--a +professional pig-killer, who has other trades as well. He does a bit of +rat-catching, and a bit of mole-catching--and a good deal of poaching. +In fact, he's an odd person altogether, not only in character but in +appearance. And the curious thing is that he's got an exceedingly +good-looking and accomplished daughter, a really superior girl who's +been well educated and earns her living as a governess in the town. +Queer pair they make if you ever see them together!" + +"Does she live with him?" asked Brereton. + +"Oh yes, she lives with him!" replied Bent. "And I believe that they're +very devoted to each other, though everybody marvels that such a man +should have such a daughter. There's a mystery about that man--odd +character that he is, he's been well bred, and the folk hereabouts call +him Gentleman Jack." + +"Won't all this give the girl a fright?" suggested Brereton. "Wouldn't +it be better if somebody went quietly to the man's cottage?" + +But when they came to Harborough's cottage, at the far end of the Shawl, +it was all in darkness. + +"Still, they aren't gone to bed," suddenly observed the policeman who +had a faculty for seeing things. "There's a good fire burning in the +kitchen grate, and they wouldn't leave that. Must be out, both of 'em." + +"Go in and knock quietly," counselled the sergeant. + +He followed the policeman up the flagged walk to the cottage door, and +the other two presently went after them. In the starlight Brereton +looked round at these new surroundings--an old, thatched cottage, set in +a garden amongst trees and shrubs, with a lean-to shed at one end of it, +and over everything an atmosphere of silence. + +The silence was suddenly broken. A quick, light step sounded on the +flagged path behind them, and the policemen turned their lamps in its +direction. And Brereton, looking sharply round, became aware of the +presence of a girl, who looked at these visitors wonderingly out of a +pair of beautiful grey eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE MAYOR + + +Here, then, thought Brereton, was Gentleman Jack's daughter--the girl of +whom Bent had just been telling him. He looked at her narrowly as she +stood confronting the strange group. A self-possessed young woman, he +said to himself--beyond a little heightening of colour, a little +questioning look about eyes and lips she showed no trace of undue +surprise or fear. Decidedly a good-looking young woman, too, and not at +all the sort of daughter that a man of queer character would be supposed +to have--refined features, an air of breeding, a suggestion of culture. +And he noticed that as he and Bent raised their hats, the two policemen +touched their helmets--they were evidently well acquainted with the +girl, and eyed her with some misgiving as well as respect. + +"Beg pardon, miss," said the sergeant, who was obviously anything but +pleased with his task. "But it's like this, d'you see?--your father, +now, does he happen to be at home?" + +"What is it you want?" she asked. And beginning a glance of inquiry at +the sergeant she finished it at Bent. "Has something happened, Mr. +Bent?" she went on. "If you want my father, and he's not in, then I +don't know where he is--he went out early in the evening, and he hadn't +returned when I left the house an hour ago." + +"I daresay it's nothing," replied Bent. "But the fact is that something +has happened. Your neighbour at the other end of the wood--old Mr. +Kitely, you know--he's been found dead." + +Brereton, closely watching the girl, saw that this conveyed nothing to +her, beyond the mere announcement. She moved towards the door of the +cottage, taking a key from her muff. + +"Yes?" she said. "And--I suppose you want my father to help? He may be +in--he may have gone to bed." + +She unlocked the door, walked into the open living-room, and turning up +a lamp which stood on the table, glanced around her. + +"No," she continued. "He's not come in--so----" + +"Better tell her, Mr. Bent," whispered the sergeant. "No use keeping it +back, sir--she'll have to know." + +"The fact is," said Bent, "Mr. Kitely--we're afraid--has been murdered." + +The girl turned sharply at that; her eyes dilated, and a brighter tinge +of colour came into her cheeks. + +"Murdered!" she exclaimed. "Shot?" + +Her eyes went past Bent to a corner of the room, and Brereton, following +them, saw that there stood a gun, placed amongst a pile of fishing-rods +and similar sporting implements. Her glance rested on it for only the +fraction of a second; then it went back to Bent's face. + +"I'd better tell you everything," said Bent quietly. "Mr. Kitely has +been strangled. And the piece of cord with which it was done is--so the +police here say--just such a piece as might have been cut off one of the +cords which your father uses in his trade, you know." + +"We aren't suggesting aught, you know, Miss Avice," remarked the +sergeant. "Don't go for to think that--at present. But, you see, +Harborough, he might have one o' those cords hanging about somewhere, +and--do you understand?" + +The girl had become very quiet, looking steadily from one man to the +other. Once more her eyes settled on Bent. + +"Do you know why Kitely was killed?" she asked suddenly. "Have you seen +any reason for it?" + +"He had been robbed, after his death," answered Bent. "That seems +absolutely certain." + +"Whatever you may say, you've got some suspicion about my father," she +remarked after a pause. "Well--all I can say is, my father has no need +to rob anybody--far from it, if you want the truth. But what do you +want?" she continued, a little impatiently. "My father isn't in, and I +don't know where he is--often he is out all night." + +"If we could just look round his shed, now?" said the sergeant. "Just to +see if aught's missing, like, you know. You see, miss----" + +"You can look round the shed--and round anywhere else," said Avice. +"Though what good that will do--well, you know where the shed is." + +She turned away and began taking off her hat and coat, and the four men +went out into the garden and turned to the lean-to shed at the end of +the cottage. A tiled verandah ran along the front of cottage and shed, +and the door of the shed was at its further end. But as the sergeant was +about to open it, the policeman of the observant nature made his third +discovery. He had been flashing the light of his bull's-eye lamp over +his surroundings, and he now turned it on a coil of rope which hung from +a nail in the boarded wall of the shed, between the door and the window. + +"There you are, gentlemen!" he said, lifting the lamp in one hand and +pointing triumphantly to a definite point of the coiled cord with the +index finger of the other. "There! Cut clean, too--just like the bit up +yonder!" + +Brereton pressed forward and looked narrowly at what the man was +indicating. There was no doubt that a length of cord had been freshly +cut off the coil, and cut, too, with an unusually sharp, keen-bladed +knife; the edges of the severance were clean and distinct, the separated +strands were fresh and unsoiled. It was obvious that a piece of that +cord had been cut from the rest within a very short time, and the +sergeant shook his head gravely as he took the coil down from its nail. + +"I don't think there's any need to look round much further, Mr. Bent," +he said. "Of course, I shall take this away with me, and compare it with +the shorter piece. But we'll just peep into this shed, so as to make +his daughter believe that was what we wanted: I don't want to frighten +her more than we have done. Naught there, you see," he went on, opening +the shed door and revealing a whitewashed interior furnished with +fittings and articles of its owner's trade. "Well, we'll away--with what +we've got." + +He went back to the door of the cottage and putting his head inside +called gently to its occupant. + +"Well?" demanded Avice. + +"All right, miss--we're going," said the sergeant. "But if your father +comes in, just ask him to step down to the police-station, d'you see?--I +should like to have a word or two with him." + +The girl made no answer to this gentle request, and when the sergeant +had joined the others, she shut the door of the cottage, and Brereton +heard it locked and bolted. + +"That's about the strangest thing of all!" he said as he and Bent left +the policemen and turned down a by-lane which led towards the town. "I +haven't a doubt that the piece of cord with which Kitely was strangled +was cut off that coil! Now what does it mean? Of course, to me it's the +very surest proof that this man Harborough had nothing to do with the +murder." + +"Why?" asked Bent. + +"Why? My dear fellow!" exclaimed Brereton. "Do you really think that any +man who was in possession of his senses would do such a thing? Take a +piece of cord from a coil--leave the coil where anybody could find +it--strangle a man with the severed piece and leave it round the +victim's neck? Absurd! No--a thousand times no!" + +"Well--and what then?" asked Bent. + +"Ah! Somebody cut that piece off--for the use it was put to," answered +Brereton. "But--who?" + +Bent made no reply for a while. Then, as they reached the outskirts of +the town, he clapped a hand on his companion's arm. + +"You're forgetting something--in spite of your legal mind," he said. +"The murderer may have been interrupted before he could remove it. And +in that case----" + +He stopped suddenly as a gate opened in the wall of a garden which they +were just passing, and a tall man emerged. In the light of the adjacent +lamp Bent recognized Mallalieu. Mallalieu, too, recognized him, and +stopped. + +"Oh, that you, Mr. Mayor!" exclaimed Bent. "I was just wondering whether +to drop in on you as I passed. Have you heard what's happened tonight?" + +"Heard naught," replied Mallalieu. "I've just been having a hand at +whist with Councillor Northrop and his wife and daughter. What has +happened, then?" + +They were all three walking towards the town by that time, and Bent +slipped between Brereton and Mallalieu and took the Mayor's arm. + +"Murder's happened," he said. "That's the plain truth of it. You know +old Kitely--your partner's tenant? Well, somebody's killed him." + +The effect of this announcement on Mallalieu was extraordinary. Bent +felt the arm into which he had just slipped his own literally quiver +with a spasmodic response to the astonished brain; the pipe which +Mallalieu was smoking fell from his lips; out of his lips came something +very like a cry of dismay. + +"God bless me!" he exclaimed. "You don't say so?" + +"It's a fact," said Bent. He stopped and picked up the fallen pipe. +"Sorry I let it out so clumsily--I didn't think it would affect you like +that. But there it is--Kitely's been murdered. Strangled!" + +"Strangled!" echoed Mallalieu. "Dear--dear--dear! When was this, now?" + +"Within the hour," replied Bent. "Mr. Brereton here--a friend of mine +from London--and I were spending the evening at your partner's, when +that neighbour of his, Garthwaite, came running in to tell Mr. +Cotherstone that Kitely was lying dead on the Shawl. Of course we all +went up." + +"Then--you've seen him?" demanded Mallalieu. "There's no doubt about +it?" + +"Doubt!" exclaimed Bent. "I should think there is no doubt! As +determined a murder as ever I heard of. No--there's no doubt." + +Mallalieu paused--at the gate of his own house. + +"Come in, gentlemen," he said. "Come in just a minute, anyway. I--egad +it's struck me all of a heap, has that news! Murder?--there hasn't been +such a thing in these parts ever since I came here, near thirty years +ago. Come in and tell me a bit more about it." + +He led the way up a gravelled drive, admitted himself and his visitors +to the house with a latchkey, and turned into a parlour where a fire +burned and a small supper-tray was set out on a table beneath a lamp. + +"All my folks'll have gone to bed," he said. "They go and leave me a +bite of something, you see--I'm often out late. Will you gentlemen have +a sandwich--or a dry biscuit? Well, you'll have a drink, then. And so," +he went on, as he produced glasses from the sideboard, "and so you were +spending the evening with Cotherstone, what?" + +"Well, I can't say that we exactly spent all the evening with him," +answered Bent, "because he had to go out for a good part of it, on +business. But we were with him--we were at his house--when the news +came." + +"Aye, he had to go out, had he?" asked Mallalieu, as if from mere +curiosity. "What time would that be, like? I knew he'd business +tonight--business of ours." + +"Nine to ten, roughly speaking," replied Bent. "He'd just got in when +Garthwaite came with the news." + +"It 'ud shock him, of course," suggested Mallalieu. "His own tenant!" + +"Yes--it was a shock," agreed Bent. He took the glass which his host +handed to him and sat down. "We'd better tell you all about it," he +said. "It's a queer affair--Mr. Brereton here, who's a barrister, thinks +it's a very queer affair." + +Mallalieu nodded and sat down, too, glass in hand. He listened +attentively--and Brereton watched him while he listened. A sleek, sly, +observant, watchful man, this, said Brereton to himself--the sort that +would take all in and give little out. And he waited expectantly to hear +what Mallalieu would say when he had heard everything. + +Mallalieu turned to him when Bent had finished. + +"I agree with you, sir," he said. "Nobody but a fool would have cut that +piece of cord off, left it round the man's neck, and left the coil +hanging where anybody could find it. And that man Harborough's no fool! +This isn't his job, Bent. No!" + +"Whose, then?" asked Bent. + +Mallalieu suddenly drank off the contents of his glass and rose. + +"As I'm chief magistrate, I'd better go down to see the police," he +said. "There's been a queer character or two hanging about the town of +late. I'd better stir 'em up. You won't come down, I suppose?" he +continued when they left the house together. + +"No--we can do no good," answered Bent. + +His own house was just across the road from Mallalieu's, and he and +Brereton said goodnight and turned towards it as the Mayor strode +quickly off in the direction of the police-station. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +NIGHT WORK + + +From the little colony of new houses at the foot of the Shawl to the +police station at the end of the High Street was only a few minutes' +walk. Mallalieu was a quick walker, and he covered this distance at his +top speed. But during those few minutes he came to a conclusion, for he +was as quick of thought as in the use of his feet. + +Of course, Cotherstone had killed Kitely. That was certain. He had begun +to suspect that as soon as he heard of the murder; he became convinced +of it as soon as young Bent mentioned that Cotherstone had left his +guests for an hour after supper. Without a doubt Cotherstone had lost +his head and done this foolish thing! And now Cotherstone must be +protected, safe-guarded; heaven and earth must be moved lest suspicion +should fall on him. For nothing could be done to Cotherstone without +effect upon himself--and of himself--and of himself Mallalieu meant to +take very good care. Never mind what innocent person suffered, +Cotherstone must go free. + +And the first thing to do was to assume direction of the police, to pull +strings, to engineer matters. No matter how much he believed in +Harborough's innocence, Harborough was the man to go for--at present. +Attention must be concentrated on him, and on him only. +Anything--anything, at whatever cost of morals and honesty to divert +suspicion from that fool of a Cotherstone!--if it were not already too +late. It was the desire to make sure that it was not too late, the +desire to be beforehand, that made Mallalieu hasten to the police. He +knew his own power, he had a supreme confidence in his ability to manage +things, and he was determined to give up the night to the scheme already +seething in his fertile brain rather than that justice should enter upon +what he would consider a wrong course. + +While he sat silently and intently listening to Bent's story of the +crime, Mallalieu, who could think and listen and give full attention to +both mental processes without letting either suffer at the expense of +the other, had reconstructed the murder. He knew Cotherstone--nobody +knew him half as well. Cotherstone was what Mallalieu called deep--he +was ingenious, resourceful, inventive. Cotherstone, in the early hours +of the evening, had doubtless thought the whole thing out. He would be +well acquainted with his prospective victim's habits. He would know +exactly when and where to waylay Kitely. The filching of the piece of +cord from the wall of Harborough's shed was a clever thing--infernally +clever, thought Mallalieu, who had a designing man's whole-hearted +admiration for any sort of cleverness in his own particular line. It +would be an easy thing to do--and what a splendidly important thing! Of +course Cotherstone knew all about Harborough's arrangements--he would +often pass the pig-killer's house--from the hedge of the garden he would +have seen the coils of greased rope hanging from their nails under the +verandah roof, aye, a thousand times. Nothing easier than to slip into +Harborough's garden from the adjacent wood, cut off a length of the +cord, use it--and leave it as a first bit of evidence against a man +whose public record was uncertain. Oh, very clever indeed!--if only +Cotherstone could carry things off, and not allow his conscience to +write marks on his face. And he must help--and innocent as he felt +Harborough to be, he must set things going against Harborough--his life +was as naught, against the Mallalieu-Cotherstone safety. + +Mallalieu walked into the police-station, to find the sergeant just +returned and in consultation with the superintendent, whom he had +summoned to hear his report. Both turned inquiringly on the Mayor. + +"I've heard all about it," said Mallalieu, bustling forward. "Mr. Bent +told me. Now then, where's that cord they talk about?" + +The sergeant pointed to the coil and the severed piece, which lay on a +large sheet of brown paper on a side-table, preparatory to being sealed +up. Mallalieu crossed over and made a short examination of these +exhibits; then he turned to the superintendent with an air of decision. + +"Aught been done?" he demanded. + +"Not yet, Mr. Mayor," answered the superintendent. "We were just +consulting as to what's best to be done." + +"I should think that's obvious," replied Mallalieu. "You must get to +work! Two things you want to do just now. Ring up Norcaster for one +thing, and High Gill Junction for another. Give 'em a description of +Harborough--he'll probably have made for one place or another, to get +away by train. And ask 'em at Norcaster to lend you a few plain-clothes +men, and to send 'em along here at once by motor--there's no train till +morning. Then, get all your own men out--now!--and keep folk off the +paths in that wood, and put a watch on Harborough's house, in case he +should put a bold face on it and come back--he's impudence enough--and +of course, if he comes, they'll take him. Get to all that now--at once!" + +"You think it's Harborough, then?" said the superintendent. + +"I think there's what the law folks call a prymer facy case against +him," replied Mallalieu. "It's your duty to get him, anyway, and if he +can clear himself, why, let him. Get busy with that telephone, and be +particular about help from Norcaster--we're under-staffed here as it +is." + +The superintendent hurried out of his office and Mallalieu turned to the +sergeant. + +"I understood from Mr. Bent," he said, "that that housekeeper of +Kitely's said the old fellow had been to the bank at noon today, to draw +some money? That so?" + +"So she said, your Worship," answered the sergeant. "Some allowance, or +something of that sort, that he drew once a quarter. She didn't know how +much." + +"But she thought he'd have it on him when he was attacked?" asked +Mallalieu. + +"She said he was a man for carrying his money on him always," replied +the sergeant. "We understood from her it was his habit. She says he +always had a good bit on him--as a rule. And of course, if he'd drawn +more today, why, he might have a fair lot." + +"We'll soon find that out," remarked Mallalieu. "I'll step round to the +bank manager and rouse him. Now you get your men together--this is no +time for sleeping. You ought to have men up at the Shawl now." + +"I've left one man at Kitely's cottage, sir, and another about +Harborough's--in case Harborough should come back during the night," +said the sergeant. "We've two more constables close by the station. I'll +get them up." + +"Do it just now," commanded Mallalieu. "I'll be back in a while." + +He hurried out again and went rapidly down the High Street to the +old-fashioned building near the Town Hall in which the one bank of the +little town did its business, and in which the bank manager lived. There +was not a soul about in the street, and the ringing of the bell at the +bank-house door, and the loud knock which Mallalieu gave in supplement +to it, seemed to wake innumerable echoes. And proof as he believed +himself to be against such slight things, the sudden opening of a window +above his head made him jump. + +The startled bank-manager, hurrying down to his midnight visitor in his +dressing-gown and slippers, stood aghast when he had taken the Mayor +within and learned his errand. + +"Certainly!" he said. "Kitely was in the bank today, about noon--I +attended to him myself. That's the second time he's been here since he +came to the town. He called here a day or two after he first took that +house from Mr. Cotherstone--to cash a draft for his quarter's pension. +He told me then who he was. Do you know?" + +"Not in the least," replied Mallalieu, telling the lie all the more +readily because he had been fully prepared for the question to which it +was an answer. "I knew naught about him." + +"He was an ex-detective," said the bank-manager. "Pensioned off, of +course: a nice pension. He told me he'd had--I believe it was getting on +to forty years' service in the police force. Dear, dear, this is a sad +business--and I'm afraid I can tell you a bit more about it." + +"What?" demanded Mallalieu, showing surprise in spite of himself. + +"You mentioned Harborough," said the bank-manager, shaking his head. + +"Well?" said Mallalieu. "What then?" + +"Harborough was at the counter when Kitely took his money," answered the +bank-manager. "He had called in to change a five-pound note." + +The two men looked at each other in silence for a time. Then the +bank-manager shook his head again. + +"You wouldn't think that a man who has a five-pound note of his own to +change would be likely, to murder another man for what he could get," he +went on. "But Kitely had a nice bit of money to carry away, and he wore +a very valuable gold watch and chain, which he was rather fond of +showing in the town, and----eh?" + +"It's a suspicious business," said Mallalieu. "You say Harborough saw +Kitely take his money?" + +"Couldn't fail," replied the bank-manager. "He was standing by him. The +old man put it--notes and gold--in a pocket that he had inside his +waistcoat." + +Mallalieu lingered, as if in thought, rubbing his chin and staring at +the carpet. "Well, that's a sort of additional clue," he remarked at +last. "It looks very black against Harborough." + +"We've the numbers of the notes that I handed to Kitely," observed the +bank-manager. "They may be useful if there's any attempt to change any +note, you know." + +Mallalieu shook his head. + +"Aye, just so," he answered. "But I should say there won't be--just yet. +It's a queer business, isn't it--but, as I say, there's evidence against +this fellow, and we must try to get him." + +He went out then and crossed the street to the doctor's house--while he +was about it, he wanted to know all he could. And with the doctor he +stopped much longer than he had stopped at the bank, and when he left +him he was puzzled. For the doctor said to him what he had said to +Cotherstone and to Bent and to the rest of the group in the wood--that +whoever had strangled Kitely had had experience in that sort of grim +work before--or else he was a sailorman who had expert knowledge of +tying knots. Now Mallalieu was by that time more certain than ever that +Cotherstone was the murderer, and he felt sure that Cotherstone had no +experience of that sort of thing. + +"Done with a single twist and a turn!" he muttered to himself as he +walked back to the police-station. "Aye--aye!--that seems to show +knowledge. But it's not my business to follow that up just now--I know +what my business is--nobody better." + +The superintendent and the sergeant were giving orders to two +sleepy-eyed policemen when Mallalieu rejoined them. He waited until the +policemen had gone away to patrol the Shawl and then took the +superintendent aside. + +"I've heard a bit more incriminatory news against Harborough," he said. +"He was in the bank this morning--or yesterday morning, as it now +is--when Kitely drew his money. There may be naught in that--and there +may be a lot. Anyway, he knew the old man had a goodish bit on him." + +The superintendent nodded, but his manner was doubtful. + +"Well, of course, that's evidence--considering things," he said, "but +you know as well as I do, Mr. Mayor, that Harborough's not a man that's +ever been in want of money. It's the belief of a good many folks in the +town that he has money of his own: he's always been a bit of a mystery +ever since I can remember. He could afford to give that daughter of his +a good education--good as a young lady gets--and he spends plenty, and I +never heard of him owing aught. Of course, he's a queer lot--we know +he's a poacher and all that, but he's so skilful about it that we've +never been able to catch him. I can't think he's the guilty party--and +yet----" + +"You can't get away from the facts," said Mallalieu. "He'll have to be +sought for. If he's made himself scarce--if he doesn't come home----" + +"Ah, that 'ud certainly be against him!" agreed the superintendent. +"Well, I'm doing all I can. We've got our own men out, and there's three +officers coming over from Norcaster by motor--they're on the way now." + +"Send for me if aught turns up," said Mallalieu. + +He walked slowly home, his brain still busy with possibilities and +eventualities. And within five minutes of his waking at his usual hour +of six it was again busy--and curious. For he and Cotherstone, both keen +business men who believed in constant supervision of their workmen, were +accustomed to meet at the yard at half-past six every morning, summer or +winter, and he was wondering what his partner would say and do--and look +like. + +Cotherstone was in the yard when Mallalieu reached it. He was giving +some orders to a carter, and he finished what he was doing before coming +up to Mallalieu. In the half light of the morning he looked pretty much +as usual--but Mallalieu noticed a certain worn look under his eyes and +suppressed nervousness in his voice. He himself remained silent and +observant, and he let Cotherstone speak first. + +"Well?" said Cotherstone, coming close to him as they stood in a vacant +space outside the office. "Well?" + +"Well?" responded Mallalieu. + +Cotherstone began to fidget with some account books and papers that he +had brought from his house. He eyed his partner with furtive glances; +Mallalieu eyed him with steady and watchful ones. + +"I suppose you've heard all about it?" said Cotherstone, after an +awkward silence. + +"Aye!" replied Mallalieu, drily. "Aye, I've heard." + +Cotherstone looked round. There was no one near him, but he dropped his +voice to a whisper. + +"So long as nobody but him knew," he muttered, giving Mallalieu another +side glance, "so long as he hadn't said aught to anybody--and I don't +think he had--we're--safe." + +Mallalieu was still staring quietly at Cotherstone. And Cotherstone +began to grow restless under that steady, questioning look. + +"Oh?" observed Mallalieu, at last. "Aye? You think so? Ah!" + +"Good God--don't you!" exclaimed Cotherstone, roused to a sudden anger. +"Why----" + +But just then a policeman came out of the High Street into the yard, +caught sight of the two partners, and came over to them, touching his +helmet. + +"Can your Worship step across the way?" he asked. "They've brought +Harborough down, and the Super wants a word with you." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE + + +Instead of replying to the policeman by word or movement, Mallalieu +glanced at Cotherstone. There was a curious suggestion in that glance +which Cotherstone did not like. He was already angry; Mallalieu's +inquiring look made him still angrier. + +"Like to come?" asked Mallalieu, laconically. + +"No!" answered Cotherstone, turning towards the office. "It's naught to +me." + +He disappeared within doors, and Mallalieu walked out of the yard into +the High Street--to run against Bent and Brereton, who were hurrying in +the direction of the police-station, in company with another constable. + +"Ah!" said Mallalieu as they met. "So you've heard, too, I suppose? +Heard that Harborough's been taken, I mean. Now, how was he taken?" he +went on, turning to the policeman who had summoned him. "And when, and +where?--let's be knowing about it." + +"He wasn't taken, your Worship," replied the man. "Leastways, not in +what you'd call the proper way. He came back to his house half an hour +or so ago--when it was just getting nicely light--and two of our men +that were there told him what was going on, and he appeared to come +straight down with them. He says he knows naught, your Worship." + +"That's what you'd expect," remarked Mallalieu, drily. "He'd be a fool +if he said aught else." + +He put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, and, followed by the +others, strolled into the police-station as if he were dropping in on +business of trifling importance. And there was nothing to be seen there +which betokened that a drama of life and death was being constructed in +that formal-looking place of neutral-coloured walls, precise furniture, +and atmosphere of repression. Three or four men stood near the +superintendent's desk; a policeman was writing slowly and laboriously on +a big sheet of blue paper at a side-table, a woman was coaxing a +sluggish fire to burn. + +"The whole thing's ridiculous!" said a man's scornful voice. "It +shouldn't take five seconds to see that." + +Brereton instinctively picked out the speaker. That was Harborough, of +course--the tall man who stood facing the others and looking at them as +if he wondered how they could be as foolish as he evidently considered +them to be. He looked at this man with great curiosity. There was +certainly something noticeable about him, he decided. A wiry, alert, +keen-eyed man, with good, somewhat gipsy-like features, much tanned by +the weather, as if he were perpetually exposed to sun and wind, rain and +hail; sharp of movement, evidently of more than ordinary intelligence, +and, in spite of his rough garments and fur cap, having an indefinable +air of gentility and breeding about him. Brereton had already noticed +the pitch and inflection of his voice; now, as Harborough touched his +cap to the Mayor, he noticed that his hands, though coarsened and +weather-browned, were well-shaped and delicate. Something about him, +something in his attitude, the glance of his eye, seemed to indicate +that he was the social superior of the policemen, uniformed or +plain-clothed, who were watching him with speculative and slightly +puzzled looks. + +"Well, and what's all this, now?" said Mallalieu coming to a halt and +looking round. "What's he got to say, like?" + +The superintendent looked at Harborough and nodded. And Harborough took +that nod at its true meaning, and he spoke--readily. + +"This!" he said, turning to the new-comers, and finally addressing +himself to Mallalieu. "And it's what I've already said to the +superintendent here. I know nothing about what's happened to Kitely. I +know no more of his murder than you do--not so much, I should say--for I +know naught at all beyond what I've been told. I left my house at eight +o'clock last night--I've been away all night--I got back at six o'clock +this morning. As soon as I heard what was afoot, I came straight here. I +put it to you, Mr. Mayor--if I'd killed this old man, do you think I'd +have come back? Is it likely?" + +"You might ha' done, you know," answered Mallalieu. "There's no +accounting for what folks will do--in such cases. But--what else? Say +aught you like--it's all informal, this." + +"Very well," continued Harborough. "They tell me the old man was +strangled by a piece of cord that was evidently cut off one of my coils. +Now, is there any man in his common senses would believe that if I did +that job, I should leave such a bit of clear evidence behind me? I'm not +a fool!" + +"You might ha' been interrupted before you could take that cord off his +neck," suggested Mallalieu. + +"Aye--but you'd have to reckon up the average chances of that!" +exclaimed Harborough, with a sharp glance at the bystanders. "And the +chances are in my favour. No, sir!--whoever did this job, cut that +length of cord off my coil, which anybody could get at, and used it to +throw suspicion on me! That's the truth--and you'll find it out some +day, whatever happens now." + +Mallalieu exchanged glances with the superintendent and then faced +Harborough squarely, with an air of inviting confidence. + +"Now, my lad!" he said, almost coaxingly. "There's a very simple thing +to do, and it'll clear this up as far as you're concerned. Just answer a +plain question. Where ha' you been all night?" + +A tense silence fell--broken by the crackling of the wood in the grate, +which the charwoman had at last succeeded in stirring into a blaze, and +by the rattling of the fire-irons which she now arranged in the fender. +Everybody was watching the suspected man, and nobody as keenly as +Brereton. And Brereton saw that a deadlock was at hand. A strange look +of obstinacy and hardness came into Harborough's eyes, and he shook his +head. + +"No!" he answered. "I shan't say! The truth'll come out in good time +without that. It's not necessary for me to say. Where I was during the +night is my business--nobody else's." + +"You'll not tell?" asked Mallalieu. + +"I shan't tell," replied Harborough. + +"You're in danger, you know," said Mallalieu. + +"In your opinion," responded Harborough, doggedly. "Not in mine! There's +law in this country. You can arrest me, if you like--but you'll have +your work set to prove that I killed yon old man. No, sir! But----" here +he paused, and looking round him, laughed almost maliciously "--but I'll +tell you what I'll do," he went on. "I'll tell you this, if it'll do you +any good--if I liked to say the word, I could prove my innocence down to +the ground! There!" + +"And you won't say that word?" asked Mallalieu. + +"I shan't! Why? Because it's not necessary. Why!" demanded Harborough, +laughing with an expresssion of genuine contempt. "What is there against +me? Naught! As I say, there's law in this country--there's such a thing +as a jury. Do you believe that any jury would convict a man on what +you've got? It's utter nonsense!" + +The constable who had come down from the Shawl with Bent and Brereton +had for some time been endeavouring to catch the eye of the +superintendent. Succeeding in his attempts at last, he beckoned that +official into a quiet corner of the room, and turning his back on the +group near the fireplace, pulled something out of his pocket. The two +men bent over it, and the constable began to talk in whispers. + +Mallalieu meanwhile was eyeing Harborough in his stealthy, steady +fashion. He looked as if he was reckoning him up. + +"Well, my lad," he observed at last. "You're making a mistake. If you +can't or won't tell what you've been doing with yourself between eight +last night and six this morning, why, then----" + +The superintendent came back, holding something in his hand. He, too, +looked at Harborough. + +"Will you hold up your left foot?--turn the sole up," he asked. "Just to +see--something." + +Harborough complied, readily, but with obvious scornful impatience. And +when he had shown the sole of the left foot, the superintendent opened +his hand and revealed a small crescent-shaped bit of bright steel. + +"That's off the toe of your boot, Harborough," he said. "You know it is! +And it's been picked up--just now, as it were--where this affair +happened. You must have lost it there during the last few hours, because +it's quite bright--not a speck of rust on it, you see. What do you say +to that, now?" + +"Naught!" retorted Harborough, defiantly. "It is mine, of course--I +noticed it was working loose yesterday. And if it was picked up in that +wood, what then? I passed through there last night on my way to--where I +was going. God--you don't mean to say you'd set a man's life on bits +o'things like that!" + +Mallalieu beckoned the superintendent aside and talked with him. Almost +at once he himself turned away and left the room, and the +superintendent came back to the group by the fireplace. + +"Well, there's no help for it, Harborough," he said. "We shall have to +detain you--and I shall have to charge you, presently. It can't be +helped--and I hope you'll be able to clear yourself." + +"I expected nothing else," replied Harborough. "I'm not blaming you--nor +anybody. Mr. Bent," he continued, turning to where Bent and Brereton +stood a little apart. "I'd be obliged to you if you'd do something for +me. Go and tell my daughter about this, if you please! You see, I came +straight down here--I didn't go into my house when I got back. If you'd +just step up and tell her--and bid her not be afraid--there's naught to +be afraid of, as she'll find--as everybody'll find." + +"Certainly," said Bent. "I'll go at once." He tapped Brereton on the +arm, and led him out into the street. "Well?" he asked, when they were +outside. "What do you think of that, now?" + +"That man gives one all the suggestion of innocence," remarked Brereton, +thoughtfully, "and from a merely superficial observation of him, I, +personally, should say he is innocent. But then, you know, I've known +the most hardened and crafty criminals assume an air of innocence, and +keep it up, to the very end. However, we aren't concerned about that +just now--the critical point here, for Harborough, at any rate, is the +evidence against him." + +"And what do you think of that?" asked Bent. + +"There's enough to warrant his arrest," answered Brereton, "and he'll be +committed on it, and he'll go for trial. All that's certain--unless +he's a sensible man, and tells what he was doing with himself between +eight and ten o'clock last night." + +"Ah, and why doesn't he?" said Bent. "He must have some good reason. I +wonder if his daughter can persuade him?" + +"Isn't that his daughter coming towards us?" inquired Brereton. + +Bent glanced along the road and saw Avice Harborough at a little +distance, hastening in their direction and talking earnestly to a +middle-aged man who was evidently listening with grave concern to what +she said. + +"Yes, that's she," he replied, "and that's Northrop with her--the man +that Mallalieu was playing cards with last night. She's governess to +Northrop's two younger children--I expect she's heard about her father, +and has been to get Northrop to come down with her--he's a magistrate." + +Avice listened with ill-concealed impatience while Bent delivered his +message. He twice repeated Harborough's injunction that she was not to +be afraid, and her impatience increased. + +"I'm not afraid," she answered. "That is, afraid of nothing but my +father's obstinacy! I know him. And I know that if he's said he won't +tell anything about his whereabouts last night, he won't! And if you +want to help him--as you seem to do--you must recognize that." + +"Wouldn't he tell you?" suggested Brereton. + +The girl shook her head. + +"Once or twice a year," she answered, "he goes away for a night, like +that, and I never know--never have known--where he goes. There's some +mystery about it--I know there is. He won't tell--he'll let things go to +the last, and even then he won't tell. You won't be able to help him +that way--there's only one way you can help." + +"What way?" asked Bent. + +"Find the murderer!" exclaimed Avice with a quick flash of her eyes in +Brereton's direction. "My father is as innocent as I am--find the man +who did it and clear him that way. Don't wait for what these police +people do--they'll waste time over my father. Do something! They're all +on the wrong track--let somebody get on the right one!" + +"She's right!" said Northrop, a shrewd-faced little man, who looked +genuinely disturbed. "You know what police are, Mr. Bent--if they get +hold of one notion they're deaf to all others. While they're +concentrating on Harborough, you know, the real man'll be going +free--laughing in his sleeve, very like." + +"But--what are we to do?" asked Bent. "What are we to start on?" + +"Find out about Kitely himself!" exclaimed Avice. "Who knows anything +about him? He may have had enemies--he may have been tracked here. Find +out if there was any motive!" She paused and looked half appealingly, +half-searchingly at Brereton. "I heard you're a barrister--a clever +one," she went on, hesitating a little. "Can't--can't you suggest +anything?" + +"There's something I'll suggest at once," responded Brereton +impulsively. "Whatever else is done, your father's got to be defended. +I'll defend him--to the best of my ability--if you'll let me--and at no +cost to him." + +"Well spoken, sir!" exclaimed Northrop. "That's the style!" + +"But we must keep to legal etiquette," continued Brereton, smiling at +the little man's enthusiasm. "You must go to a solicitor and tell him to +instruct me--it's a mere form. Mr. Bent will take you to his solicitor, +and he'll see me. Then I can appear in due form when they bring your +father before the magistrates. Look here, Bent," he went on, wishing to +stop any expression of gratitude from the girl, "you take Miss +Harborough to your solicitor--if he isn't up, rouse him out. Tell him +what I propose to do, and make an appointment with him for me. Now run +along, both of you--I want to speak to this gentleman a minute." + +He took Northrop's arm, turned him in the direction of the Shawl, walked +him a few paces, and then asked him a direct question. + +"Now, what do you know of this man Harborough?" + +"He's a queer chap--a mystery man, sir," answered Northrop. "A sort of +jack-of-all-trades. He's a better sort--you'd say, to hear him talk, +he'd been a gentleman. You can see what his daughter is--he educated her +well. He's means of some sort--apart from what he earns. Yes, there's +some mystery about that man, sir--but I'll never believe he did this +job. No, sir!" + +"Then we must act on the daughter's suggestion and find out who did," +observed Brereton. "There is as much mystery about that as about +Harborough." + +"All mystery, sir!" agreed Northrop. "It's odd--I came through them +woods on the Shawl there about a quarter to ten last night: I'd been +across to the other side to see a man of mine that's poorly in bed. Now, +I never heard aught, never saw aught--but then, it's true I was +hurrying--I'd made an appointment for a hand at whist with the Mayor at +my house at ten o'clock, and I thought I was late. I never heard a +sound--not so much as a dead twig snap! But then, it would ha' been +before that--at some time." + +"Yes, at some time," agreed Brereton. "Well,--I'll see you in court, no +doubt." + +He turned back, and followed Bent and Avice at a distance, watching them +thoughtfully. + +"At some time?" he mused. "Um! Well, I'm now conversant with the +movements of two inhabitants of Highmarket at a critical period of last +night. Mallalieu didn't go to cards with Northrop until ten o'clock, and +at ten o'clock Cotherstone returned to his house after being absent--one +hour." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ANTECEDENTS + + +During the interval which elapsed between these early morning +proceedings and the bringing up of Harborough before the borough +magistrates in a densely-packed court, Brereton made up his mind as to +what he would do. He would act on Avice Harborough's suggestion, and, +while watching the trend of affairs on behalf of the suspected man, +would find out all he could about the murdered one. At that moment--so +far as Brereton knew--there was only one person in Highmarket who was +likely to know anything about Kitely: that person, of course, was the +queer-looking housekeeper. He accordingly determined, even at that early +stage of the proceedings, to have Miss Pett in the witness-box. + +Harborough, who had been formally arrested and charged by the police +after the conversation at the police-station, was not produced in court +until eleven o'clock, by which time the whole town and neighbourhood +were astir with excitement. Somewhat to Brereton's surprise, the +prosecuting counsel, who had been hastily fetched from Norcaster and +instructed on the way, went more fully into the case than was usual. +Brereton had expected that the police would ask for an adjournment +after the usual evidence of the superficial facts, and of the prisoner's +arrest, had been offered; instead of that, the prosecution brought +forward several witnesses, and amongst them the bank-manager, who said +that when he cashed Kitely's draft for him the previous morning, in +Harborough's presence, he gave Kitely the one half of the money in gold. +The significance of this evidence immediately transpired: a constable +succeeded the bank-manager and testified that after searching the +prisoner after his arrest he found on him over twenty pounds in +sovereigns and half-sovereigns, placed in a wash-leather bag. + +Brereton immediately recognized the impression which this evidence made. +He saw that it weighed with the half-dozen solid and slow-thinking men +who sat on one side or the other of Mallalieu on the magisterial bench; +he felt the atmosphere of suspicion which it engendered in the court. +But he did nothing: he had already learned sufficient from Avice in a +consultation with her and Bent's solicitor to know that it would be very +easy to prove to a jury that it was no unusual thing for Harborough to +carry twenty or thirty pounds in gold on him. Of all these witnesses +Brereton asked scarcely anything--but he made it clear that when +Harborough was met near his cottage at daybreak that morning by two +constables who informed him of what had happened, he expressed great +astonishment, jeered at the notion that he had had anything to do with +the murder, and, without going on to his own door, offered voluntarily +to walk straight to the police-station. + +But when Miss Pett--who had discarded her red and yellow turban, and +appeared in rusty black garments which accentuated the old-ivory tint of +her remarkable countenance--had come into the witness-box and answered a +few common-place questions as to the dead man's movements on the +previous evening, Brereton prepared himself for the episode which he +knew to be important. Amidst a deep silence--something suggesting to +everybody that Mr. Bent's sharp-looking London friend was about to get +at things--he put his first question to Miss Pett. + +"How long have you known Mr. Kitely?" + +"Ever since I engaged with him as his housekeeper," answered Miss Pett. + +"How long since is that?" asked Brereton. + +"Nine to ten years--nearly ten." + +"You have been with him, as housekeeper, nearly ten +years--continuously?" + +"Never left him since I first came to him." + +"Where did you first come to him--where did he live then?" + +"In London." + +"Yes--and where, in London?" + +"83, Acacia Grove, Camberwell." + +"You lived with Mr. Kitely at 83, Acacia Grove, Camberwell, from the +time you became his housekeeper until now--nearly ten years in all. So +we may take it that you knew Mr. Kitely very well indeed?" + +"As well as anybody could know--him," replied Miss Pett, grimly. "He +wasn't the sort that's easy to know." + +"Still, you knew him for ten years. Now," continued Brereton, +concentrating his gaze on Miss Pett's curious features, "who and what +was Mr. Kitely?" + +Miss Pett drummed her black-gloved fingers on the edge of the +witness-box and shook her head. + +"I don't know," she answered. "I never have known." + +"But you must have some idea, some notion--after ten years' +acquaintanceship! Come now. What did he do with himself in London? Had +he no business?" + +"He had business," said Miss Pett. "He was out most of the day at it. I +don't know what it was." + +"Never mentioned it to you?" + +"Never in his life." + +"Did you gain no idea of it? For instance, did it take him out at +regular hours?" + +"No, it didn't. Sometimes he'd go out very early--sometimes late--some +days he never went out at all. And sometimes he'd be out at night--and +away for days together. I never asked him anything, of course." + +"Whatever it was, he retired from it eventually?" + +"Yes--just before we came here." + +"Do you know why Mr. Kitely came here?" + +"Well," said Miss Pett, "he'd always said he wanted a nice little place +in the country, and preferably in the North. He came up this way for a +holiday some months since, and when he got back he said he'd found just +the house and neighbourhood to suit him, so, of course, we removed +here." + +"And you have been here--how long?" + +"Just over three months." + +Brereton let a moment or two elapse before he asked his next question, +which was accompanied by another searching inspection of the witness. + +"Do you know anything about Mr. Kitely's relations?" + +"No!" answered Miss Pett. "And for a simple reason. He always said he +had none." + +"He was never visited by anybody claiming to be a relation?" + +"Not during the ten years I knew him." + +"Do you think he had property--money--to leave to anybody?" + +Miss Pett began to toy with the fur boa which depended from her thin +neck. + +"Well--yes, he said he had," she replied hesitatingly. + +"Did you ever hear him say what would become of it at his death?" + +Miss Pett looked round the court and smiled a little. + +"Well," she answered, still more hesitatingly, "he--he always said that +as he'd no relations of his own, he'd leave it to me." + +Brereton leaned a little closer across the table towards the witness-box +and dropped his voice. + +"Do you know if Mr. Kitely ever made a will?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied Miss Pett. "He did." + +"When?" + +"Just before we left London." + +"Do you know the contents of that will?" + +"No!" said Miss Pett. "I do not--so there!" + +"Did you witness it?" + +"No, I didn't." + +"Do you know where it is?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Where is it?" + +"My nephew has it," replied Miss Pett. "He's a solicitor, and he made +it." + +"What is your nephew's name and address?" asked Brereton. + +"Mr. Christopher Pett, 23B Cursitor Street," answered Miss Pett, readily +enough. + +"Have you let him know of Mr. Kitely's death?" + +"Yes. I sent him a telegram first thing this morning." + +"Asking him to bring the will?" + +"No, I did not!" exclaimed Miss Pett, indignantly. "I never mentioned +the will. Mr. Kitely was very fond of my nephew--he considered him a +very clever young man." + +"We shall, no doubt, have the pleasure of seeing your nephew," remarked +Brereton. "Well, now, I want to ask you a question or two about +yourself. What had you been before you became housekeeper to Mr. +Kitely?" + +"Housekeeper to another gentleman!" replied Miss Pett, acidly. + +"Who was he?" + +"Well, if you want to know, he was a Major Stilman, a retired +officer--though what that has----" + +"Where did Major Stilman live?" asked Brereton. + +"He lived at Kandahar Cottage, Woking," replied Miss Pett, who was now +showing signs of rising anger. "But----" + +"Answer my questions, if you please, and don't make remarks," said +Brereton. "Is Major Stilman alive?" + +"No, he isn't--he's dead this ten years," answered Miss Pett. "And if +you're going to ask me any more questions about who and what I am, young +man, I'll save you the trouble. I was with Major Stilman a many years, +and before that I was store-keeper at one London hotel, and linen-keeper +at another, and before that I lived at home with my father, who was a +respectable farmer in Sussex. And what all this has to do with what +we're here for, I should like----" + +"Just give me the names of the two hotels you were at in London, will +you?" asked Brereton. + +"One was the _Royal Belvedere_ in Bayswater, and the other the _Mervyn +Crescent_ in Kensington," replied Miss Pett. "Highly respectable, both +of 'em." + +"And you come originally from--where in Sussex?" + +"Oakbarrow Farm, near Horsham. Do you want to know any----" + +"I shan't trouble you much longer," said Brereton suavely. "But you +might just tell me this--has Mr. Kitely ever had any visitors since he +came to Highmarket?" + +"Only one," answered Miss Pett. "And it was my nephew, who came up for a +week-end to see him on business. Of course, I don't know what the +business was. Mr. Kitely had property in London; house-property, +and----" + +"And your nephew, as his solicitor, no doubt came to see him about it," +interrupted Brereton. "Thank you, Miss Pett--I don't want to trouble you +any more." + +He sat down as the housekeeper left the witness-box--confident that he +had succeeded in introducing a new atmosphere into the case. Already +there were whisperings going on in the crowded court; he felt that these +country folk, always quick to form suspicions, were beginning to ask +themselves if there was not something dark and sinister behind the +mystery of Kitely's murder, and he was callous enough--from a purely +professional standpoint--to care nothing if they began to form ideas +about Miss Pett. For Brereton knew that nothing is so useful in the +breaking-down of one prejudice as to set up another, and his great +object just then was to divert primary prejudice away from his client. +Nevertheless, nothing, he knew well, could at that stage prevent +Harborough's ultimate committal--unless Harborough himself chose to +prove the _alibi_ of which he had boasted. But Harborough refused to do +anything towards that, and when the case had been adjourned for a week, +and the prisoner removed to a cell pending his removal to Norcaster +gaol, a visit from Brereton and Avice in company failed to move him. + +"It's no good, my girl; it's no good, sir," he said, when both had +pleaded with him to speak. "I'm determined! I shall not say where I was +last night." + +"Tell me--in secret--and then leave me to make use of the knowledge, +also in secret," urged Brereton. + +"No, sir--once for all, no!" answered Harborough. "There's no necessity. +I may be kept locked up for a bit, but the truth about this matter'll +come out before ever I'm brought to trial--or ought to be. Leave me +alone--I'm all right. All that bothers me now, my girl, is--you!" + +"Then don't bother," said Avice. "I'm going to stay with Mrs. Northrop. +They've insisted on it." + +Brereton was going out of the cell, leaving father and daughter +together, when he suddenly turned back. + +"You're a man of sense, Harborough," he said. "Come, now--have you got +anything to suggest as to how you can be helped?" + +Harborough smiled and gave his counsel a knowing look. + +"Aye, sir!" he answered. "The best suggestion you could get. If you want +to find out who killed Kitely--go back! Go back, sir--go inch by inch, +through Kitely's life!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE HOLE IN THE THATCH + + +Bent, taking his guest home to dinner after the police-court +proceedings, showed a strong and encouraging curiosity. He, in common +with all the rest of the townsfolk who had contrived to squeeze into the +old court-house, had been immensely interested in Brereton's examination +of Miss Pett. Now he wanted to know what it meant, what it signified, +what was its true relation to the case? + +"You don't mean to say that you suspect that queer old atomy of a +woman!" he exclaimed incredulously as they sat down to Bent's bachelor +table. "And yet--you really looked as if you did--and contrived to throw +something very like it into your voice, too! Man, alive!--half the +Highmarket wiseacres'll be sitting down to their roast mutton at this +minute in the full belief that Miss Pett strangled her master!" + +"Well, and why not?" asked Brereton, coolly. "Surely, if you face facts, +there's just as much reason to suspect Miss Pett as there is to suspect +Harborough. They're both as innocent as you are, in all probability. +Granted there's some nasty evidence against Harborough, there's also the +presumption--founded on words from her own lips--that Miss Pett expects +to benefit by this old man's death. She's a strong and wiry woman, and +you tell me Kitely was getting somewhat enfeebled--she might have killed +him, you know. Murders, my dear fellow, are committed by the most +unlikely people, and for curious reasons: they have been committed by +quite respectable females--like Miss Pett--for nothing but a mere whim." + +"Do you really suspect her?" demanded Bent. "That's what I want to +know." + +"That's what I shan't tell you," replied Brereton, with a good-humoured +laugh. "All I shall tell you is that I believe this murder to be either +an exceedingly simple affair, or a very intricate affair. Wait a +little--wait, for instance, until Mr. Christopher Pett arrives with that +will. Then we shall advance a considerable stage." + +"I'm sorry for Avice Harborough, anyway," remarked Bent, "and it's +utterly beyond me to imagine why her father can't say where he was last +night. I suppose there'd be an end of the case if he'd prove where he +was, eh?" + +"He'd have to account for every minute between nine and ten o'clock," +answered Brereton. "It would be no good, for instance, if we proved to a +jury that from say ten o'clock until five o'clock next morning, +Harborough was at--shall we say your county town, Norcaster. You may say +it would take Harborough an hour to get from here to Norcaster, and an +hour to return, and that would account for his whereabouts between nine +and ten last night, and between five and six this morning. That wouldn't +do--because, according to the evidence, Kitely left his house just +before nine o'clock, and he may have been killed immediately. Supposing +Harborough killed him at nine o'clock precisely, Harborough would even +then be able to arrive in Norcaster by ten. What we want to know, in +order to fully establish Harborough's innocence is--where was he, what +was he doing, from the moment he left his cottage last night until say a +quarter past nine, the latest moment at which, according to what the +doctor said, the murder could have been committed?" + +"Off on one of his poaching expeditions, I suppose," said Bent. + +"No--that's not at all likely," answered Brereton. "There's some very +strange mystery about that man, and I'll have to get at the truth of +it--in spite of his determined reticence! Bent!--I'm going to see this +thing right through! The Norcaster Assizes will be on next month, and of +course Harborough will be brought up then. I shall stop in this +neighbourhood and work out the case--it'll do me a lot of good in all +sorts of ways--experience--work--the interest in it--and the _kudos_ I +shall win if I get my man off--as I will! So I shall unashamedly ask you +to give me house-room for that time." + +"Of course," replied Bent. "The house is yours--only too glad, old chap. +But what a queer case it is! I'd give something, you know, to know what +you really think about it." + +"I've not yet settled in my own mind what I do think about it," said +Brereton. "But I'll suggest a few things to you which you can think over +at your leisure. What motive could Harborough have had for killing +Kitely? There's abundant testimony in the town--from his daughter, from +neighbours, from tradesmen--that Harborough was never short of +money--he's always had more money than most men in his position are +supposed to have. Do you think it likely that he'd have killed Kitely +for thirty pounds? Again--does anybody of sense believe that a man of +Harborough's evident ability would have murdered his victim so clumsily +as to leave a direct clue behind him? Now turn to another side. Is it +not evident that if Miss Pett wanted to murder Kitely she'd excellent +chances of not only doing so, but of directing suspicion to another +person? She knew her master's habits--she knew the surroundings--she +knew where Harborough kept that cord--she is the sort of person who +could steal about as quietly as a cat. If--as may be established by the +will which her nephew has, and of which, in spite of all she affirmed, +or, rather, swore, she may have accurate knowledge--she benefits by +Kitely's death, is there not motive there? Clearly, Miss Pett is to be +suspected!" + +"Do you mean to tell me that she'd kill old Kitely just to get +possession of the bit he had to leave?" asked Bent incredulously. "Come, +now,--that's a stiff proposition." + +"Not to me," replied Brereton. "I've known of a case in which a young +wife carefully murdered an old husband because she was so eager to get +out of the dull life she led with him that she couldn't wait a year or +two for his natural decease; I've heard of a case in which an elderly +woman poisoned her twin-sister, so that she could inherit her share of +an estate and go to live in style at Brighton. I don't want to do Miss +Pett any injustice, but I say that there are grounds for suspecting +her--and they may be widened." + +"Then it comes to this," said Bent. "There are two people under +suspicion: Harborough's suspected by the police--Miss Pett's suspected +by you. And it may be, and probably is, the truth that both are entirely +innocent. In that case, who's the guilty person?" + +"Ah, who indeed?" assented Brereton, half carelessly. "That is a +question. But my duty is to prove that my client is not guilty. And as +you're going to attend to your business this afternoon, I'll do a little +attending to mine by thinking things over." + +When Bent had gone away to the town, Brereton lighted a cigar, stretched +himself in an easy chair in front of a warm fire in his host's +smoking-room, and tried to think clearly. He had said to Bent all that +was in his mind about Harborough and about Miss Pett--but he had said +nothing, had been determined to say nothing, about a curious thought, an +unformed, vague suspicion which was there. It was that as yet formless +suspicion which occupied all his mental powers now--he put Harborough +and Miss Pett clean away from him. + +And as he sat there, he asked himself first of all--why had this curious +doubt about two apparently highly-respectable men of this little, +out-of-the-world town come into his mind? He traced it back to its first +source--Cotherstone. Brereton was a close observer of men; it was his +natural instinct to observe, and he was always giving it a further +training and development. He had felt certain as he sat at supper with +him, the night before, that Cotherstone had something in his thoughts +which was not of his guests, his daughter, or himself. His whole +behaviour suggested pre-occupation, occasional absent-mindedness: once +or twice he obviously did not hear the remarks which were addressed to +him. He had certainly betrayed some curious sort of confusion when +Kitely's name was mentioned. And he had manifested great astonishment, +been much upset, when Garthwaite came in with the news of Kitely's +death. + +Now here came in what Brereton felt to be the all-important, the +critical point of this, his first attempt to think things out. He was +not at all sure that Cotherstone's astonishment on hearing Garthwaite's +announcement was not feigned, was not a piece of pure acting. Why? He +smiled cynically as he answered his own question. The answer +was--_Because when Cotherstone, Garthwaite, Bent, and Brereton set out +from Cotherstone's house to look at the dead man's body, Cotherstone led +the way straight to it_. + +How did Cotherstone know exactly where, in that half-mile of wooded +hill-side, the murder had been committed of which he had only heard five +minutes before? Yet, he led them all to within a few yards of the dead +man, until he suddenly checked himself, thrust the lantern into +Garthwaite's hands and said that of course he didn't know where the body +was! Now might not that really mean, when fully analyzed, that even if +Cotherstone did not kill Kitely himself during the full hour in which +he was absent from his house he knew that Kitely had been killed, and +where--and possibly by whom? + +Anyway, here were certain facts--and they had to be reckoned with. +Kitely was murdered about a quarter-past nine o'clock. Cotherstone was +out of his house from ten minutes to nine o'clock until five minutes to +ten. He was clearly excited when he returned: he was more excited when +he went with the rest of them up the wood. Was it not probable that +under the stress of that excitement he forgot his presence of mind, and +mechanically went straight to the all-important spot? + +So much for that. But there was something more. Mallalieu was +Cotherstone's partner. Mallalieu went to Northrop's house to play cards +at ten o'clock. It might be well to find out, quietly, what Mallalieu +was doing with himself up to ten o'clock. But the main thing was--what +was Cotherstone doing during that hour of absence? And--had Cotherstone +any reason--of his own, or shared with his partner--for wishing to get +rid of Kitely? + +Brereton sat thinking all these things over until he had finished his +cigar; he then left Bent's house and strolled up into the woods of the +Shawl. He wanted to have a quiet look round the scene of the murder. He +had not been up there since the previous evening; it now occurred to him +that it would be well to see how the place looked by daylight. There was +no difficulty about finding the exact spot, even in those close coverts +of fir and pine; a thin line of inquisitive sightseers was threading its +way up the Shawl in front of him, each of its units agog to see the +place where a fellow-being had been done to death. + +But no one could get at the precise scene of the murder. The police had +roped a portion of the coppice off from the rest, and two or three +constables in uniform were acting as guards over this enclosed space, +while a couple of men in plain clothes, whom Brereton by that time knew +to be detectives from Norcaster, were inside it, evidently searching the +ground with great care. Round and about the fenced-in portion stood +townsfolk, young and old, talking, speculating, keenly alive to the +goings-on, hoping that the searchers would find something just then, so +that they themselves could carry some sensational news back to the town +and their own comfortable tea-tables. Most of them had been in or +outside the Court House that morning and recognized Brereton and made +way for him as he advanced to the ropes. One of the detectives +recognized him, too, and invited him to step inside. + +"Found anything?" asked Brereton, who was secretly wondering why the +police should be so foolish as to waste time in a search which was +almost certain to be non-productive. + +"No, sir--we've been chiefly making out for certain where the actual +murder took place before the dead man was dragged behind that rock," +answered the detective. "As far as we can reckon from the disturbance of +these pine needles, the murderer must have sprung on Kitely from behind +that clump of gorse--there where it's grown to such a height--and then +dragged him here, away from that bit of a path. No--we've found +nothing. But I suppose you've heard of the find at Harborough's +cottage?" + +"No!" exclaimed Brereton, startled out of his habitual composure. "What +find?" + +"Some of our people made a search there as soon as the police-court +proceedings were over," replied the detective. "It was the first chance +they'd had of doing anything systematically. They found the bank-notes +which Kitely got at the Bank yesterday evening, and a quantity of +letters and papers that we presume had been in that empty pocket-book. +They were all hidden in a hole in the thatch of Harborough's shed." + +"Where are they?" asked Brereton. + +"Down at the police-station--the superintendent has them," answered the +detective. "He'd show you them, sir, if you care to go down." + +Brereton went off to the police-station at once and was shown into the +superintendent's office without delay. That official immediately drew +open a drawer of his desk and produced a packet folded in brown paper. + +"I suppose this is what you want to see, Mr. Brereton," he said. "I +guess you've heard about the discovery? Shoved away in a rat-hole in the +thatch of Harborough's shed these were, sir--upon my honour, I don't +know what to make of it! You'd have thought that a man of Harborough's +sense and cleverness would never have put these things there, where they +were certain to be found." + +"I don't believe Harborough did put them there," said Brereton. "But +what are they?" + +The superintendent motioned his visitor to sit by him and then opened +the papers out on his desk. + +"Not so much," he answered. "Three five-pound notes--I've proved that +they're those which poor Kitely got at the bank yesterday. A number of +letters--chiefly about old books, antiquarian matters, and so +forth--some scraps of newspaper cuttings, of the same nature. And this +bit of a memorandum book, that fits that empty pocket-book we found, +with pencil entries in it--naught of any importance. Look 'em over, if +you like, Mr. Brereton. I make nothing out of 'em." + +Brereton made nothing out either, at first glance. The papers were just +what the superintendent described them to be, and he went rapidly +through them without finding anything particularly worthy of notice. But +to the little memorandum book he gave more attention, especially to the +recent entries. And one of these, made within the last three months, +struck him as soon as he looked at it, insignificant as it seemed to be. +It was only of one line, and the one line was only of a few initials, an +abbreviation or two, and a date: _M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81_. And why +this apparently innocent entry struck Brereton was because he was still +thinking as an under-current to all this, of Mallalieu and +Cotherstone--and M. and C. were certainly the initials of those not too +common names. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHRISTOPHER PETT + + +The two men sat staring silently at the paper-strewn desk for several +moments; each occupied with his own thoughts. At last the superintendent +began to put the several exhibits together, and he turned to Brereton +with a gesture which suggested a certain amount of mental impatience. + +"There's one thing in all this that I can't understand, sir," he said. +"And it's this--it's very evident that whoever killed Kitely wanted the +papers that Kitely carried in that pocket-book. Why did he take 'em out +of the pocket-book and throw the pocket-book away? I don't know how that +strikes you--but it licks me, altogether!" + +"Yes," agreed Brereton, "it's puzzling--certainly. You'd think that the +murderer would have carried off the pocket-book, there and then. That he +took the papers from it, threw the pocket-book itself away, and then +placed the papers--or some of them--where your people have just found +them--in Harborough's shed--seems to me to argue something which is even +more puzzling. I daresay you see what I mean?" + +"Can't say that I do, sir," answered the superintendent. "I haven't had +much experience in this sort of work, you know, Mr. Brereton--it's a +good bit off our usual line. What do you mean, then?" + +"Why," replied Brereton, laughing a little, "I mean this--it looks as if +the murderer had taken his time about his proceedings!--after Kitely was +killed. The pocket-book, as you know, was picked up close to the body. +It was empty--as we all saw. Now what can we infer from that but that +the murderer actually stopped by his victim to examine the papers? And +in that case he must have had a light. He may have carried an electric +torch. Let's try and reconstruct the affair. We'll suppose that the +murderer, whoever he was, was so anxious to find some paper that he +wanted, and that he believed Kitely to have on him, that he immediately +examined the contents of the pocket-book. He turned on his electric +torch and took all the papers out of the pocket-book, laying the +pocket-book aside. He was looking through the papers when he heard a +sound in the neighbouring coppices or bushes. He immediately turned off +his light, made off with the papers, and left the empty case--possibly +completely forgetting its existence for the moment. How does that strike +you--as a theory?" + +"Very good, sir," replied the superintendent. "Very good--but it is only +a theory, you know, Mr. Brereton." + +Brereton rose, with another laugh. + +"Just so," he said. "But suppose you try to reduce it to practice? In +this way--you no doubt have tradesmen in this town who deal in such +things as electric torches. Find out--in absolute secrecy--if any of +them have sold electric torches of late to any one in the town, and if +so, to whom. For I'm certain of this--that pocket-book and its contents +was examined on the spot, and that examination could only have been made +with a light, and an electric torch would be the handiest means of +providing that light. And so--so you see how even a little clue like +that might help, eh?" + +"I'll see to it," assented the superintendent. "Well, it's all very +queer, sir, and I'm getting more than ever convinced that we've laid +hands on the wrong man. And yet--what could, and what can we do?" + +"Oh, nothing, at present," replied Brereton. "Let matters develop. +They're only beginning." + +He went away then, not to think about the last subject of conversation, +but to take out his own pocket-book as soon as he was clear of the +police-station, and to write down that entry which he had seen in +Kitely's memoranda:--_M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81_. And again he was struck +by the fact that the initials were those of Mallalieu and Cotherstone, +and again he wondered what they meant. They might have no reference +whatever to the Mayor and his partner--but under the circumstances it +was at any rate a curious coincidence, and he had an overwhelming +intuition that something lay behind that entry. But--what? + +That evening, as Bent and his guest were lighting their cigars after +dinner, Bent's parlour-maid came into the smoking-room with a card. Bent +glanced from it to Brereton with a look of surprise. + +"Mr. Christopher Pett!" he exclaimed. "What on earth does he want me +for? Bring Mr. Pett in here, anyway," he continued, turning to the +parlour-maid. "Is he alone?--or is Miss Pett with him?" + +"The police-superintendent's with him, sir," answered the girl. "They +said--could they see you and Mr. Brereton for half an hour, on +business?" + +"Bring them both in, then," said Bent. He looked at Brereton again, with +more interrogation. "Fresh stuff, eh?" he went on. "Mr. Christopher +Pett's the old dragon's nephew, I suppose. But what can he want +with--oh, well, I guess he wants you--I'm the audience." + +Brereton made no reply. He was watching the door. And through it +presently came a figure and face which he at once recognized as those of +an undersized, common-looking, sly-faced little man whom he had often +seen about the Law Courts in London, and had taken for a solicitor's +clerk. He looked just as common and sly as ever as he sidled into the +smoking-room, removing his silk hat with one hand and depositing a brief +bag on the table with the other, and he favoured Brereton with a sickly +grin of recognition after he had made a bow to the master of the house. +That done he rubbed together two long and very thin white hands and +smiled at Brereton once more. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Brereton," he said in a thin, wheedling voice. "I've +no doubt you've seen me before, sir?--I've seen you often--round about +the Courts, Mr. Brereton--though I've never had the pleasure of putting +business in your way--as yet, Mr. Brereton, as yet, sir! But----" + +Brereton, to whom Bent had transferred Mr. Christopher Pett's card, +glanced again at it, and from it to its owner. + +"I see your address is that of Messrs. Popham & Pilboody in Cursitor +Street, Mr. Pett," he observed frigidly. "Any connection with that +well-known firm?" + +Mr. Pett rubbed his hands, and taking the chair which Bent silently +indicated, sat down and pulled his trousers up about a pair of bony +knees. He smiled widely, showing a set of curiously shaped teeth. + +"Mr. Popham, sir," he answered softly, "has always been my very good +friend. I entered Mr. Popham's service, sir, at an early age. Mr. +Popham, sir, acted very handsomely by me. He gave me my articles, sir. +And when I was admitted--two years ago, Mr. Brereton--Messrs. Popham & +Pilboody gave me--very generously--an office in their suite, so that I +could have my name up, and do a bit on my own, sir. Oh yes!--I'm +connected--intimately--with that famous firm, Mr. Brereton!" + +There was an assurance about Mr. Pett, a cocksureness of demeanour, a +cheerful confidence in himself, which made Brereton long to kick him; +but he restrained his feelings and said coldly that he supposed Mr. Pett +wished to speak to Mr. Bent and himself on business. + +"Not on my own business, sir," replied Pett, laying his queer-looking +white fingers on his brief bag. "On the business of my esteemed feminine +relative, Miss Pett. I am informed, Mr. Brereton--no offence, sir, oh, +none whatever!--that you put some--no doubt necessary--questions to +Miss Pett at the court this morning which had the effect of prejudicing +her in the eyes--or shall we say ears?--of those who were present. Miss +Pett accordingly desires that I, as her legal representative, should +lose no time in putting before you the true state of the case as regards +her relations with Kitely, deceased, and I accordingly, sir, in the +presence of our friend, the superintendent, whom I have already spoken +to outside, desire to tell you what the truth is. Informally, you +understand, Mr. Brereton, informally!" + +"Just as you please," answered Brereton. "All this is, as you say, +informal." + +"Quite informal, sir," agreed Pett, who gained in cheerfulness with +every word. "Oh, absolutely so. Between ourselves, of course. But it'll +be all the pleasanter if you know. My aunt, Miss Pett, naturally does +not wish, Mr. Brereton, that any person--hereabouts or elsewhere--should +entertain such suspicions of her as you seemed--I speak, sir, from +information furnished--to suggest, in your examination of her today. And +so, sir, I wish to tell you this. I acted as legal adviser to the late +Mr. Kitely. I made his will. I have that will in this bag. And--to put +matters in a nutshell, Mr. Brereton--there is not a living soul in this +world who knows the contents of that will but--your humble and +obedient!" + +"Do you propose to communicate the contents of the late Mr. Kitely's +will to us?" asked Brereton, drily. + +"I do, sir," replied Mr. Pett. "And for this reason. My relative--Miss +Pett--does not know what Mr. Kitely's profession had been, nor what Mr. +Kitely died possessed of. She does not know--anything! And she will not +know until I read this will to her after I have communicated the gist of +it to you. And I will do that in a few words. The late Mr. Kitely, sir, +was an ex-member of the detective police force. By dint of economy and +thrift he had got together a nice little property--house-property, in +London--Brixton, to be exact. It is worth about one hundred and fifty +pounds per annum. And--to cut matters short--he has left it absolutely +to Miss Pett. I myself, Mr. Brereton, am sole executor. If you desire to +see the will, sir, you, or Mr. Bent, or the superintendent, are at +liberty to inspect it." + +Brereton waved the proffered document aside and got up from his chair. + +"No, thank you, Mr. Pett," he said. "I've no desire to see Mr. Kitely's +will. I quite accept all that you say about it. You, as a lawyer, know +very well that whatever I asked Miss Pett this morning was asked in the +interests of my client. No--you can put the will away as far as I'm +concerned. You've assured me that Miss Pett is as yet in ignorance of +its contents, and--I take your word. I think, however, that Miss Pett +won't be exactly surprised." + +"Oh, I daresay my aunt has a pretty good idea, Mr. Brereton," agreed +Pett, who having offered the will to both Bent and the superintendent, +only to meet with a polite refusal from each, now put it back in his +bag. "We all of us have some little idea which quarter the wind's in, +you know, sir, in these cases. Of course, Kitely, deceased, had no +relatives, Mr. Brereton: in fact, so far as Miss Pett and self are +aware, beyond ourselves, he'd no friends." + +"I was going to ask you a somewhat pertinent question, Mr. Pett," said +Brereton. "Quite an informal one, you know. Do you think he had any +enemies?" + +Pett put his long white fingers together and inclined his head to one +side. His slit of a mouth opened slightly, and his queer teeth showed +themselves in a sly grin. + +"Just so!" he said. "Of course, I take your meaning, Mr. Brereton. +Naturally, you'd think that a man of his profession would make enemies. +No doubt there must be a good many persons who'd have been glad--had he +still been alive--to have had their knives into him. Oh, yes! +But--unfortunately, I don't know of 'em, sir." + +"Never heard him speak of anybody who was likely to cherish revenge, +eh?" asked Brereton. + +"Never, sir! Kitely, deceased," remarked Pett, meditatively, "was not +given to talking of his professional achievements. I happen to know that +he was concerned in some important cases in his time--but he rarely, if +ever, mentioned them to me. In fact, I may say, gentlemen," he continued +in a palpable burst of confidence, "I may say, between ourselves, that +I'd had the honour of Mr. K.'s acquaintance for some time before ever I +knew what his line of business had been! Fact!" + +"A close man, eh?" asked Brereton. + +"One of the very closest," replied Pett. "Yes, you may say that, sir." + +"Not likely to let things out, I suppose?" continued Brereton. + +"Not he! He was a regular old steel trap, Kitely was--shut tight!" said +Pett. + +"And--I suppose you've no theory, no idea of your own about his murder?" +asked Brereton, who was watching the little man closely. "Have you +formed any ideas or theories?" + +Pett half-closed his eyes as he turned them on his questioner. + +"Too early!" he replied, with a shake of his head. "Much too early. I +shall--in due course. Meantime, there's another little commission I have +to discharge, and I may as well do it at once. There are two or three +trifling bequests in this will, gentlemen--one of 'em's to you, Mr. +Bent. It wasn't in the original will--that was made before Kitely came +to these parts. It's in a codicil--made when I came down here a few +weeks ago, on the only visit I ever paid to the old gentleman. He +desired, in case of his death, to leave you something--said you'd been +very friendly to him." + +"Very good of him, I'm sure," said Bent with a glance of surprise. "I'm +rather astonished to hear of it, though." + +"Oh, it's nothing much," remarked Pett, with a laugh as he drew from the +brief bag what looked like an old quarto account book, fastened by a +brass clasp. "It's a scrap-book that the old man kept--a sort of album +in which he pasted up all sorts of odds and ends. He thought you'd find +'em interesting. And knowing of this bequest, sir, I thought I'd bring +the book down. You might just give me a formal receipt for its delivery, +Mr. Bent." + +Bent took his curious legacy and led Mr. Pett away to a writing-desk to +dictate a former of receipt. And as they turned away, the superintendent +signed to Brereton to step into a corner of the room with him. + +"You know what you said about that electric torch notion this afternoon, +sir?" he whispered. "Well, after you left me, I just made an +inquiry--absolutely secret, you know--myself. I went to Rellit, the +ironmonger--I knew that if such things had ever come into the town, it +'ud be through him, for he's the only man that's at all up-to-date. +And--I heard more than I expected to hear!" + +"What?" asked Brereton. + +"I think there may be something in what you said," answered the +superintendent. "But, listen here--Rellit says he'd swear a solemn oath +that nobody but himself ever sold an electric torch in Highmarket. And +he's only sold to three persons--to the Vicar's son; to Mr. Mallalieu; +and to Jack Harborough!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PARENTAL ANXIETY + + +For a moment Brereton and the superintendent looked at each other in +silence. Then Bent got up from his desk at the other side of the room, +and he and the little solicitor came towards them. + +"Keep that to yourself, then," muttered Brereton. "We'll talk of it +later. It may be of importance." + +"Well, there's this much to bear in mind," whispered the superintendent, +drawing back a little with an eye on the others. "Nothing of that sort +was found on your client! And he'd been out all night. That's worth +considering--from his standpoint, Mr. Brereton." + +Brereton nodded his assent and turned away with another warning glance. +And presently Pett and the superintendent went off, and Bent dropped +into his easy chair with a laugh. + +"Queer sort of unexpected legacy!" he said. "I wonder if the old man +really thought I should be interested in his scrap-book?" + +"There may be a great deal that's interesting in it," remarked Brereton, +with a glance at the book, which Bent had laid aside on top of a +book-case. "Take care of it. Well, what did you think of Mr. +Christopher Pett?" + +"Cool hand, I should say," answered Bent. "But--what did you think of +him?" + +"Oh, I've met Mr. Christopher Pett's sort before," said Brereton, drily. +"The Dodson & Fogg type of legal practitioner is by no means extinct. I +should much like to know a good deal more about his various dealings +with Kitely. We shall see and hear more about them, however--later on. +For the present there are--other matters." + +He changed the subject then--to something utterly apart from the murder +and its mystery. For the one topic which filled his own mind was also +the very one which he could not discuss with Bent. Had Cotherstone, had +Mallalieu anything to do with Kitely's death? That question was +beginning to engross all his attention: he thought more about it than +about his schemes for a successful defence of Harborough, well knowing +that his best way of proving Harborough's innocence lay in establishing +another man's guilt. + +"One would give a good deal," he said to himself, as he went to bed that +night, "if one could get a moment's look into Cotherstone's mind--or +into Mallalieu's either! For I'll swear that these two know +something--possibly congratulating themselves that it will never be +known to anybody else!" + +If Brereton could have looked into the minds of either of the partners +at this particular juncture he would have found much opportunity for +thought and reflection, of a curious nature. For both were keeping a +double watch--on the course of events on one hand; on each other, on the +other hand. They watched the police-court proceedings against Harborough +and saw, with infinite relief, that nothing transpired which seemed +inimical to themselves. They watched the proceedings at the inquest held +on Kitely; they, too, yielded nothing that could attract attention in +the way they dreaded. When several days had gone by and the police +investigations seemed to have settled down into a concentrated purpose +against the suspected man, both Mallalieu and Cotherstone believed +themselves safe from discovery--their joint secret appeared to be well +buried with the old detective. But the secret was keenly and vividly +alive in their own hearts, and when Mallalieu faced the truth he knew +that he suspected Cotherstone, and when Cotherstone put things squarely +to himself he knew that he suspected Mallalieu. And the two men got to +eyeing each other furtively, and to addressing each other curtly, and +when they happened to be alone there was a heavy atmosphere of mutual +dislike and suspicion between them. + +It was a strange psychological fact that though these men had been +partners for a period covering the most important part of their lives, +they had next to nothing in common. They were excellent partners in +business matters; Mallalieu knew Cotherstone, and Cotherstone knew +Mallalieu in all things relating to the making of money. But in taste, +temperament, character, understanding, they were as far apart as the +poles. This aloofness when tested further by the recent discomposing +events manifested itself in a disinclination to confidence. Mallalieu, +whatever he thought, knew very well that he would never say what he +thought to Cotherstone; Cotherstone knew precisely the same thing with +regard to Mallalieu. But this silence bred irritation, and as the days +went by the irritation became more than Cotherstone could bear. He was a +highly-strung, nervous man, quick to feel and to appreciate, and the +averted looks and monosyllabic remarks and replies of a man into whose +company he could not avoid being thrown began to sting him to something +like madness. And one day, left alone in the office with Mallalieu when +Stoner the clerk had gone to get his dinner, the irritation became +unbearable, and he turned on his partner in a sudden white heat of +ungovernable and impotent anger. + +"Hang you!" he hissed between his set teeth. "I believe you think I did +that job! And if you do, blast you, why don't you say so, and be done +with it?" + +Mallalieu, who was standing on the hearth, warming his broad back at the +fire, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets and looked +half-sneeringly at his partner out of his screwed-up eyes. + +"I should advise you to keep yourself cool," he said with affected +quietness. "There's more than me'll think a good deal if you chance to +let yourself out like that." + +"You do think it!" reiterated Cotherstone passionately. "Damn it, d'ye +think I haven't noticed it? Always looking at me as if--as if----" + +"Now then, keep yourself calm," interrupted Mallalieu. "I can look at +you or at any other, in any way I like, can't I? There's no need to +distress yourself--I shan't give aught away. If you took it in your head +to settle matters--as they were settled--well, I shan't say a word. That +is unless--you understand?" + +"Understand what?" screamed Cotherstone. + +"Unless I'm obliged to," answered Mallalieu. "I should have to make it +clear that I'd naught to do with that particular matter, d'ye see? Every +man for himself's a sound principle. But--I see no need. I don't believe +there'll be any need. And it doesn't matter the value of that pen that's +shaking so in your hand to me if an innocent man suffers--if he's +innocent o' that, he's guilty o' something else. You're safe with me." + +Cotherstone flung the pen on the floor and stamped on it. And Mallalieu +laughed cynically and walked slowly across to the door. + +"You're a fool, Cotherstone," he said. "Go on a bit more like that, and +you'll let it all out to somebody 'at 'll not keep secrets as I can. +Cool yourself, man, cool yourself!" + +"Hang you!" shouted Cotherstone. "Mind I don't let something out about +you! Where were you that night, I should like to know? Or, rather, I do +know! You're no safer than I am! And if I told what I do know----" + +Mallalieu, with his hand on the latch, turned and looked his partner in +the face--without furtiveness, for once. + +"And if you told aught that you do, or fancy you know," he said quietly, +"there'd be ruin in your home, you soft fool! I thought you wanted +things kept quiet for your lass's sake? Pshaw!--you're taking leave o' +your senses!" + +He walked out at that, and Cotherstone, shaking with anger, relapsed +into a chair and cursed his fate. And after a time he recovered himself +and began to think, and his thoughts turned instinctively to Lettie. + +Mallalieu was right--of course, he was right! Anything that he, +Cotherstone, could say or do in the way of bringing up the things that +must be suppressed would ruin Lettie's chances. So, at any rate, it +seemed to him. For Cotherstone's mind was essentially a worldly one, and +it was beyond him to believe that an ambitious young man like Windle +Bent would care to ally himself with the daughter of an ex-convict. Bent +would have the best of excuses for breaking off all relations with the +Cotherstone family if the unpleasant truth came out. No!--whatever else +he did, he must keep his secret safe until Bent and Lettie were safely +married. That once accomplished, Cotherstone cared little about the +future: Bent could not go back on his wife. And so Cotherstone +endeavoured to calm himself, so that he could scheme and plot, and +before night came he paid a visit to his doctor, and when he went home +that evening, he had his plans laid. + +Bent was with Lettie when Cotherstone got home, and Cotherstone +presently got the two of them into a little snuggery which he kept +sacred to himself as a rule. He sat down in his easy chair, and signed +to them to sit near him. + +"I'm glad I found you together," he said. "There's something I want to +say. There's no call for you to be frightened, Lettie--but what I've got +to say is serious. And I'll put it straight--Bent'll understand. Now, +you'd arranged to get married next spring--six months hence. I want you +to change your minds, and to let it be as soon as you can." + +He looked with a certain eager wistfulness at Lettie, expecting to see +her start with surprise. But fond as he was of her, Cotherstone had so +far failed to grasp the later developments of his daughter's character. +Lettie Cotherstone was not the sort of young woman who allows herself to +be surprised by anything. She was remarkably level-headed, cool of +thought, well able to take care of herself in every way, and fully alive +to the possibilities of her union with the rising young manufacturer. +And instead of showing any astonishment, she quietly asked her father +what he meant. + +"I'll tell you," answered Cotherstone, greatly relieved to find that +both seemed inclined to talk matters quietly over. "It's this--I've not +been feeling as well as I ought to feel, lately. The fact is, Bent, I've +done too much in my time. A man can work too hard, you know--and it +tells on him in the end. So the doctor says, anyhow." + +"The doctor!" exclaimed Lettie. "You haven't been to him?" + +"Seen him this afternoon," replied Cotherstone. "Don't alarm yourself. +But that's what he says--naught wrong, all sound, but--it's time I +rested. Rest and change--complete change. And I've made up my mind--I'm +going to retire from business. Why not? I'm a well-to-do man--better +off than most folks 'ud think. I shall tell Mallalieu tomorrow. Yes--I'm +resolved on it. And that done, I shall go and travel for a year or +two--I've always wanted to go round the world. I'll go--that for a +start, anyway. And the sooner the better, says the doctor. And----" here +he looked searchingly at his listeners--"I'd like to see you settled +before I go. What?" + +Lettie's calm and judicial character came out in the first words she +spoke. She had listened carefully to Cotherstone; now she turned to +Bent. + +"Windle," she said, as quietly as if she were asking the most casual of +questions, "wouldn't it upset all your arrangements for next year? You +see, father," she went on, turning to Cotherstone, "Windle had arranged +everything. He was going to have the whole of the spring and summer away +from business; we were going on the Continent for six months. And that +would have to be entirely altered and----" + +"We could alter it," interrupted Bent. He was watching Cotherstone +closely, and fancying that he saw a strained and eager look in his face, +he decided that Cotherstone was keeping something back, and had not told +them the full truth about his health. + +"It's all a matter of arrangement. I could arrange to go away during the +winter, Lettie." + +"But I don't want to travel in winter," objected Lettie. "Besides--I've +made all my arrangements about my gowns and things." + +"That can be arranged, too," said Bent. "The dressmaker can work +overtime." + +"That'll mean that everything will be hurried--and spoiled," replied +Lettie. "Besides, I've arranged everything with my bridesmaids. They +can't be expected to----" + +"We can do without bridesmaids," replied Bent, laying his hand on +Lettie's arm. "If your father really feels that he's got to have the +rest and the change he spoke of, and wants us to be married first, why, +then----" + +"But there's nothing to prevent you having a rest and a change now, +father," said Lettie. "Why not? I don't like my arrangements to be +altered--I had planned everything out so carefully. When we did fix on +next spring, Windle, I had only just time as it was!" + +"Pooh!" said Bent. "We could get married the day after tomorrow if we +wanted! Bridesmaids--gowns--all that sort of tomfoolery, what does it +matter?" + +"It isn't tomfoolery," retorted Lettie. "If I am to be married I should +like to be married properly." + +She got up, with a heightened colour and a little toss of her head, and +left the room, and the two men looked at each other. + +"Talk to her, my lad," said Cotherstone at last. "Of course, girls think +such a lot of--of all the accompaniments, eh?" + +"Yes, yes--it'll be all right," replied Bent. He tapped Cotherstone's +arm and gave him a searching look. "You're not keeping anything +back--about your health, are you?" he asked. + +Cotherstone glanced at the door and sank his voice to a whisper. + +"It's my heart!" he answered. "Over-strained--much over-strained, the +doctor says. Rest and change--imperative! But--not a word to Lettie, +Bent. Talk her round--get it arranged. I shall feel safer--you +understand?" + +Bent was full of good nature, and though he understood to the full--it +was a natural thing, this anxiety of a father for his only child. He +promised to talk seriously to Lettie at once about an early wedding. And +that night he told Brereton of what had happened, and asked him if he +knew how special licences can be got, and Brereton informed him of all +he knew on that point--and kept silence about one which to him was +becoming deeply and seriously important. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE ANONYMOUS LETTER + + +Within a week of that night Brereton was able to sum things up, to take +stock, to put clearly before himself the position of affairs as they +related to his mysterious client. They had by that time come to a clear +issue: a straight course lay ahead with its ultimate stages veiled in +obscurity. Harborough had again been brought up before the Highmarket +magistrates, had stubbornly refused to give any definite information +about his exact doings on the night of Kitely's murder, and had been +duly committed for trial on the capital charge. On the same day the +coroner, after holding an inquest extending over two sittings, had +similarly committed him. There was now nothing to do but to wait until +the case came on at Norcaster Assizes. Fortunately, the assizes were +fixed for the middle of the ensuing month: Brereton accordingly had +three weeks wherein to prepare his defence--or (which would be an +eminently satisfactory equivalent) to definitely fix the guilt on some +other person. + +Christopher Pett, as legal adviser to the murdered man, had felt it his +duty to remain in Highmarket until the police proceedings and the +coroner's inquest were over. He had made himself conspicuous at both +police-court and coroner's court, putting himself forward wherever he +could, asking questions wherever opportunity offered. Brereton's dislike +of him increased the more he saw of him; he specially resented Pett's +familiarity. But Pett was one of those persons who know how to combine +familiarity with politeness and even servility; to watch or hear him +talk to any one whom he button-holed was to gain a notion of his +veneration for them. He might have been worshipping Brereton when he +buttoned-holed the young barrister after Harborough had been finally +committed to take his trial. + +"Ah, he's a lucky man, that, Mr. Brereton!" observed Pett, collaring +Brereton in a corridor outside the crowded court. "Very fortunate man +indeed, sir, to have you take so much interest in him. Fancy you--with +all your opportunities in town, Mr. Brereton!--stopping down here, just +to defend that fellow out of--what shall we call it?--pure and simple +Quixotism! Quixotism!--I believe that's the correct term, Mr. Brereton. +Oh, yes--for the man's as good as done for. Not a cat's chance! He'll +swing, sir, will your client!" + +"Your simile is not a good one, Mr. Pett," retorted Brereton. "Cats are +said to have nine lives." + +"Cat, rat, mouse, dog--no chance whatever, sir," said Pett, cheerfully. +"I know what a country jury'll say. If I were a betting man, Mr. +Brereton--which I ain't, being a regular church attendant--I'd lay you +ten to one the jury'll never leave the box, sir!" + +"No--I don't think they will--when the right man is put in the dock, Mr. +Pett," replied Brereton. + +Pett drew back and looked the young barrister in the face with an +expression that was half quizzical and half serious. + +"You don't mean to say that you really believe this fellow to be +innocent, Mr. Brereton?" he exclaimed. "You!--with your knowledge of +criminal proceedings! Oh, come now, Mr. Brereton--it's very kind of you, +very Quixotic, as I call it, but----" + +"You shall see," said Brereton and turned off. He had no mind to be more +than civil to Pett, and he frowned when Pett, in his eagerness, laid a +detaining hand on his gown. "I'm not going to discuss it, Mr. Pett," he +added, a little warmly. "I've my own view of the case." + +"But, but, Mr. Brereton--a moment!" urged Pett. "Just between ourselves +as--well, not as lawyers but as--as one gentleman to another. _Do_ you +think it possible it was some other person? Do you now, really?" + +"Didn't your estimable female relative, as you call her, say that I +suggested she might be the guilty person?" demanded Brereton, +maliciously. "Come, now, Mr. Pett! You don't know all that I know!" + +Pett fell back, staring doubtfully at Brereton's curled lip, and +wondering whether to take him seriously or not. And Brereton laughed and +went off--to reflect, five minutes later, that this was no laughing +matter for Harborough and his daughter, and to plunge again into the +maze of thought out of which it was so difficult to drag anything that +seemed likely to be helpful. + +He interviewed Harborough again before he was taken back to Norcaster, +and again he pressed him to speak, and again Harborough gave him a +point-blank refusal. + +"Not unless it comes to the very worst, sir," he said firmly, "and only +then if I see there's no other way--and even then it would only be for +my daughter's sake. But it won't come to that! There's three weeks +yet--good--and if somebody can't find out the truth in three weeks----" + +"Man alive!" exclaimed Brereton. "Your own common-sense ought to tell +you that in cases like this three years isn't enough to get at the +truth! What can I do in three weeks?" + +"There's not only you, sir," replied Harborough. "There's the +police--there's the detectives--there's----" + +"The police and the detectives are all doing their best to fasten the +crime on you!" retorted Brereton. "Of course they are! That's their way. +When they've safely got one man, do you think they're going to look for +another? If you won't tell me what you were doing, and where you were +that night, well, I'll have to find out for myself." + +Harborough gave his counsel a peculiar look which Brereton could not +understand. + +"Oh, well!" he said. "If _you_ found it out----" + +He broke off at that, and would say no more, and Brereton presently left +him and walked thoughtfully homeward, reflecting on the prisoner's last +words. + +"He admits there is something to be found out," he mused. "And by that +very admission he implies that it could be found out. Now--how? +Egad!--I'd give something for even the least notion!" + +Bent's parlour-maid, opening the door to Brereton, turned to a locked +drawer in the old-fashioned clothes-press which stood in Bent's hall, +and took from it a registered letter. + +"For you, sir," she said, handing it to Brereton. "Came by the noon +post, sir. The housekeeper signed for it." + +Brereton took the letter into the smoking-room and looked at it with a +sudden surmise that it might have something to do with the matter which +was uppermost in his thoughts. He had had no expectation of any +registered letter, no idea of anything that could cause any +correspondent of his to send him any communication by registered post. +There was no possibility of recognizing the handwriting of the sender, +for there was no handwriting to recognize: the address was typewritten. +And the postmark was London. + +Brereton carefully cut open the flap of the envelope and drew out the +enclosure--a square sheet of typewriting paper folded about a thin wad +of Bank of England notes. He detached these at once and glanced quickly +at them. There were six of them: all new and crisp--and each was for a +hundred and fifty pounds. + +Brereton laid this money aside and opened the letter. This, too, was +typewritten: a mere glance at its termination showed that it was +anonymous. He sat down at Bent's desk and carefully read it through. + +There was no address: there was nothing beyond the postmark on the +envelope to show where the letter came from; there was absolutely +nothing in the contents to give any clue to the sender. But the wording +was clear and plain. + + + "MR. GIFFORD BRERETON,--Having learnt from the newspapers that you + are acting as counsel for John Harborough, charged with the murder + of a man named Kitely at Highmarket, I send you the enclosed L900 + to be used in furthering Harborough's defence. You will use it + precisely as you think fit. You are not to spare it nor any + endeavour to prove Harborough's innocence--which is known to the + sender. Whenever further funds are needed, all you need do is to + insert an advertisement in the personal column of _The Times_ + newspaper in these words: _Highmarket Exchequer needs + replenishing_, with your initials added. Allow me to suggest that + you should at once offer a reward of L500 to whoever gives + information which will lead to the capture and conviction of the + real murderer or murderers. If this offer fails to bring + information speedily, double it. I repeat that no pains must be + spared in this matter, and that money to any amount is no object. + The sender of this letter will keep well informed of the progress + of events as narrated in the newspapers, to which you will please + to afford all proper information." + + +Brereton read this extraordinary communication through three times; then +he replaced letter and bank-notes in the envelope, put the envelope in +an inner pocket, left the house, and walking across to the Northrop +villa, asked to see Avice Harborough. + +Avice came to him in Mrs. Northrop's drawing-room, and Brereton glancing +keenly at her as she entered saw that she was looking worn and pale. He +put the letter into her hands with a mere word. + +"Your father has a powerful friend--somewhere," he said. + +To his astonishment the girl showed no very great surprise. She started +a little at the sight of the money; she flushed at one or two +expressions in the letter. But she read the letter through without +comment and handed it back to him with a look of inquiry. + +"You don't seem surprised!" said Brereton. + +"There has always been so much mystery to me about my father that I'm +not surprised," she replied. "No!--I'm just thankful! For this +man--whoever he is--says that my father's innocence is known to him. And +that's--just think what it means--to me!" + +"Why doesn't he come forward and prove it, then?" demanded Brereton. + +Avice shook her head. + +"He--they--want it to be proved without that," she answered. "But--don't +you think that if all else fails the man who wrote this would come +forward? Oh, surely!" + +Brereton stood silently looking at her for a full minute. From the +first time of meeting with her he had felt strangely and strongly +attracted to his client's daughter, and as he looked at her now he began +to realize that he was perhaps more deeply interested in her than he +knew. + +"It's all the most extraordinary mystery--this about your father--that +ever I came across!" he exclaimed suddenly. Then he looked still more +closely at her. "You've been worrying!" he said impetuously. "Don't! I +beg you not to. I'll move heaven and earth--because I, personally, am +absolutely convinced of your father's innocence. And--here's powerful +help." + +"You'll do what's suggested here?" she asked. + +"Certainly! It's a capital idea," he answered. "I'd have done it myself +if I'd been a rich man--but I'm not. Cheer up, now!--we're getting on +splendidly. Look here--ask Mrs. Northrop to let you come out with me. +We'll go to the solicitor--together--and see about that reward at once." + +As they presently walked down to the town Brereton gave Avice another of +his critical looks of inspection. + +"You're feeling better," he said in his somewhat brusque fashion. "Is it +this bit of good news?" + +"That--and the sense of doing something," she answered. "If I wasn't +looking well when you came in just now, it was because this inaction is +bad for me. I want to do something!--something to help. If I could only +be stirring--moving about. You understand?" + +"Quite!" responded Brereton. "And there is something you can do. I saw +you on a bicycle the other day. Why not give up your teaching for a +while, and scour the country round about, trying to get hold of some +news about your father's movements that night? That he won't tell us +anything himself is no reason why we shouldn't find out something for +ourselves. He must have been somewhere--someone must have seen him! Why +not begin some investigation?--you know the district. How does that +strike you?" + +"I should be only too thankful," she said. "And I'll do it. The +Northrops are very kind--they'll understand, and they'll let me off. +I'll begin at once--tomorrow. I'll hunt every village between the sea +and the hills!" + +"Good!" said Brereton. "Some work of that sort, and this reward--ah, we +shall come out all right, you'll see." + +"I don't know what we should have done if it hadn't been for you!" said +Avice. "But--we shan't forget. My father is a strange man, Mr. Brereton, +but he's not the sort of man he's believed to be by these Highmarket +people--and he's grateful to you--as you'll see." + +"But I must do something to merit his gratitude first, you know," +replied Brereton. "Come!--I've done next to nothing as yet. But we'll +make a fresh start with this reward--if your father's solicitor +approves." + +The solicitor did approve--strongly. And he opened his eyes to their +widest extent when he read the anonymous letter and saw the bank-notes. + +"Your father," he observed to Avice, "is the most mysterious man I ever +heard of! The Kitely mystery, in my opinion, is nothing to the +Harborough mystery. Do you really mean to tell me that you haven't an +idea of what all this means?" + +"Not an idea!" replied Avice. "Not the ghost of one." + +"Well--we'll get these posters and handbills out, anyway, Mr. Brereton," +said the solicitor. "Five hundred pounds is a good figure. Lord bless +you!--some of these Highmarket folk would sell their mothers for half +that! The whole population will be turned into amateur detectives. Now +let's draft the exact wording, and then we'll see the printer." + +Next day the bill-poster placarded Highmarket with the reward bills, and +distributed them broadcast in shops and offices, and one of the first +persons to lay hands on one was Mallalieu & Cotherstone's clerk, Herbert +Stoner. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SHEET OF FIGURES + + +At that time Stoner had been in the employment of Mallalieu and +Cotherstone for some five or six years. He was then twenty-seven years +of age. He was a young man of some ability--sharp, alert, quick at +figures, good at correspondence, punctual, willing: he could run the +business in the absence of its owners. The two partners appreciated +Stoner, and they had gradually increased his salary until it reached the +sum of two pounds twelve shillings and sixpence per week. In their +opinion a young single man ought to have done very well on that: +Mallalieu and Cotherstone had both done very well on less when they were +clerks in that long vanished past of which they did not care to think. +But Stoner was a young man of tastes. He liked to dress well. He liked +to play cards and billiards. He liked to take a drink or two at the +Highmarket taverns of an evening, and to be able to give his +favourite barmaids boxes of chocolate or pairs of gloves now and +then--judiciously. And he found his salary not at all too great, and he +was always on the look-out for a chance of increasing it. + +Stoner emerged from Mallalieu & Cotherstone's office at his usual hour +of half-past five on the afternoon of the day on which the reward bills +were put out. It was his practice to drop in at the Grey Mare Inn every +evening on his way to his supper, there to drink a half-pint of bitter +ale and hear the news of the day from various cronies who were to be met +with in the bar-parlour. As he crossed the street on this errand on this +particular evening, Postick, the local bill-poster, came hurrying out of +the printer's shop with a bundle of handbills under his arm, and as he +sped past Stoner, thrust a couple of them into the clerk's hand. + +"Here y'are, Mr. Stoner!" he said without stopping. "Something for you +to set your wits to work on. Five hundred reward--for a bit o' brain +work!" + +Stoner, who thought Postick was chaffing him, was about to throw the +handbills, still damp from the press, into the gutter which he was +stepping over. But in the light of an adjacent lamp he caught sight of +the word _Murder_ in big staring capitals at the top of them. Beneath it +he caught further sight of familiar names--and at that he folded up the +bills, went into the Grey Mare, sat down in a quiet corner, and read +carefully through the announcement. It was a very simple one, and +plainly worded. Five hundred pounds would be paid by Mr. Tallington, +solicitor, of Highmarket, to any person or persons who would afford +information which would lead to the arrest and conviction of the +murderer or murderers of the deceased Kitely. + +No one was in the bar-parlour of the Grey Mare when Stoner first entered +it, but by the time he had re-read the handbill, two or three men of +the town had come in, and he saw that each carried a copy. One of them, +a small tradesman whose shop was in the centre of the Market Square, +leaned against the bar and read the terms of the reward aloud. + +"And whose money might that be?" he asked, half-sneeringly. "Who's +throwing brass round in that free-handed fashion? I should want to know +if the money's safe before I wasted my time in trying to get it." + +"Money'll be all right," observed one of the speaker's companions. +"There's Lawyer Tallington's name at the foot o' that bill. He wouldn't +put his name to no offer o' that sort if he hadn't the brass in hand." + +"Whose money is it, then?" demanded the first speaker. "It's not a +Government reward. They say that Kitely had no relatives, so it can't be +them. And it can't be that old housekeeper of his, because they say +she's satisfied enough that Jack Harborough's the man, and they've got +him. Queer do altogether, I call it!" + +"It's done in Harborough's interest," said a third man. "Either that, or +there's something very deep in it. Somebody's not satisfied and +somebody's going to have a flutter with his brass over it." He turned +and glanced at Stoner, who had come to the bar for his customary +half-pint of ale. "Your folks aught to do with this?" he asked. "Kitely +was Mr. Cotherstone's tenant, of course." + +Stoner laughed scornfully as he picked up his tankard. + +"Yes, I don't think!" he sneered. "Catch either of my governors wasting +five hundred pence, or five pence, in that way! Not likely!" + +"Well, there's Tallington's name to back it," said one of the men. "We +all know Tallington. What he says, he does. The money'll be there--if +it's earned." + +Then they all looked at each other silently, surmise and speculation in +the eyes of each. + +"Tell you what!" suddenly observed the little tradesman, as if struck +with a clever idea. "It might be young Bent! Five hundred pound is +naught to him. This here young London barrister that's defending +Harborough is stopping with Bent--they're old schoolmates. Happen he's +persuaded Bent to do the handsome: they say that this barrister chap's +right down convinced that Harborough's innocent. It must be Bent's +brass!" + +"What's Popsie say?" asked one of the younger members of the party, +winking at the barmaid, who, having supplied her customers' needs, was +leaning over a copy of the handbill which somebody had laid on the bar. +"Whose brass can it be, Popsie?" + +The barmaid stood up, seized a glass and a cloth, and began to polish +the glass with vigor. + +"What's Popsie say?" she repeated. "Why, what she says is that you're a +lot of donkeys for wasting your time in wondering whose brass it is. +What does it matter whose brass it is, so long as it's safe? What you +want to do is to try and earn it. You don't pick up five hundred pounds +every day!" + +"She's right!" said some man of the group. "But--how does anybody start +on to them games?" + +"There'll be plenty o' starters, for all that, my lads!" observed the +little tradesman. "Never you fear! There'll be candidates." + +Stoner drank off his ale and went away. Usually, being given to gossip, +he stopped chatting with anybody he chanced to meet until it was close +upon his supper-time. But the last remark sent him off. For Stoner meant +to be a starter, and he had no desire that anybody should get away in +front of him. + +The lodging in which Stoner kept his bachelor state was a quiet and +eminently respectable one. He had two small rooms, a parlour and a +bedchamber, in the house of a widow with whom he had lodged ever since +his first coming to Highmarket, nearly six years before. In the tiny +parlour he kept a few books and a writing-desk, and on those evenings +which he did not spend in playing cards or billiards, he did a little +intellectual work in the way of improving his knowledge of French, +commercial arithmetic, and business correspondence. And that night, his +supper being eaten, and the door closed upon his landlady, he lighted +his pipe, sat down to his desk, unlocked one of its drawers, and from an +old file-box drew out some papers. One of these, a half-sheet of ruled +foolscap, he laid in front of him, the rest he put back. And then, +propping his chin on his folded hands, Stoner gave that half-sheet a +long, speculative inspection. + +If anybody had looked over Stoner's shoulder they would have seen him +gazing at a mass of figures. The half-sheet of foolscap was covered with +figures: the figuring extended to the reverse side. And--what a +looker-on might not have known, but what Stoner knew very well--the +figures were all of Cotherstone's making--clear, plain, well-formed +figures. And amongst them, and on the margins of the half-sheet, and +scrawled here and there, as if purposelessly and carelessly, was one +word in Cotherstone's handwriting, repeated over and over again. That +word was--_Wilchester_. + +Stoner knew how that half-sheet of foolscap had come into his +possession. It was a half-sheet which he had found on Cotherstone's desk +when he went into the partners' private room to tidy things up on the +morning after the murder of Kitely. It lay there, carelessly tossed +aside amongst other papers of clearer meaning, and Stoner, after one +glance at it, had carefully folded it, placed it in his pocket, taken it +home, and locked it up, to be inspected at leisure. + +He had had his reasons, of course, for this abstraction of a paper which +rightfully belonged to Cotherstone. Those reasons were a little +difficult to explain to himself in one way; easy enough to explain, in +another. As regards the difficulty, Stoner had somehow or other got a +vague idea, that evening of the murder, that something was wrong with +Cotherstone. He had noticed, or thought he noticed, a queer look on old +Kitely's face when the ex-detective left the private room--it was a look +of quiet satisfaction, or triumph, or malice; any way, said Stoner, it +was something. Then there was the fact of Cotherstone's curious +abstraction when he, Stoner, entered and found his employer sitting in +the darkness, long after Kitely had gone--Cotherstone had said he was +asleep, but Stoner knew that to be a fib. Altogether, Stoner had gained +a vague feeling, a curious intuition, that there was something queer, +not unconnected with the visit of Cotherstone's new tenant, and when he +heard, next morning, of what had befallen Kitely, all his suspicions +were renewed. + +So much for the difficult reasons which had made him appropriate the +half-sheet of foolscap. But there was a reason which was not difficult. +It lay in the presence of that word _Wilchester_. If not of the finest +degree of intellect, Stoner was far from being a fool, and it had not +taken him very long to explain to himself why Cotherstone had scribbled +the name of that far-off south-country town all over that sheet of +paper, aimlessly, apparently without reason, amidst his figurings. _It +was uppermost in his thoughts at the time_--and as he sat there, pen in +hand, he had written it down, half-unconsciously, over and over +again.... There it was--_Wilchester_--Wilchester--Wilchester. + +The reiteration had a peculiar interest for Stoner. He had never heard +Cotherstone nor Mallalieu mention Wilchester at any time since his first +coming into their office. The firm had no dealings with any firm at +Wilchester. Stoner, who dealt with all the Mallalieu & Cotherstone +correspondence, knew that during his five and a half years' clerkship, +he had never addressed a single letter to any one at Wilchester, never +received a single letter bearing the Wilchester post-mark. Wilchester +was four hundred miles away, far off in the south; ninety-nine out of +every hundred persons in Highmarket had never heard the name of +Wilchester. But Stoner had--quite apart from the history books, and the +geography books, and map of England. Stoner himself was a Darlington +man. He had a close friend, a bosom friend, at Darlington, named +Myler--David Myler. Now David Myler was a commercial traveller--a smart +fellow of Stoner's age. He was in the service of a Darlington firm of +agricultural implement makers, and his particular round lay in the +market-towns of the south and south-west of England. He spent a +considerable part of the year in those districts, and Wilchester was one +of his principal headquarters: Stoner had many a dozen letters of +Myler's, which Myler had written to him from Wilchester. And only a year +before all this, Myler had brought home a bride in the person of a +Wilchester girl, the daughter of a Wilchester tradesman. + +So the name of Wilchester was familiar enough to Stoner. And now he +wanted to know what--what--what made it so familiar to Cotherstone that +Cotherstone absent-mindedly scribbled it all over a half-sheet of +foolscap paper? + +But the figures? Had they any connexion with the word? This was the +question which Stoner put to himself when he sat down that night in his +parlour to seriously consider if he had any chance of winning that five +hundred pounds reward. He looked at the figures again--more carefully. +The truth was that until that evening he had never given much attention +to those figures: it was the word Wilchester that had fascinated him. +But now, summoning all his by no means small arithmetical knowledge to +his aid, Stoner concentrated himself on an effort to discover what +those figures meant. That they were a calculation of some sort he had +always known--now he wanted to know of what. + +The solution of the problem came to him all of a sudden--as the solution +of arithmetical problems often does come. He saw the whole thing quite +plainly and wondered that he had not seen it at a first glance. The +figures represented nothing whatever but three plain and common sums--in +compound arithmetic. Cotherstone, for some reason of his own, had taken +the sum of two thousand pounds as a foundation, and had calculated (1st) +what thirty years' interest on that sum at three and a half per cent. +would come to; and (2nd) what thirty years' interest at five per cent. +would come to; and (3rd) what the compound interest on two thousand +pounds would come to--capital and compound interest--in the same period. +The last reckoning--the compound interest one--had been crossed over and +out with vigorous dashes of the pen, as if the calculator had been +appalled on discovering what an original sum of two thousand pounds, +left at compound interest for thirty years, would be transformed into in +that time. + +All this was so much Greek to Stoner. But he knew there was something in +it--something behind those figures. They might refer to some Corporation +financial business--Cotherstone being Borough Treasurer. But--they might +not. And why were they mixed up with Wilchester? + +For once in a way, Stoner took no walk abroad that night. Usually, even +when he stopped in of an evening, he had a brief stroll to the Grey +Mare and back last thing before going to bed. But on this occasion he +forgot all about the Grey Mare, and Popsie the barmaid did not come into +his mind for even a second. He sat at home, his feet on the fender, his +eyes fixed on the dying coals in the grate. He thought--thought so hard +that he forgot that his pipe had gone out. The fire had gone out, too, +when he finally rose and retired. And he went on thinking for a long +time after his head had sought his pillow. + +"Well, it's Saturday tomorrow, anyway!" he mused at last. "Which is +lucky." + +Next day--being Saturday and half-holiday--Stoner attired himself in his +best garments, and, in the middle of the afternoon, took train for +Darlington. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER + + +Although Stoner hailed from Darlington, he had no folk of his own left +there--they were all dead and gone. Accordingly he put himself up at a +cheap hotel, and when he had taken what its proprietors called a meat +tea, he strolled out and made for that part of the town in which his +friend Myler had set up housekeeping in a small establishment wherein +there was just room for a couple of people to turn round. Its +accommodation, indeed, was severely taxed just then, for Myler's father +and mother-in-law had come to visit him and their daughter, and when +Stoner walked in on the scene and added a fifth the tiny parlour was +filled to its full extent. + +"Who'd ha' thought of seeing you, Stoner!" exclaimed Myler joyously, +when he had welcomed his old chum, and had introduced him to the family +circle. "And what brings you here, anyway? Business?" + +"Just a bit of business," answered Stoner. "Nothing much, though--only a +call to make, later on. I'm stopping the night, though." + +"Wish we could ha' put you up here, old sport!" said Myler, ruefully. +"But we don't live in a castle, yet. All full here!--unless you'd like a +shakedown on the kitchen table, or in the wood-shed. Or you can try the +bath, if you like." + +Amidst the laughter which succeeded this pleasantry, Stoner said that he +wouldn't trouble the domestic peace so far--he'd already booked his +room. And while Myler--who, commercial-traveller like, cultivated a +reputation for wit--indulged in further jokes, Stoner stealthily +inspected the father-in-law. What a fortunate coincidence! he said to +himself; what a lucky stroke! There he was, wanting badly to find out +something about Wilchester--and here, elbow to elbow with him, was a +Wilchester man! And an elderly Wilchester man, too--one who doubtless +remembered all about Wilchester for many a long year. That was another +piece of luck, for Stoner was quite certain that if Cotherstone had ever +had any connexion with Wilchester it must have been a long, long time +ago: he knew, from information acquired, that Cotherstone had been a +fixture in Highmarket for thirty years. + +He glanced at Myler's father-in-law again as Myler, remarking that when +old friends meet, the flowing bowl must flow, produced a bottle of +whisky from a brand-new chiffonier, and entreated his bride to fetch +what he poetically described as the crystal goblets and the sparkling +stream. The father-in-law was a little apple-faced old gentleman with +bright eyes and a ready smile, who evidently considered his son-in-law a +born wit, and was ready to laugh at all his sallies. A man of good +memory, that, decided Stoner, and wondered how he could diplomaticaly +lead Mr. Pursey to talk about the town he came from. But Mr. Pursey was +shortly to talk about Wilchester to some purpose--and with no +drawing-out from Stoner or anybody. + +"Well," remarked Myler, having supplied his guests with spirituous +refreshment, and taken a pull at his own glass. "I'm glad to see you, +Stoner, and so's the missis, and here's hoping you'll come again as +often as the frog went to the water. You've been having high old times +in that back-of-beyond town of yours, haven't you? Battles, murders, +sudden deaths!--who'd ha' thought a slow old hill-country town like +Highmarket could have produced so much excitement! What's happened to +that chap they collared?--I haven't had time to look at the papers this +last day or two--been too busy." + +"Committed for trial," answered Stoner. "He'll come up at Norcaster +Assizes next month." + +"Do they think he did it?" asked Myler. "Is it a sure thing?" + +Before Stoner could reply Mr. Pursey entered the arena. His face +displayed the pleased expression of the man who has special information. + +"It's an odd thing, now, David," he said in a high, piping voice, "a +very odd thing, that this should happen when I come up into these +parts--almost as foreign to me as the Fiji Islands might be. Yes, sir," +he went on, turning to Stoner, "it's very odd! I knew that man Kitely." + +Stoner could have jumped from his seat, but he restrained himself, and +contrived to show no more than a polite interest. + +"Oh, indeed, sir?" he said. "The poor man that was murdered? You knew +him?" + +"I remember him very well indeed," assented Mr. Pursey. "Yes, although I +only met him once, I've a very complete recollection of the man. I spent +a very pleasant evening with him and one or two more of his +profession--better sort of police and detectives, you know--at a +friend's of mine, who was one of our Wilchester police officials--oh, +it's--yes--it must be thirty years since. They'd come from London, of +course, on some criminal business. Deary me!--the tales them fellows +could tell!" + +"Thirty years is a long time, sir," observed Stoner politely. + +"Aye, but I remember it quite well," said Mr. Pursey, with a confident +nod. "I know it was thirty years ago, 'cause it was the Wilchester +Assizes at which the Mallows & Chidforth case was tried. Yes--thirty +years. Eighteen hundred and eighty-one was the year. Mallows & +Chidforth--aye!" + +"Famous case that, sir?" asked Stoner. He was almost bursting with +excitement by that time, and he took a big gulp of whisky and water to +calm himself. "Something special, sir? Murder, eh?" + +"No--fraud, embezzlement, defalcation--I forget what the proper legal +term 'ud be," replied Mr. Pursey. "But it was a bad case--a real bad +'un. We'd a working men's building society in Wilchester in those +days--it's there now for that matter, but under another name--and there +were two better-class young workmen, smart fellows, that acted one as +secretary and t'other as treasurer to it. They'd full control, those +two had, and they were trusted, aye, as if they'd been the Bank of +England! And all of a sudden, something came out, and it was found that +these two, Mallows, treasurer, Chidforth, secretary, had made away with +two thousand pounds of the society's money. Two thousand pounds!" + +"Two thousand pounds?" exclaimed Stoner, whose thoughts went like +lightning to the half-sheet of foolscap. "You don't say!" + +"Yes--well, it might ha' been a pound or two more or less," said the old +man, "but two thousand was what they called it. And of course Mallows +and Chidforth were prosecuted--and they got two years. Oh, yes, we +remember that case very well indeed in Wilchester, don't we, Maria?" + +"And good reason!" agreed Mrs. Pursey warmly. "There were a lot of poor +people nearly ruined by them bad young men." + +"There were!" affirmed Mr. Pursey. "Yes--oh, yes! Aye--I've often +wondered what became of 'em--Mallows and Chidforth, I mean. For from the +time they got out of prison they've never been heard of in our parts. +Not a word!--they disappeared completely. Some say, of course, that they +had that money safely planted, and went to it. I don't know. But--off +they went." + +"Pooh!" said Myler. "That's an easy one. Went off to some colony or +other, of course. Common occurrence, father-in-law. Bert, old sport, +what say if we rise on our pins and have a hundred at billiards at the +Stag and Hunter--good table there." + +Stoner followed his friend out of the little house, and once outside +took him by the arm. + +"Confound the billards, Dave, old man!" he said, almost trembling with +suppressed excitement. "Look here!--d'you know a real quiet corner in +the Stag where we can have an hour's serious consultation. You do?--then +come on, and I'll tell you the most wonderful story you ever heard since +your ears were opened!" + +Myler, immediately impressed, led the way into a small and vacant +parlour in the rear of a neighbouring hostelry, ordered refreshments, +bade the girl who brought them to leave him and his friend alone, and +took the liberty of locking the door on their privacy. And that done he +showed himself such a perfect listener that he never opened his lips +until Stoner had set forth everything before him in detail. Now and then +he nodded, now and then his sharp eyes dilated, now and then he clapped +his hands. And in the end he smote Stoner on the shoulder. + +"Stoner, old sport!" he exclaimed. "It's a sure thing! Gad, I never +heard a clearer. That five hundred is yours--aye, as dead certain as +that my nose is mine! It's--it's--what they call inductive reasoning. +The initials M. and C.--Mallows and Chidforth--Mallalieu and +Cotherstone--the two thousand pounds--the fact that Kitely was at +Wilchester Assizes in 1881--that he became Cotherstone's tenant thirty +years after--oh, I see it all, and so will a judge and jury! Stoner, +one, or both of 'em killed that old chap to silence him!" + +"That's my notion," assented Stoner, who was highly pleased with +himself, and by that time convinced that his own powers, rather than a +combination of lucky circumstances, had brought the desired result +about. "Of course, I've worked it out to that. And the thing now +is--what's the best line to take? What would you suggest, Dave?" + +Myler brought all his business acumen to bear on the problem presented +to him. + +"What sort of chap is this Tallington?" he asked at last, pointing to +the name at the foot of the reward handbill. + +"Most respectable solicitor in Highmarket," answered Stoner, promptly. + +"Word good?" asked Myler. + +"Good as--gold," affirmed Stoner. + +"Then if it was me," said Myler, "I should make a summary of what I +knew, on paper--carefully--and I should get a private interview with +this Tallington and tell him--all. Man!--you're safe of that five +hundred! For there's no doubt, Stoner, on the evidence, no doubt +whatever!" + +Stoner sat silently reflecting things for a while. Then he gave his +friend a sly, somewhat nervous look. Although he and Myler had been +bosom friends since they were breeched, Stoner was not quite certain as +to what Myler would say to what he, Stoner, was just then thinking of. + +"Look here," he said suddenly. "There's this about it. It's all jolly +well, but a fellow's got to think for himself, Dave, old man. Now it +doesn't matter a twopenny cuss to me about old Kitely--I don't care if +he was scragged twice over--I've no doubt he deserved it. But it'll +matter a lot to M. & C. if they're found out. I can touch that five +hundred easy as winking--but--you take my meaning?--I daresay M. & C. +'ud run to five thousand if I kept my tongue still. What?" + +But Stoner knew at once that Myler disapproved. The commercial +traveller's homely face grew grave, and he shook his head with an +unmistakable gesture. + +"No, Stoner," he said. "None o' that! Play straight, my lad! No +hush-money transactions. Keep to the law, Stoner, keep to the law! +Besides, there's others than you can find all this out. What you want to +do is to get in first. See Tallington as soon as you get back." + +"I daresay you're right," admitted Stoner. "But--I know M. & C, and I +know they'd give--aye, half of what they're worth--and that's a lot!--to +have this kept dark." + +That thought was with him whenever he woke in the night, and as he +strolled round Darlington next morning, it was still with him when, +after an early dinner, he set off homeward by an early afternoon train +which carried him to High Gill junction; whence he had to walk five +miles across the moors and hills to Highmarket. And he was still +pondering it weightily when, in one of the loneliest parts of the +solitudes which he was crossing, he turning the corner of a little pine +wood, and came face to face with Mallalieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE LONELY MOOR + + +During the three hours which had elapsed since his departure from +Darlington, Stoner had been thinking things over. He had seen his friend +Myler again that morning; they had had a drink or two together at the +station refreshment room before Stoner's train left, and Myler had once +more urged upon Stoner to use his fortunately acquired knowledge in the +proper way. No doubt, said Myler, he could get Mallalieu and Cotherstone +to square him; no doubt they would cheerfully pay thousands where the +reward only came to hundreds--but, when everything was considered, was +it worth while? No!--a thousand times, no, said Myler. The mere fact +that Stoner had found out all this was a dead sure proof that somebody +else might find it out. The police had a habit, said Myler, of working +like moles--underground. How did Stoner know that some of the Norcaster +and London detectives weren't on the job already? They knew by that time +that old Kitely was an ex-detective; they'd be sure to hark back on his +past doings, in the effort to trace some connexion between one or other +of them and his murder. Far away as it was, that old Wilchester affair +would certainly come up again. And when it came up--ah, well, observed +Myler, with force and earnestness, it would be a bad job for Stoner if +it were found out that he'd accepted hush-money from his masters. In +fact--Myler gave it as his decided opinion, though, as he explained, he +wasn't a lawyer--he didn't know but what Stoner, in that case, would be +drawn in as an accessory after the fact. + +"Keep to the law, Bert, old man!" counselled Myler, as they parted. +"You'll be all right then. Stick to my advice--see Tallington at +once--this very afternoon!--and put in for the five hundred. You'll be +safe as houses in doing that--but there'd be an awful risk about +t'other, Bert. Be wise!--you'll get no better counsel." + +Stoner knew that his sagacious friend was right, and he was prepared to +abide by his counsel--as long as Myler was at his elbow. But when he had +got away from him, his mind began to wobble. Five hundred pounds!--what +was it in comparison with what he might get by a little skilful playing +of his cards? He knew Mallalieu and he knew Cotherstone--knew much more +about both of them than they had any idea of. He knew that they were +rich men--very rich men. They had been making money for years, and of +late certain highly successful and profitable contracts had increased +their wealth in a surprising fashion. Everything had gone right with +them--every contract they had taken up had turned out a gold mine. Five +thousand pounds would be nothing to them singly--much less jointly. In +Stoner's opinion, he had only to ask in order to have. He firmly +believed that they would pay--pay at once, in good cash. And if they +did--well, he would take good care that no evil chances came to him! If +he laid hands on five thousand pounds, he would be out of Highmarket +within five hours, and half-way across the Atlantic within five days. +No--Dave Myler was a good sort--one of the best--but he was a bit +straight-laced, and old-fashioned--especially since he had taken a +wife--and after all, every man has a right to do his best for himself. +And so, when Stoner came face to face with Mallalieu, on the lonely moor +between High Gill and Highmarket, his mind was already made up to +blackmail. + +The place in which they met was an appropriate one--for Stoner's +purpose. He had crossed the high ground between the railway and the +little moorland town by no definite track, but had come in a bee-line +across ling and bracken and heather. All around stretched miles upon +miles of solitude--nothing but the undulating moors, broken up by great +masses of limestone rock and occasional clumps and coverts of fir and +pine; nothing but the blue line of the hills in the west; nothing but +the grey northern skies overhead; nothing but the cry of the curlew and +the bleating of the mountain sheep. It was in the midst of this that he +met his senior employer--at the corner of a thin spinney which ran along +the edge of a disused quarry. Mallalieu, as Stoner well knew, was a +great man for walking on these moors, and he always walked alone. He +took these walks to keep his flesh down; here he came, swinging his +heavy oak walking-stick, intent on his own thoughts, and he and Stoner, +neither hearing the other's footfall on the soft turf, almost ran into +each other. Stoner, taken aback, flushed with the sudden surprise. + +But Mallalieu, busied with his own reflections, had no thought of Stoner +in his mind, and consequently showed no surprise at meeting him. He made +a point of cultivating friendly relations with all who worked for him, +and he grinned pleasantly at his clerk. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed cordially. "Taking your walks alone, eh? Now I +should ha' thought a young fellow like you would ha' been taking one o' +Miss Featherby's little milliners out for a dander, like--down the +river-side, what?" + +Stoner smiled--not as Mallalieu smiled. He was in no mood for +persiflage; if he smiled it was because he thought that things were +coming his way, that the game was being played into his hands. And +suddenly he made up his mind. + +"Something better to do than that, Mr. Mallalieu," he answered pertly. +"I don't waste my time on dress-makers' apprentices. Something better to +think of than that, sir." + +"Oh!" said Mallalieu. "Ah! I thought you looked pretty deep in +reflection. What might it be about, like?" + +Something within Stoner was urging him on to go straight to the point. +No fencing, said this inward monitor, no circumlocution--get to it, +straight out. And Stoner thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulled out +a copy of the reward bill. He opened it before his employer, watching +Mallalieu's face. + +"That!" he said. "Just that, Mr. Mallalieu." + +Mallalieu glanced at the handbill, started a little, and looked +half-sharply, half-angrily, at his clerk. + +"What about it?" he growled. His temper, as Stoner well knew, was +quickly roused, and it showed signs of awakening now. "What're you +showing me that bit o' paper for? Mind your manners, young man!" + +"No offence meant," retorted Stoner, coolly. He looked round him, +noticed some convenient railings, old and worn, which fenced in the +quarry, and stepping back to them, calmly leaned against the top one, +put his hands in his pockets and looked at Mallalieu with a glance which +was intended to show that he felt himself top dog in any encounter that +might come. "I want a word or two with you, Mr. Mallalieu," he said. + +Mallalieu, who was plainly amazed by this strange conduct, glared at +Stoner. + +"You want a word--or two--with--me?" he exclaimed. "For why, pray?--and +why here?" + +"Here's a convenient spot," said Stoner, with a nasty laugh. "We're all +alone. Not a soul near us. You wouldn't like anybody to overhear what +I've got to say." + +Mallalieu stared at the clerk during a full minute's silence. He had a +trick of silently staring people out of countenance. But he found that +Stoner was not to be stared down, and eventually he spoke. + +"I'll tell you what it is, my lad!" he said. "I don't know whether +you've been drinking, or if you've some bee in your bonnet, but I don't +allow nobody, and especially a man as I pay wages to, to speak in them +tones to me! What d'ye mean by it?" + +"I'll tell you what I mean, Mr. Mallalieu," replied Stoner, still +regarding his man fixedly, and nerving himself for the contest. "I mean +this--I know who killed Kitely!" + +Mallalieu felt himself start again; he felt his face flush warm. But he +managed to show a fairly controlled front, and he made shift to sneer. + +"Oh, indeed," he said, twisting his mouth in derision. "Do you now? +Deary me!--it's wonderful how clever some young folks is! So you know +who killed Kitely, do you, my lad? Ah! And who did kill Kitely, now? +Let's be knowing! Or happen you'd rather keep such a grand secret to +yourself--till you can make something out of it?" + +"I can make something out of it now," retorted Stoner, who was sharp +enough to see through Mallalieu's affectation of scorn. "Just you +realize the importance of what I'm saying. I tell you once again--I know +who killed Kitely!" + +"And who did kill him, then?" demanded Mallalieu. "Psha!--you know +naught about it!" + +Stoner laughed, looked round, and then leaned his head forward. + +"Don't I?" he said, with a sneer that exceeded his employer's in +significance and meaning. "But you're wrong--I do! Kitely was murdered +by either you or Cotherstone! How's that, Mr. Mallalieu?" + +Mallalieu again regarded his clerk in silence. He knew by that time that +this fellow was in possession of some information, and his +characteristic inclination was to fence with him. And he made a great +effort to pull himself together, so as to deal better with whatever +might be in store. + +"Either me or Mr. Cotherstone!" he repeated sarcastically. "Oh! Now +which on us would you be inclined to fix it on, Mr. Stoner? Eh?" + +"May have been one, may have been the other, may have been both, for +aught I know," retorted Stoner. "But you're both guilty, any way! It's +no use, Mr. Mallalieu--I know you killed him. And--I know why!" + +Again there was silence, and again a duel of staring eyes. And at its +end Mallalieu laughed again, still affecting sneering and incredulous +sentiments. + +"Aye?--and why did one or t'other or both--have it which way you +will--murder this here old gentleman?" he demanded. "Why, Mr. +Sharp-nose?" + +"I'll tell you--and then you'll know what I know," answered Stoner. +"Because the old gentleman was an ex-detective, who was present when you +and Cotherstone, under your proper names of Mallows and Chidforth, were +tried for fraud at Wilchester Assizes, thirty years ago, and sentenced +to two years! That's why, Mr. Mallalieu. The old chap knew it, and he +let you know that he knew it, and you killed him to silence him. You +didn't want it to get out that the Mayor and Borough Treasurer of +Highmarket, so respected, so much thought of, are--a couple of old +gaol-birds!" + +Mallalieu's hot temper, held very well in check until then, flamed up as +Stoner spat out the last contemptuous epithet. He had stood with his +right hand behind him, grasping his heavy oaken stick--now, as his rage +suddenly boiled, he swung hand and stick round in a savage blow at his +tormentor, and the crook of the stick fell crashing against Stoner's +temples. So quick was the blow, so sudden the assault, that the clerk +had time to do no more than throw up an arm. And as he threw it up, and +as the heavy blow fell, the old, rotten railing against which Stoner had +leant so nonchalantly, gave way, and he fell back through it, and across +the brow of the quarry--and without a sound. Mallalieu heard the crash +of his stick on his victim's temples; he heard the rending and crackling +of the railings--but he heard neither cry, nor sigh, nor groan from +Stoner. Stoner fell backward and disappeared--and then (it seemed an age +in coming) Mallalieu's frightened senses were aware of a dull thud +somewhere far down in the depths into which he had fallen. Then came +silence--deep, heavy silence--broken at last by the cry of a curlew +flying across the lonely moor. + +Mallalieu was seized with a trembling fit. He began to shake. His heavy +frame trembled as if under the effects of a bad ague; the hand which had +struck the blow shook so violently that the stick dropped from it. And +Mallalieu looked down at the stick, and in a sudden overwhelming rage +kicked it away from him over the brink of the quarry. He lifted his fist +and shook it--and just as suddenly dropped it. The trembling passed, and +he broke out into a cold sweat of fear. + +"God ha' mercy!" he muttered. "If--if he's killed? He shouldn't ha' +plagued me--he shouldn't ha' dared me! It was more than flesh and blood +could stand, and--Lord ha' mercy, what's to be done?" + +The autumn twilight was creeping over the moor. The sun had set behind +the far-off western hills just before Mallalieu and Stoner had met, and +while they talked dusk had come on. The moorlands were now growing dark +and vague, and it seemed to Mallalieu that as the light failed the +silence increased. He looked round him, fearful lest any of the +shepherds of the district had come up to take a Sunday glance at their +flocks. And once he thought he saw a figure at a little distance away +along the edge of the trees, and he strained and strained his eyes in +its direction--and concluded it was nothing. Presently he strained his +eyes in another way--he crept cautiously to the edge of the quarry, and +looked over the broken railing, and far down on the limestone rocks +beneath he saw Stoner, lying on his back, motionless. + +Long experience of the moorlands and their nooks and crannies enabled +Mallalieu to make his way down to the bottom of the quarry by a descent +through a brake of gorse and bramble. He crept along by the undergrowth +to where the body lay, and fearfully laid a hand on the still figure. +One touch was sufficient--he stood up trembling and shaking more than +ever. + +"He's dead--dead!" he muttered. "Must ha' broken his neck--it's a good +fifty feet down here. Was ever aught so unfortunate! And--whatever shall +I say and do about it?" + +Inspiration came to him quickly--as quickly as the darkness came into +that place of death. He made an effort, and regained his composure, and +presently was able to think and to decide. He would say and do +nothing--nothing whatever. No one had witnessed the meeting between +Stoner and himself. No one had seen the blow. No one had seen Stoner's +fall. Far better to say nothing, do nothing--far best to go away and let +things take their course. Stoner's body would be found, next day, the +day after, some day--and when it was found, people would say that Stoner +had been sitting on those rotten railings, and they had given way, and +he had fallen--and whatever marks there were on him would be attributed +to the fall down the sharp edges of the old quarry. + +So Mallalieu presently went away by another route, and made his way back +to Highmarket in the darkness of the evening, hiding himself behind +hedges and walls until he reached his own house. And it was not until he +lay safe in bed that night that he remembered the loss of his stick. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE MEDICAL OPINION + + +The recollection of that stick plunged Mallalieu into another of his +ague-like fits of shaking and trembling. There was little sleep for him +after that: he spent most of the night in thinking, anticipating, and +scheming. That stick would almost certainly be found, and it would be +found near Stoner's body. A casual passer-by would not recognize it, a +moorland shepherd would not recognize it. But the Highmarket police, to +whom it would be handed, would know it at once to be the Mayor's: it was +one which Mallalieu carried almost every day--a plain, very stout oak +staff. And the police would want to know how it came to be in that +quarry. Curse it!--was ever anything so unfortunate!--however could he +have so far lost his head as to forget it? He was half tempted to rise +in the middle of the night and set out for the moors, to find it. But +the night was dark, and solitary as the moors and the quarry where he +dared not risk the taking of a lantern. And so he racked his brains in +the effort to think of some means of explaining the presence of the +stick. He hit on a notion at last--remembering suddenly that Stoner had +carried neither stick nor umbrella. If the stick were found he would +say that he had left it at the office on the Saturday, and that the +clerk must have borrowed it. There was nothing unlikely in that: it was +a good reason, it would explain why it came to be found near the body. +Naturally, the police would believe the word of the Mayor: it would be a +queer thing if they didn't, in Mallalieu's opinion. And therewith he +tried to go to sleep, and made a miserable failure of it. + +As he lay tossing and groaning in his comfortable bed that night, +Mallalieu thought over many things. How had Stoner acquired his +information? Did anybody else know what Stoner knew? After much +reflection he decided that nobody but Stoner did know. Further reckoning +up of matters gave him a theory as to how Stoner had got to know. He saw +it all--according to his own idea. Stoner had overheard the conversation +between old Kitely and Cotherstone in the private office, of course! +That was it--he wondered he had never thought of it before. Between the +partners' private room and the outer office in which Stoner sat, there +was a little window in the wall; it had been specially made so that +papers could be passed from one room to the other. And, of course, on +that afternoon it had probably been a little way open, as it often was, +and Stoner had heard what passed between Cotherstone and his tenant. +Being a deep chap, Stoner had kept the secret to himself until the +reward was offered. Of course, his idea was blackmail--Mallalieu had no +doubt about that. No--all things considered, he did not believe that +Stoner had shared his knowledge--Stoner would be too well convinced of +its value to share it with anybody. That conclusion comforted +Mallalieu--once more he tried to sleep. + +But his sleep was a poor thing that night, and he felt tired and worn +when, as usual, he went early to the yard. He was there before +Cotherstone; when Cotherstone came, no more than a curt nod was +exchanged between them. They had never spoken to each other except on +business since the angry scene of a few days before, and now Mallalieu, +after a glance at some letters which had come in the previous evening, +went off down the yard. He stayed there an hour: when he re-entered the +office he looked with an affectation of surprise at the clerk's empty +desk. + +"Stoner not come?" he demanded curtly. + +Cotherstone, who was turning over the leaves of an account book, replied +just as curtly. + +"Not yet!" + +Mallalieu fidgeted about for a while, arranging some papers he had +brought in from the yard. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of +impatience, and going to the door, called to a lad who was passing. + +"Here, you!" he said. "You know where Mr. Stoner lodges?--Mrs. +Battley's. Run round there, and see why he hasn't come to his work. It's +an hour and a half past his time. Happen he's poorly--run now, sharp!" + +He went off down the yard again when he had despatched this message; he +came back to the office ten minutes later, just as the messenger +returned. + +"Well?" he demanded, with a side-glance to assure himself that +Cotherstone was at hand. "Where is he, like?" + +"Please, sir, Mrs. Battley, she says as how Mr. Stoner went away on +Saturday afternoon, sir," answered the lad, "and he hasn't been home +since. She thinks he went to Darlington, sir, on a visit." + +Mallalieu turned into the office, growling. + +"Must ha' missed his train," he muttered as he put more papers on +Stoner's desk. "Here--happen you'll attend to these things--they want +booking up." + +Cotherstone made no reply, and Mallalieu presently left him and went +home to get his breakfast. And as he walked up the road to his house he +wondered why Stoner had gone to Darlington. Was it possible that he had +communicated what he knew to any of his friends? If so---- + +"Confound the suspense and the uncertainty!" growled Mallalieu. "It 'ud +wear the life out of a man. I've a good mind to throw the whole thing up +and clear out! I could do it easy enough wi' my means. A clear +track--and no more o' this infernal anxiety." + +He reflected, as he made a poor show of eating his breakfast, on the +ease with which he could get away from Highmarket and from England. +Being a particularly astute man of business, Mallalieu had taken good +care that all his eggs were not in one basket. He had many baskets--his +Highmarket basket was by no means the principal one. Indeed all that +Mallalieu possessed in Highmarket was his share of the business and his +private house. As he had made his money he had invested it in easily +convertible, gilt-edged securities, which would be realized at an hour's +notice in London or New York, Paris or Vienna. It would be the easiest +thing in the world for him, as Mayor of Highmarket, to leave the town on +Corporation business, and within a few hours to be where nobody could +find him; within a few more, to be out of the country. Lately, he had +often thought of going right away, to enjoy himself for the rest of his +life. He had made one complete disappearance already; why not make +another? Before he went townwards again that morning, he was beginning +to give serious attention to the idea. + +Meanwhile, however, there was the business of the day to attend to, and +Stoner's absence threw additional work on the two partners. Then at +twelve o'clock, Mallalieu had to go over to the Town Hall to preside at +a meeting of the General Purposes Committee. That was just over, and he +was thinking of going home to his lunch when the superintendent of +police came into the committee-room and drew him aside. + +"I've bad news for you, Mr. Mayor," he announced in a whisper. "Your +clerk--he hasn't been at work this morning, I suppose?" + +"Well?" demanded Mallalieu, nerving himself for what he felt to be +coming. "What about it?" + +"He's met with a bad accident," replied the superintendent. "In fact, +sir, he's dead! A couple of men found his body an hour or so ago in +Hobwick Quarry, up on the moor, and it's been brought down to the +mortuary. You'd better come round, Mr. Mayor--Mr. Cotherstone's there, +now." + +Mallalieu followed without a word. But once outside the Town Hall he +turned to his companion. + +"Have you made aught out of it?" he asked. "He's been away, so his +landlady says, since Saturday afternoon: I sent round to inquire for him +when he didn't turn up this morning. What do you know, like?" + +"It looks as if it had been an accident," answered the superintendent. +"These men that found him noticed some broken railings at top of the +quarry. They looked down and saw a body. So they made their way down and +found--Stoner. It would seem as if he'd leaned or sat on the railings +and they'd given way beneath him, and of course he'd pitched headlong +into the quarry. It's fifty feet deep, Mr. Mayor! That's all one can +think of. But Dr. Rockcliffe's with him now." + +Mallalieu made a mighty effort to appear calm, as, with a grave and +concerned face, he followed his guide into the place where the doctor, +an official or two, and Cotherstone were grouped about the dead man. He +gave one glance at his partner and Cotherstone gave one swift look at +him--and there was something in Cotherstone's look which communicated a +sudden sense of uneasy fear to Mallalieu: it was a look of curious +intelligence, almost a sort of signal. And Mallalieu experienced a vague +feeling of dread as he turned to the doctor. + +"A bad job--a bad job!" he muttered, shaking his head and glancing +sideways at the body. "D'ye make aught out of it, doctor? Can you say +how it came about?" + +Dr. Rockcliffe pursed up his lips and his face became inscrutable. He +kept silence for a moment--when he spoke his voice was unusually stern. + +"The lad's neck is broken, and his spine's fractured," he said in a low +voice. "Either of those injuries was enough to cause death. But--look at +that!" + +He pointed to a contusion which showed itself with unmistakable +plainness on the dead man's left temple, and again he screwed up his +lips as if in disgust at some deed present only to the imagination. + +"That's a blow!" he said, more sternly than before. "A blow from some +blunt instrument! It was a savage blow, too, dealt with tremendous +force. It may--may, I say--have killed this poor fellow on the spot--he +may have been dead before ever he fell down that quarry." + +It was only by an enormous effort of will that Mallalieu prevented +himself from yielding to one of his shaking fits. + +"But--but mightn't he ha' got that with striking his head against them +rocks as he fell?" he suggested. "It's a rocky place, that, and the +rocks project, like, so----" + +"No!" said the doctor, doggedly. "That's no injury from any rock or +stone or projection. It's the result of a particularly fierce blow dealt +with great force by some blunt instrument--a life preserver, a club, a +heavy stick. It's no use arguing it. That's a certainty!" + +Cotherstone, who had kept quietly in the background, ventured a +suggestion. + +"Any signs of his having been robbed?" he asked. + +"No, sir," replied the superintendent promptly. "I've everything that +was on him. Not much, either. Watch and chain, half a sovereign, some +loose silver and copper, his pipe and tobacco, a pocket-book with a +letter or two and such-like in it--that's all. There'd been no robbery." + +"I suppose you took a look round?" asked Cotherstone. "See anything that +suggested a struggle? Or footprints? Or aught of that sort?" + +The superintendent shook his head. + +"Naught!" he answered. "I looked carefully at the ground round those +broken railings. But it's the sort of ground that wouldn't show +footprints, you know--covered with that short, wiry mountain grass that +shows nothing." + +"And nothing was found?" asked Mallalieu. "No weapons, eh?" + +For the life of him he could not resist asking that--his anxiety about +the stick was overmastering him. And when the superintendent and the two +policemen who had been with him up to Hobwick Quarry had answered that +they had found nothing at all, he had hard work to repress a sigh of +relief. He presently went away hoping that the oak stick had fallen into +a crevice of the rocks or amongst the brambles which grew out of them; +there was a lot of tangle-wood about that spot, and it was quite +possible that the stick, kicked violently away, had fallen where it +would never be discovered. And--there was yet a chance for him to make +that possible discovery impossible. Now that the body had been found, he +himself could visit the spot with safety, on the pretext of curiosity. +He could look round; if he found the stick he could drop it into a safe +fissure of the rocks, or make away with it. It was a good notion--and +instead of going home to lunch Mallalieu turned into a private room of +the Highmarket Arms, ate a sandwich and drank a glass of ale, and +hurried off, alone, to the moors. + +The news of this second mysterious death flew round Highmarket and the +neighbourhood like wild-fire. Brereton heard of it during the afternoon, +and having some business in the town in connexion with Harborough's +defence, he looked in at the police-station and found the superintendent +in an unusually grave and glum mood. + +"This sort of thing's getting beyond me, Mr. Brereton," he said in a +whisper. "Whether it is that I'm not used to such things--thank God! +we've had little experience of violence in this place in my time!--or +what it is, but I've got it into my head that this poor young fellow's +death's connected in some way with Kitely's affair! I have indeed, +sir!--it's been bothering me all the afternoon. For all the +doctors--there's been several of 'em in during the last two hours--are +absolutely agreed that Stoner was felled, sir--felled by a savage blow, +and they say he may ha' been dead before ever he fell over that quarry +edge. Mr. Brereton--I misdoubt it's another murder!" + +"Have you anything to go on?" asked Brereton. "Had anybody any motive? +Was there any love affair--jealousy, you know--anything of that sort?" + +"No, I'm sure there wasn't," replied the superintendent. "The whole town +and county's ringing with the news, and I should ha' heard something by +now. And it wasn't robbery--not that he'd much on him, poor fellow! +There's all he had," he went on, opening a drawer. "You can look at 'em, +if you like." + +He left the room just then, and Brereton, disregarding the cheap watch +and chain and the pigskin purse with its light load, opened Stoner's +pocket-book. There was not much in that, either--a letter or two, some +receipted bills, a couple of much creased copies of the reward bill, +some cuttings from newspapers. He turned from these to the pocket-book +itself, and on the last written page he found an entry which made him +start. For there again were the initials! + +"--_M. & C._--_fraud_--_bldg. soc._--_Wilchester +Assizes_--_81_--_L2000_--money never recovered--2 yrs.--K. _pres._" + +Not much--but Brereton hastily copied that entry. And he had just +written the last word when the superintendent came back into the room +with a man who was in railway uniform. + +"Come in here," the superintendent was saying. "You can tell me what it +is before this gentleman. Some news from High Gill junction, Mr. +Brereton," he went on, "something about Stoner. Well, my lad, what is +it?" + +"The station-master sent me over on his bicycle," replied the visitor. +"We heard over there this afternoon about Stoner's body being found, and +that you were thinking he must have fallen over into the quarry in the +darkness. And we know over yonder that that's not likely." + +"Aye?" said the superintendent. "Well, as a matter of fact, my lad, we +weren't thinking that, but no doubt that rumour's got out. Now why do +you railway folks know it isn't likely?" + +"That's what I've come to tell," answered the man, a sharp, +intelligent-looking fellow. "I'm ticket-collector over there, as you +know, sir. Now, young Stoner came to the junction on Saturday afternoon +and booked for Darlington, and of course went to Darlington. He came +back yesterday afternoon--Sunday--by the train that gets to our junction +at 3.3. I took his ticket. Instead of going out of the station by the +ordinary way, he got over the fence on the down line side, saying to me +that he'd take a straight cut across the moor to Highmarket. I saw him +going Highmarket way for some distance. And he'd be at Hobwick Quarry by +4.30 at the latest--long before darkness." + +"Just about sunset, as a matter of fact," remarked the superintendent. +"The sun sets about 4.18." + +"So he couldn't have fallen over in the darkness," continued the +ticket-collector. "If all had gone well with him, he'd have been down in +Highmarket here by dusk." + +"I'm obliged to you," said the superintendent. "It's worth knowing, of +course. Came from Darlington, eh? Was he alone?" + +"Quite alone, sir." + +"You didn't see anybody else going that way across the moors, did you? +Didn't notice anybody following him?" + +"No," replied the ticket-collector with decision. "Me and one of my +mates watched him a long way, and I'll swear there was no one near him +till he was out of sight. We didn't watch him on purpose, neither. When +the down-train had gone, me and my mate sat down to smoke our pipes, and +from where we were we could see right across the moors in this +direction. We saw Stoner--now and then, you understand--right away to +Chat Bank." + +"You didn't notice any suspicious characters come to your station that +afternoon or evening?" asked the superintendent. + +The ticket-collector replied that nothing of that sort had been seen, +and he presently went away. And Brereton, after an unimportant word or +two, went away too, certain by that time that the death of Stoner had +some sinister connexion with the murder of Kitely. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE SCRAP BOOK + + +Brereton went back to his friend's house more puzzled than ever by the +similarity of the entries in Kitely's memoranda and in Stoner's +pocket-book. Bent had gone over to Norcaster that afternoon, on +business, and was not to be home until late in the evening: Brereton +accordingly dined alone and had ample time to reflect and to think. The +reflecting and the thinking largely took the form of speculating--on the +fact that certain terms and figures which had been set down by Kitely +had also been set down by Stoner. There were the initials--M. & C. There +was a date--if it was a date--81. What in Kitely's memorandum the +initials S. B. might mean, it was useless to guess at. His memorandum, +indeed, was as cryptic as an Egyptian hieroglyph. But Stoner's +memorandum was fuller, more explicit. The M. & C. of the Kitely entry +had been expanded to Mallows and Chidforth. The entry "fraud" and the +other entries "Wilchester Assizes" and the supplementary words, clearly +implied that two men named Mallows and Chidforth were prosecuted at +Wilchester Assizes in the year 1881 for fraud, that a sum of L2,000 was +involved, which was never recovered, that Mallows and Chidforth, +whoever they were, were convicted and were sentenced to two years' +imprisonment. So much for Stoner's memorandum. But did it refer to the +same event to which Kitely made reference in his memorandum? It seemed +highly probable that it did. It seemed highly probable, too, that the M. +& C. of Kitely's entry were the Mallows & Chidforth of Stoner's. And now +the problem narrowed to one most serious and crucial point--were the +Mallows and Chidforth of these references the Mallalieu and Cotherstone +of Highmarket. + +Speculating on this possibility, Brereton after his solitary dinner went +into Bent's smoking-room, and throwing himself into a chair before the +fire, lighted his pipe and proceeded to think things out. It was +abundantly clear to him by that time that Kitely and Stoner had been in +possession of a secret: it seemed certain that both had been murdered by +some person who desired to silence them. There was no possible doubt as +to Kitely's murder: from what Brereton had heard that afternoon there +seemed to be just as little doubt that Stoner had also been murdered. He +had heard what the local medical men had to say--one and all agreed that +though the clerk had received injuries in his fall which would produce +almost instantaneous death he had received a mortal blow before he fell. +Who struck that blow? Everything seemed to point to the fact that the +man who struck it was the man who strangled Kitely--a man of great +muscular power. + +Glancing around the room as he sat in a big easy chair, his hands behind +his head, Brereton's eyes fell suddenly on Kitely's legacy to Windle +Bent. The queer-looking old volume which, because of its black calf +binding and brass clasp, might easily have been taken for a prayer-book, +lay just where Bent had set it down on his desk when Christopher Pett +formally handed it over--so far as Brereton knew Bent up to now had +never even opened it. And it was with no particular motive that Brereton +now reached out and picked it up, and unsnapping the clasp began idly to +turn over the leaves on which the old detective had pasted cuttings from +newspapers and made entries in his crabbed handwriting. Brereton +believed that he was idly handling what Pett had jocosely described the +book to be--a mere scrap-book. It never entered his head that he held in +his hands almost the whole solution of the mystery which was puzzling +him. + +No man knows how inspiration comes to him, and Brereton never knew how +it was that suddenly, in the flash of an eye, in the swiftness of +thought, he knew that he had found what he wanted. Suggestion might have +had something to do with it. Kitely had written the word _Scrap-book_ on +the first blank page. Afterwards, at the tops of pages, he had filled in +dates in big figures--for reference--1875--1879--1887--and so on. And +Brereton suddenly saw, and understood, and realized. The cryptic entry +in Kitely's pocket-book became plain as the plainest print. _M. & C. v. +S. B. cir. 81_:--Brereton could amplify that now. Kitely, like all men +who dabble in antiquarian pursuits, knew a bit of Latin, and naturally +made an occasional airing of his knowledge. The full entry, of course, +meant M. &. C. _vide_ (=see) Scrap-Book _circa_ (=about) 1881. + +With a sharp exclamation of delight, Brereton turned over the pages of +that queer record of crime and detection until he came to one over which +the figure 1881 stood out boldly. A turn or two more of pages, and he +had found what he wanted. There it was--a long cutting from what was +evidently a local newspaper--a cutting which extended over two or three +leaves of the book--and at the end a memorandum in Kitely's handwriting, +evidently made some years before. The editor of that local newspaper had +considered the case which Kitely had so carefully scissored from his +columns worthy of four headlines in big capitals:-- + + + THE BUILDING SOCIETY DEFALCATIONS MALLOWS AND CHIDFORTH AT THE + WILCHESTER ASSIZES VERDICT AND SENTENCE + + +Brereton settled down to a careful reading of the report. There was +really nothing very remarkable about it--nothing exciting nor +sensational. It was indeed no more than a humdrum narrative of a vulgar +crime. But it was necessary that he should know all about it, and be +able to summarize it, and so he read it over with unusual care. It was a +very plain story--there were no complications. It appeared from the +evidence adduced that for some time previous to 1881 there had been in +existence in Wilchester a building society, the members of which were +chiefly of the small tradesman and better-class working-man order. Its +chief officials for a year or two had been John Mallows and Mark +Chidforth, who were respectively treasurer and secretary. Mallows was +foreman to a builder in the town; Chidforth was clerk to the same +employer. Both were young men. They were evidently regarded as smart +fellows. Up to the time of the revelations they had borne the very best +of characters. Each had lived in Wilchester since childhood; each had +continued his education at night schools and institute classes after the +usual elementary school days were over; each was credited with an +ambitious desire to rise in the world. Each, as a young man, was +attached to religious organizations--Mallows was a sidesman at one of +the churches, Chidforth was a Sunday-school teacher at one of the +chapels. Both had been fully and firmly trusted, and it appeared from +the evidence that they had had what practically amounted to unsupervised +control of the building society's funds. And--the really important +point--there was no doubt whatever that they had helped themselves to +some two thousand pounds of their fellow-members' money. + +All this was clear enough: it took little time for Brereton to acquaint +himself with these facts. What was not so clear was the whereabouts or +disposal of the money. From the evidence there appeared to be two +conflicting notions current in Wilchester at the time. Some people +apparently believed confidently that the two culprits had lost the money +in secret speculation and in gambling: other people were just as certain +that they had quietly put the money away in some safe quarter. The +prisoners themselves absolutely refused to give the least scrap of +information: ever since their arrest they had maintained a stolid +silence and a defiant demeanour. More than once during the progress of +the trial they had opportunities of making clean breasts of their +misdoings and refused to take them. Found guilty, they were put back +until next day for sentence--that, of course, was to give them another +chance of saying what they had done with the money. But they had kept up +their silence to the end, and they had been sentenced to two years' +imprisonment, with hard labour, and so had disappeared from public view, +with their secret--if there really was a secret--intact. + +So much for the newspaper cutting from the _Wilchester Sentinel_. But +there was more to read. The cutting came to an end on the top half of a +page in the scrap-book; underneath it on the blank half of the page +Kitely had made an entry, dated three years after the trial. + +"Wilchester: June 28, 1884. _Re_ above. Came down here on business today +and had a talk with police about M. & C. and the money. M. & C. never +been heard of since their release. Were released at same time, and seen +in the town an hour or two later, after which they disappeared--a man +who spoke to M. says that M. told him they were going to emigrate. They +are believed to have gone to Argentine. Both had relatives in +Wilchester, but either they don't know anything of M. & C.'s subsequent +doings, or they keep silence. No further trace of money, and opinion +still divided as to what they really did with it: many people in W. +firmly convinced that they had it safely planted, and have gone to it." + +To Brereton the whole affair was now as plain as a pikestaff. The old +detective, accidentally settling down at Highmarket, had recognized +Mallalieu and Cotherstone, the prosperous tradesmen of that little, +out-of-the-way town, as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had seen in +the dock at Wilchester, and he had revealed his knowledge to one or the +other or both. That was certain. But there were many things that were +far from certain. What had happened when Kitely revealed himself as a +man who had been a witness of their conviction in those far-off days? +How had he revealed himself? Had he endeavoured to blackmail them? It +was possible. + +But there was still more to think over. How had the dead clerk, Stoner, +got his knowledge of this great event in the life of his employers? Had +he got it from Kitely? That was not likely. Yet Stoner had written down +in his pocket-book an entry which was no more and no less than a +_precis_ of the absolute facts. Somehow, somewhere, Stoner had made +himself fully acquainted with Mallalieu and Cotherstone's secret. Did +Stoner's death arise out of a knowledge of that secret? On the face of +things there could be little doubt that it did. Who, then, struck the +blow which killed Stoner, or, if it did not actually kill him, caused +his death by bringing about the fall which broke his neck? Was it +Mallalieu?--or was it Cotherstone? + +That one or other, or both, were guilty of Kitely's murder, and possibly +of Stoner's, Brereton was by that time absolutely certain. And +realizing that certainty, he felt himself placed in a predicament which +could not fail to be painful. It was his duty, as counsel for an +innocent man, to press to the full his inquiries into the conduct of men +whom he believed to be guilty. In this he was faced with an unpleasant +situation. He cared nothing about Mallalieu. If Mallalieu was a guilty +man, let Mallalieu pay the richly-deserved consequences of his misdeeds. +Brereton, without being indifferent or vindictive or callous, knew that +it would not give him one extra heart-throb if he heard Mallalieu found +guilty and sentenced to the gallows. But Cotherstone was the father of +the girl to whom Windle Bent was shortly to be married--and Bent and +Brereton had been close friends ever since they first went to school +together. + +It was a sad situation, an unpleasant thing to face. He had come on a +visit to Bent, he had prolonged that visit in order to defend a man whom +he firmly believed to be as innocent as a child--and now he was to bring +disgrace and shame on a family with whom his host and friend was soon to +be allied by the closest of ties. But--better that than that an innocent +man should suffer! And walking up and down Bent's smoking-room, and +thinking the whole thing through and through, he half made up his mind +to tell Bent all about it when he returned. + +Brereton presently put on hat and coat and left the house. It was then +half-past seven; a sharp, frosty November evening, with an almost full +moon rising in a clear, star-sprinkled sky. The sudden change from the +warmth of the house to the frost-laden atmosphere of the hillside +quickened his mental faculties; he lighted his pipe, and resolved to +take a brisk walk along the road which led out of Highmarket and to +occupy himself with another review of the situation. A walk in the +country by day or night and in solitude had always had attractions for +Brereton and he set out on this with zest. But he had not gone a hundred +yards in the direction of the moors when Avice Harborough came out of +the gate of Northrop's garden and met him. + +"I was coming to see you," she said quietly. "I have heard something +that I thought you ought to hear, too--at once." + +"Yes?" responded Brereton. + +Avice drew an envelope from her muff and gave it to him. + +"A boy brought that to me half an hour ago," she said. "It is from an +old woman, Mrs. Hamthwaite, who lives in a very lonely place on the +moors up above Hobwick Quarry. Can you read it in this light?" + +"I will," answered Brereton, drawing a scrap of paper from the envelope. +"Here," he went on, giving it back to Avice, "you hold it, and I'll +strike a match--the moonlight's scarcely strong enough. Now," he +continued, taking a box of vestas from his pocket and striking one, +"steady--'If Miss Harborough will come up to see Susan Hamthwaite I will +tell you something that you might like to know.' Ah!" he exclaimed, +throwing away the match. "Now, how far is it to this old woman's +cottage?" + +"Two miles," replied Avice. + +"Can you go there now?" he asked. + +"I thought of doing so," she answered. + +"Come along, then," said Brereton. "We'll go together. If she objects to +my presence I'll leave you with her and wait about for you. Of course, +she wants to tell you something relating to your father." + +"You think so?" said Avice. "I only hope it is!" + +"Certain to be," he replied. "What else could it be?" + +"There are so many strange things to tell about, just now," she +remarked. "Besides, if old Mrs. Hamthwaite knows anything, why hasn't +she let me know until tonight?" + +"Oh, there's no accounting for that!" said Brereton. "Old women have +their own way of doing things. By the by," he continued, as they turned +out of the road and began to climb a path which led to the first ridge +of the moors outside the town, "I haven't seen you today--you've heard +of this Stoner affair?" + +"Mr. Northrop told me this afternoon," she replied. "What do you think +about it?" + +Brereton walked on a little way without replying. He was asking a +serious question of himself. Should he tell all he knew to Avice +Harborough? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A TALL MAN IN GREY CLOTHES + + +That question remained unanswered, and Brereton remained silent, until +he and Avice had reached the top of the path and had come out on the +edge of the wide stretch of moorland above the little town. He paused +for a moment and looked back on the roofs and gables of Highmarket, +shining and glittering in the moonlight; the girl paused too, wondering +at his silence. And with a curious abruptness he suddenly turned, laid a +hand on her arm, and gave it a firm, quick pressure. + +"Look here!" he said. "I'm going to trust you. I'm going to say to you +what I haven't said to a soul in that town!--not even to Tallington, +who's a man of the law, nor to Bent, who's my old friend. I want to say +something to somebody whom I can trust. I can trust you!" + +"Thank you," she answered quietly. "I--I think I understand. And you'll +understand, too, won't you, when I say--you can!" + +"That's all right," he said, cheerfully. "Of course! Now we understand +each other. Come on, then--you know the way--act as guide, and I'll tell +you as we go along." + +Avice turned off into what appeared to be no more than a sheep-track +across the heather. Within a few minutes they were not only quite alone, +but out of sight of any human habitation. It seemed to Brereton that +they were suddenly shut into a world of their own, as utterly apart from +the little world they had just left as one star is from another. But +even as he thought this he saw, far away across the rising and falling +of the heather-clad undulations, the moving lights of a train that was +speeding southward along the coast-line from Norcaster, and presently +the long scream of a whistle from its engine came on the light breeze +that blew inland from the hidden sea, and the sight and sound recalled +him to the stern realities of life. + +"Listen, then, carefully," he began. "And bear in mind that I'm putting +what I believe to be safety of other men in your hands. It's this +way...." + +Avice Harborough listened in absolute silence as Brereton told her his +carefully arranged story. They walked slowly across the moor as he told +it; now dipping into a valley, now rising above the ridge of a low hill; +sometimes pausing altogether as he impressed some particular point upon +her. In the moonlight he could see that she was listening eagerly and +intently, but she never interrupted him and never asked a question. And +at last, just as they came in sight of a light that burned in the window +of a little moorland cottage, snugly planted in a hollow beneath the +ridge which they were then traversing, he brought his story to an end +and turned inquiringly to her. + +"There!" he said. "That's all. Now try to consider it without +prejudice--if you can. How does it appear to you?" + +Instead of replying directly the girl walked on in silence for a moment +or two, and suddenly turned to Brereton with an impulsive movement. + +"You've given me your confidence and I'll give you mine!" she exclaimed. +"Perhaps I ought to have given it before--to you or to Mr. +Tallington--but--I didn't like. I've wondered about Mallalieu! Wondered +if--if he did kill that old man. And wondered if he tried to put the +blame on my father out of revenge!" + +"Revenge!" exclaimed Brereton. "What do you mean?" + +"My father offended him--not so very long ago, either," she answered. +"Last year--I'll tell you it all, plainly--Mr. Mallalieu began coming to +our cottage at times. First he came to see my father about killing the +rats which had got into his out-buildings. Then he made excuses--he used +to come, any way--at night. He began to come when my father was out, as +he often was. He would sit down and smoke and talk. I didn't like it--I +don't like him. Then he used to meet me in the wood in the Shawl, as I +came home from the Northrops'. I complained to my father about it and +one night my father came in and found him here. My father, Mr. Brereton, +is a very queer man and a very plain-spoken man. He told Mr. Mallalieu +that neither of us desired his company and told him to go away. And Mr. +Mallalieu lost his temper and said angry things." + +"And your father?" said Brereton. "Did he lose his temper, too?" + +"No!" replied Avice. "He has a temper--but he kept it that night. He +never spoke to Mr. Mallalieu in return. He let him say his say--until +he'd got across the threshold, and then he just shut the door on him. +But--I know how angry Mr. Mallalieu was." + +Brereton stood silently considering matters for a moment. Then he +pointed to the light in the window beneath them, and moved towards it. + +"I'm glad you told me that," he said. "It may account for something +that's puzzled me a great deal--I must think it out. But at present--is +that the old woman's lamp?" + +Avice led the way down to the hollow by a narrow path which took them +into a little stone-walled enclosure where a single Scotch fir-tree +stood sentinel over a typical moorland homestead of the smaller sort--a +one-storied house of rough stone, the roof of which was secured from +storm and tempest by great boulders slung on stout ropes, and having +built on to it an equally rough shelter for some small stock of cows and +sheep. Out of a sheer habit of reflection on things newly seen, Brereton +could not avoid wondering what life was like, lived in this solitude, +and in such a perfect hermitage--but his speculations were cut short by +the opening of the door set deep within the whitewashed porch. An old +woman, much bent by age, looked out upon him and Avice, holding a small +lamp so that its light fell on their faces. + +"Come your ways in, joy!" she said hospitably. "I was expecting you'd +come up tonight: I knew you'd want to have a word with me as soon as +you could. Come in and sit you down by the fire--it's coldish o' nights, +to be sure, and there's frost in the air. + +"This gentleman may come in, too, mayn't he, Mrs. Hamthwaite?" asked +Avice as she and Brereton stepped within the porch. "He's the +lawyer-gentleman who's defending my father--you won't mind speaking +before him, will you?" + +"Neither before him, nor behind him, nor yet to him," answered Mrs. +Hamthwaite with a chuckle. "I've talked to lawyers afore today, many's +the time! Come your ways in, sir--sit you down." + +She carefully closed the door on her guests and motioned them to seats +by a bright fire of turf, and then setting the lamp on the table, seated +herself in a corner of her long-settle and folding her hands in her +apron took a long look at her visitors through a pair of unusually large +spectacles. And Brereton, genuinely interested, took an equally long +look at her; and saw a woman who was obviously very old but whose face +was eager, intelligent, and even vivacious. As this queer old face +turned from one to the other, its wrinkles smoothed out into a smile. + +"You'll be wondering what I've got to tell, love," said Mrs. Hamthwaite, +turning to Avice. "And no doubt you want to know why I haven't sent for +you before now. But you see, since that affair happened down your way, I +been away. Aye, I been to see my daughter--as lives up the coast. And I +didn't come home till today. And I'm no hand at writing letters. However +here we are, and better late than never and no doubt this lawyer +gentleman'll be glad to hear what I can tell him and you." + +"Very glad indeed!" responded Brereton. "What is it?" + +The old woman turned to a box which stood in a recess in the ingle-nook +at her elbow and took from it a folded newspaper. + +"Me and my daughter and her husband read this here account o' the case +against Harborough as it was put before the magistrates," she said. "We +studied it. Now you want to know where Harborough was on the night that +old fellow was done away with. That's it, master, what?" + +"That is it," answered Brereton, pressing his arm against Avice, who sat +close at his side. "Yes, indeed! And you----" + +"I can tell you where Harborough was between nine o'clock and ten +o'clock that night," replied Mrs. Hamthwaite, with a smile that was not +devoid of cunning. "I know, if nobody else knows!" + +"Where, then?" demanded Brereton. + +The old woman leaned forward across the hearth. + +"Up here on the moor!" she whispered. "Not five minutes' walk from here. +At a bit of a place--Miss there'll know it--called Good Folks' Lift. A +little rise i' the ground where the fairies used to dance, you know, +master." + +"You saw him?" asked Brereton. + +"I saw him," chuckled Mrs. Hamthwaite. "And if I don't know him, why +then, his own daughter doesn't!" + +"You'd better tell us all about it," said Brereton. + +Mrs. Hamthwaite gave him a sharp look. "I've given evidence to law folks +before today," she said. "You'll want to know what I could tell before a +judge, like?" + +"Of course," replied Brereton. + +"Well, then----" she continued. "You see, master, since my old man died, +I've lived all alone up here. I've a bit to live on--not over much, but +enough. All the same, if I can save a bit by getting a hare or a rabbit, +or a bird or two now and then, off the moor--well, I do! We all of us +does that, as lives on the moor: some folks calls it poaching, but we +call it taking our own. Now then, on that night we're talking about, I +went along to Good Folks' Lift to look at some snares I'd set early that +day. There's a good deal of bush and scrub about that place--I was +amongst the bushes when I heard steps, and I looked out and saw a tall +man in grey clothes coming close by. How did I know he were in grey +clothes? Why, 'cause he stopped close by me to light his pipe! But he'd +his back to me, so I didn't see his full face, only a side of it. He +were a man with a thin, greyish beard. Well, he walks past there, not +far--and then I heard other steps. Then I heard your father's voice, +miss--and I see the two of 'em meet. They stood, whispering together, +for a minute or so--then they came back past me, and they went off +across the moor towards Hexendale. And soon they were out of sight, and +when I'd finished what I was after I came my ways home. That's all, +master--but if yon old man was killed down in Highmarket Shawl Wood +between nine and ten o'clock that night, then Jack Harborough didn't +kill him, for Jack was up here at soon after nine, and him and the tall +man went away in the opposite direction!" + +"You're sure about the time?" asked Brereton anxiously. + +"Certain, master! It was ten minutes to nine when I went out--nearly ten +when I come back. My clock's always right--I set it by the almanack and +the sunrise and sunset every day--and you can't do better," asserted +Mrs. Hamthwaite. + +"You're equally sure about the second man being Harborough?" insisted +Brereton. "You couldn't be mistaken?" + +"Mistaken? No!--master, I know Harborough's voice, and his figure, aye, +and his step as well as I know my own fireside," declared Mrs. +Hamthwaite. "Of course I know it were Harborough--no doubt on't!" + +"How are you sure that this was the evening of the murder?" asked +Brereton. "Can you prove that it was?" + +"Easy!" said Mrs. Hamthwaite. "The very next morning I went away to see +my daughter up the coast. I heard of the old man's murder at High Gill +Junction. But I didn't hear then that Harborough was suspected--didn't +hear that till later on, when we read it in the newspapers." + +"And the other man--the tall man in grey clothes, who has a slightly +grey beard--you didn't know him?" + +Mrs. Hamthwaite made a face which seemed to suggest uncertainty. + +"Well, I'll tell you," she answered. "I believe him to be a man that I +have seen about this here neighbourhood two or three times during this +last eighteen months or so. If you really want to know, I'm a good deal +about them moors o' nights; old as I am, I'm very active, and I go about +a goodish bit--why not? And I have seen a man about now and then--months +between, as a rule--that I couldn't account for--and I believe it's this +fellow that was with Harborough." + +"And you say they went away in the direction of Hexendale?" said +Brereton. "Where is Hexendale?" + +The old woman pointed westward. + +"Inland," she answered. "Over yonder. Miss there knows Hexendale well +enough." + +"Hexendale is a valley--with a village of the same name in it--that lies +about five miles away on the other side of the moors," said Avice. +"There's another line of railway there--this man Mrs. Hamthwaite speaks +of could come and go by that." + +"Well," remarked Brereton presently, "we're very much obliged to you, +ma'am, and I'm sure you won't have any objection to telling all this +again at the proper time and place, eh?" + +"Eh, bless you, no!" answered Mrs. Hamthwaite. "I'll tell it wherever +you like, master--before Lawyer Tallington, or the magistrates, or the +crowner, or anybody! But I'll tell you what, if you'll take a bit of +advice from an old woman--you're a sharp-looking young man, and I'll +tell you what I should do if I were in your place--now then!" + +"Well, what?" asked Brereton good-humouredly. + +Mrs. Hamthwaite clapped him on the shoulder as she opened the door for +her visitors. + +"Find that tall man in the grey clothes!" she said. "Get hold of him! +He's the chap you want!" + +Brereton went silently away, meditating on the old woman's last words. + +"But where are we to find him?" he suddenly exclaimed. "Who is he?" + +"I don't think that puzzles me," remarked Avice. "He's the man who sent +the nine hundred pounds." + +Brereton smote his stick on the heather at their feet. + +"By George!--I never thought of that!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't +wonder!--I shouldn't wonder at all. Hooray!--we're getting nearer and +nearer to something." + +But he knew that still another step was at hand--an unpleasant, painful +step--when, on getting back to Bent's, an hour later, Bent told him that +Lettie had been cajoled into fixing the day of the wedding, and that the +ceremony was to take place with the utmost privacy that day week. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +AT BAY + + +It was only by an immense effort of will that Brereton prevented an +exclamation and a start of surprise. But of late he had been perpetually +on the look-out for all sorts of unforeseen happenings and he managed to +do no more than show a little natural astonishment. + +"What, so soon!" he said. "Dear me, old chap!--I didn't think of its +being this side of Christmas." + +"Cotherstone's set on it," answered Bent. "He seems to be turning into a +regular hypochondriac. I hope nothing is really seriously wrong with +him. But anyway--this day week. And you'll play your part of best man, +of course." + +"Oh, of course!" agreed Brereton. "And then--are you going away?" + +"Yes, but not for as long as we'd meant," said Bent. "We'll run down to +the Riviera for a few weeks--I've made all my arrangements today. Well, +any fresh news about this last bad business? This Stoner affair, of +course, has upset Cotherstone dreadfully. When is all this mystery +coming to an end, Brereton? There is one thing dead certain--Harborough +isn't guilty in this case. That is, if Stoner really was killed by the +blow they talk of." + +But Brereton refused to discuss matters that night. He pleaded fatigue, +he had been at it all day long, he said, and his brain was confused and +tired and needed rest. And presently he went off to his room--and when +he got there he let out a groan of dismay. For one thing was +imperative--Bent's marriage must not take place while there was the +least chance of a terrible charge being suddenly let loose on +Cotherstone. + +He rose in the morning with his mind made up on the matter. There was +but one course to adopt--and it must be adopted immediately. Cotherstone +must be spoken to--Cotherstone must be told of what some people at any +rate knew about him and his antecedents. Let him have a chance to +explain himself. After all, he might have some explanation. But--and +here Brereton's determination became fixed and stern--it must be +insisted upon that he should tell Bent everything. + +Bent always went out very early in the morning, to give an eye to his +business, and he usually breakfasted at his office. That was one of the +mornings on which he did not come back to the house, and Brereton +accordingly breakfasted alone, and had not seen his host when he, too, +set out for the town. He had already decided what to do--he would tell +everything to Tallington. Tallington was a middle-aged man of a great +reputation for common-sense and for probity; as a native of the town, +and a dweller in it all his life, he knew Cotherstone well, and he would +give sound advice as to what methods should be followed in dealing with +him. And so to Tallington Brereton, arriving just after the solicitor +had finished reading his morning's letters, poured out the whole story +which he had learned from the ex-detective's scrap-book and from the +memorandum made by Stoner in his pocket-book. + +Tallington listened with absorbed attention, his face growing graver and +graver as Brereton marshalled the facts and laid stress on one point of +evidence after another. He was a good listener--a steady, watchful +listener--Brereton saw that he was not only taking in every fact and +noting every point, but was also weighing up the mass of testimony. And +when the story came to its end he spoke with decision, spoke, too, just +as Brereton expected he would, making no comment, offering no opinion, +but going straight to the really critical thing. + +"There are only two things to be done," said Tallington. "They're the +only things that can be done. We must send for Bent, and tell him. Then +we must get Cotherstone here, and tell him. No other course--none!" + +"Bent first?" asked Brereton. + +"Certainly! Bent first, by all means. It's due to him. Besides," said +Tallington, with a grim smile, "it would be decidedly unpleasant for +Cotherstone to compel him to tell Bent, or for us to tell Bent in +Cotherstone's presence. And--we'd better get to work at once, Brereton! +Otherwise--this will get out in another way." + +"You mean--through the police?" said Brereton. + +"Surely!" replied Tallington. "This can't be kept in a corner. For +anything we know somebody may be at work, raking it all up, just now. Do +you suppose that unfortunate lad Stoner kept his knowledge to himself? +I don't! No--at once! Come, Bent's office is only a minute away--I'll +send one of my clerks for him. Painful, very--but necessary." + +The first thing that Bent's eyes encountered when he entered +Tallington's private room ten minutes later was the black-bound, +brass-clasped scrap-book, which Brereton had carried down with him and +had set on the solicitor's desk. He started at the sight of it, and +turned quickly from one man to the other. + +"What's that doing here?" he asked, "is--have you made some discovery? +Why am I wanted?" + +Once more Brereton had to go through the story. But his new listener did +not receive it in the calm and phlegmatic fashion in which it had been +received by the practised ear of the man of law. Bent was at first +utterly incredulous; then indignant: he interrupted; he asked questions +which he evidently believed to be difficult to answer; he was +fighting--and both his companions, sympathizing keenly with him, knew +why. But they never relaxed their attitude, and in the end Bent looked +from one to the other with a cast-down countenance in which doubt was +beginning to change into certainty. + +"You're convinced of--all this?" he demanded suddenly. "Both of you? +It's your conviction?" + +"It's mine," answered Tallington quietly. + +"I'd give a good deal for your sake, Bent, if it were not mine," said +Brereton. "But--it is mine. I'm--sure!" + +Bent jumped from his chair. + +"Which of them is it, then?" he exclaimed. "Gad!--you don't mean to say +that Cotherstone is--a murderer! Good heavens!--think of what that would +mean to--to----" + +Tallington got up and laid a hand on Bent's arm. + +"We won't say or think anything until we hear what Cotherstone has to +say," he said. "I'll step along the street and fetch him, myself. I know +he'll be alone just now, because I saw Mallalieu go into the Town Hall +ten minutes ago--there's an important committee meeting there this +morning over which he has to preside. Pull yourself together, +Bent--Cotherstone may have some explanation of everything." + +Mallalieu & Cotherstone's office was only a few yards away along the +street; Tallington was back from it with Cotherstone in five minutes. +And Brereton, looking closely at Cotherstone as he entered and saw who +awaited him, was certain that Cotherstone was ready for anything. A +sudden gleam of understanding came into his sharp eyes; it was as if he +said to himself that here was a moment, a situation, a crisis, which he +had anticipated, and--he was prepared. It was an outwardly calm and cool +Cotherstone, who, with a quick glance at all three men and at the closed +door, took the chair which Tallington handed to him, and turned on the +solicitor with a single word. + +"Well?" + +"As I told you in coming along," said Tallington, "we want to speak to +you privately about some information which has been placed in our +hands--that is, of course, in Mr. Brereton's and in mine. We have +thought it well to already acquaint Mr. Bent with it. All this is +between ourselves, Mr. Cotherstone--so treat us as candidly as we'll +treat you. I can put everything to you in a few words. They're painful. +Are you and your partner, Mr. Mallalieu, the same persons as the +Chidforth and Mallows who were prosecuted for fraud at Wilchester +Assizes in 1881 and sentenced to two years' imprisonment?" + +Cotherstone neither started nor flinched. There was no sign of weakness +nor of hesitation about him now. Instead, he seemed to have suddenly +recovered all the sharpness and vigour with which two at any rate of the +three men who were so intently watching him had always associated with +him. He sat erect and watchful in his chair, and his voice became clear +and strong. + +"Before I answer that question, Mr. Tallington," he said, "I'll ask one +of Mr. Bent here. It's this--is my daughter going to suffer from aught +that may or may not be raked up against her father? Let me know +that!--if you want any words from me." + +Bent flushed angrily. + +"You ought to know what my answer is!" he exclaimed. "It's no!" + +"That'll do!" said Cotherstone. "I know you--you're a man of your word." +He turned to Tallington. "Now I'll reply to you," he went on. "My +answer's in one word, too. Yes!" + +Tallington opened Kitely's scrap-book at the account of the trial at +Wilchester, placed it before Cotherstone, and indicated certain lines +with the point of a pencil. + +"You're the Chidforth mentioned there?" he asked quietly. "And your +partner's the Mallows?" + +"That's so," replied Cotherstone, so imperturbably that all three looked +at him in astonishment. "That's quite so, Mr. Tallington." + +"And this is an accurate report of what happened?" asked Tallington, +trailing the pencil over the newspaper. "That is, as far as you can see +at a glance?" + +"Oh, I daresay it is," said Cotherstone, airily. "That was the best +paper in the town--I daresay it's all right. Looks so, anyway." + +"You know that Kitely was present at that trial?" suggested Tallington, +who, like Brereton, was beginning to be mystified by Cotherstone's +coolness. + +"Well," answered Cotherstone, with a shake of his head, "I know now. But +I never did know until that afternoon of the day on which the old man +was murdered. If you're wanting the truth, he came into our office that +afternoon to pay his rent to me, and he told me then. And--if you want +more truth--he tried to blackmail me. He was to come next day--at four +o'clock--to hear what me and Mallalieu 'ud offer him for hush-money." + +"Then you told Mallalieu?" asked Tallington. + +"Of course I told him!" replied Cotherstone. "Told him as soon as Kitely +had gone. It was a facer for both of us--to be recognized, and to have +all that thrown up against us, after thirty years' honest work!" + +The three listeners looked silently at each other. A moment of suspence +passed. Then Tallington put the question which all three were burning +with eagerness to have answered. + +"Mr. Cotherstone!--do you know who killed Kitely?" + +"No!" answered Cotherstone. "But I know who I think killed him!" + +"Who, then?" demanded Tallington. + +"The man who killed Bert Stoner," said Cotherstone firmly. "And for the +same reason." + +"And this man is----" + +Tallington left the question unfinished. For Cotherstone's alert face +took a new and determined expression, and he raised himself a little in +his chair and brought his lifted hand down heavily on the desk at his +side. + +"Mallalieu!" he exclaimed. "Mallalieu! I believe he killed Kitely. I +suspicioned it from the first, and I came certain of it on Sunday night. +Why? _Because I saw Mallalieu fell Stoner!_" + +There was a dead silence in the room for a long, painful minute. +Tallington broke it at last by repeating Cotherstone's last words. + +"You saw Mallalieu fell Stoner? Yourself?" + +"With these eyes! Look here!" exclaimed Cotherstone, again bringing his +hand down heavily on the desk. "I went up there by Hobwick Quarry on +Sunday afternoon--to do a bit of thinking. As I got to that spinney at +the edge of the quarry, I saw Mallalieu and our clerk. They were +fratching--quarrelling--I could hear 'em as well as see 'em. And I +slipped behind a big bush and waited and watched. I could see and hear, +even at thirty yards off, that Stoner was maddening Mallalieu, though of +course I couldn't distinguish precise words. And all of a sudden +Mallalieu's temper went, and he lets out with that heavy oak stick of +his and fetches the lad a crack right over his forehead--and with Stoner +starting suddenly back the old railings gave way and--down he went. +That's what I saw--and I saw Mallalieu kick that stick into the quarry +in a passion, and--I've got it!" + +"You've got it?" said Tallington. + +"I've got it!" repeated Cotherstone. "I watched Mallalieu--after this +was over. Once I thought he saw me--but he evidently decided he was +alone. I could see he was taking on rarely. He went down to the quarry +as it got dusk--he was there some time. Then at last he went away on the +opposite side. And I went down when he'd got clear away and I went +straight to where the stick was. And as I say, I've got it." + +Tallington looked at Brereton, and Brereton spoke for the first time. + +"Mr. Cotherstone must see that all this should be told to the police," +he said. + +"Wait a bit," replied Cotherstone. "I've not done telling my tales here +yet. Now that I am talking, I will talk! Bent!" he continued, turning to +his future son-in-law. "What I'm going to say now is for your benefit. +But these lawyers shall hear. This old Wilchester business has been +raked up--how, I don't know. Now then, you shall all know the truth +about that! I did two years--for what? For being Mallalieu's catspaw!" + +Tallington suddenly began to drum his fingers on the blotting-pad which +lay in front of him. From this point he watched Cotherstone with an +appearance of speculative interest which was not lost on Brereton. + +"Ah!" he remarked quietly. "You were Mallalieu's--or Mallows'--catspaw? +That is--he was the really guilty party in the Wilchester affair, of +Which that's an account?" + +"Doesn't it say here that he was treasurer?" retorted Cotherstone, +laying his hand on the open scrap-book. "He was--he'd full control of +the money. He drew me into things--drew me into 'em in such a clever way +that when the smash came I couldn't help myself. I had to go through +with it. And I never knew until--until the two years was over--that +Mallalieu had that money safely put away." + +"But--you got to know, eventually," remarked Tallington. "And--I +suppose--you agreed to make use of it?" + +Cotherstone smote the table again. + +"Yes!" he said with some heat. "And don't you get any false ideas, Mr. +Tallington. Bent!--I've paid that money back--I, myself. Each penny of +it--two thousand pound, with four per cent. interest for thirty years! +I've done it--Mallalieu knows naught about it. And here's the receipt. +So now then!" + +"When did you pay it, Mr. Cotherstone?" asked Tallington, as Bent +unwillingly took the paper which Cotherstone drew from a pocket-book and +handed to him. "Some time ago, or lately?" + +"If you want to know," retorted Cotherstone, "it was the very day after +old Kitely was killed. I sent it through a friend of mine who still +lives in Wilchester. I wanted to be done with it--I didn't want to have +it brought up against me that anybody lost aught through my fault. And +so--I paid." + +"But--I'm only suggesting--you could have paid a long time before that, +couldn't you?" said Tallington. "The longer you waited, the more you had +to pay. Two thousand pounds, with thirty years' interest, at four per +cent.--why, that's four thousand four hundred pounds altogether!" + +"That's what he paid," said Bent. "Here's the receipt." + +"Mr. Cotherstone is telling us--privately--everything," remarked +Tallington, glancing at the receipt and passing it on to Brereton. "I +wish he'd tell us--privately, as I say--why he paid that money the day +after Kitely's murder. Why, Mr. Cotherstone?" + +Cotherstone, ready enough to answer and to speak until then, flushed +angrily and shook his head. But he was about to speak when a gentle +tap came at Tallington's door, and before the solicitor could make +any response, the door was opened from without, and the +police-superintendent walked in, accompanied by two men whom Brereton +recognized as detectives from Norcaster. + +"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Tallington," said the superintendent, "but I +heard Mr. Cotherstone was here. Mr. Cotherstone!--I shall have to ask +you to step across with me to the office. Will you come over now?--it'll +be best." + +"Not until I know what I'm wanted for," answered Cotherstone +determinedly. "What is it?" + +The superintendent sighed and shook his head. + +"Very well--it's not my fault, then," he answered. "The fact is we want +both you and Mr. Mallalieu for this Stoner affair. That's the plain +truth! The warrants were issued an hour ago--and we've got Mr. Mallalieu +already. Come on, Mr. Cotherstone!--there's no help for it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE INTERRUPTED FLIGHT + + +Twenty-four hours after he had seen Stoner fall headlong into Hobwick +Quarry, Mallalieu made up his mind for flight. And as soon as he had +come to that moment of definite decision, he proceeded to arrange for +his disappearance with all the craft and subtlety of which he was a past +master. He would go, once and for all, and since he was to go he would +go in such a fashion that nobody should be able to trace him. + +After munching his sandwich and drinking his ale at the Highmarket Arms, +Mallalieu had gone away to Hobwick Quarry and taken a careful look +round. Just as he had expected, he found a policeman or two and a few +gaping townsfolk there. He made no concealment of his own curiosity; he +had come up, he said, to see what there was to be seen at the place +where his clerk had come to this sad end. He made one of the policemen +take him up to the broken railings at the brink of the quarry; together +they made a careful examination of the ground. + +"No signs of any footprints hereabouts, the superintendent says," +remarked Mallalieu as they looked around. "You haven't seen aught of +that sort!" + +"No, your Worship--we looked for that when we first came up," answered +the policeman. "You see this grass is that short and wiry that it's too +full of spring to show marks. No, there's naught, anywhere about--we've +looked a goodish way on both sides." + +Mallalieu went close to the edge of the quarry and looked down. His +sharp, ferrety eyes were searching everywhere for his stick. A little to +the right of his position the side of the quarry shelved less abruptly +than at the place where Stoner had fallen; on the gradual slope there, a +great mass of bramble and gorse, broom and bracken, clustered: he gazed +hard at it, thinking that the stick might have lodged in its meshes. It +would be an easy thing to see that stick in daylight; it was a brightish +yellow colour and would be easily distinguished against the prevalent +greens and browns around there. But he saw nothing of it, and his brain, +working around the event of the night before, began to have confused +notions of the ringing of the stick on the lime-stone slabs at the +bottom of the quarry. + +"Aye!" he said musingly, with a final look round. "A nasty place to fall +over, and a bad job--a bad job! Them rails," he continued, pointing to +the broken fencing, "why, they're rotten all through! If a man put his +weight on them, they'd be sure to give way. The poor young fellow must +ha' sat down to rest himself a bit, on the top one, and of course, smash +they went." + +"That's what I should ha' said, your Worship," agreed the policeman, +"but some of 'em that were up here seemed to think he'd been forced +through 'em, or thrown against 'em, violent, as it might be. They think +he was struck down--from the marks of a blow that they found." + +"Aye, just so," said Mallalieu, "but he could get many blows on him as +he fell down them rocks. Look for yourself!--there's not only rough +edges of stone down there, but snags and roots of old trees that he'd +strike against in falling. Accident, my lad!--that's what it's +been--sheer and pure accident." + +The policeman neither agreed with nor contradicted the Mayor, and +presently they went down to the bottom of the quarry again, where +Mallalieu, under pretence of thoroughly seeing into everything, walked +about all over the place. He did not find the stick, and he was quite +sure that nobody else had found it. Finally he went away, convinced that +it lay in some nook or cranny of the shelving slope on to which he had +kicked it in his sudden passion of rage. There, in all probability, it +would remain for ever, for it would never occur to the police that +whoever wielded whatever weapon it was that struck the blow would not +carry the weapon away with him. No--on the point of the stick Mallalieu +began to feel easy and confident. + +He grew still easier and more confident about the whole thing during the +course of the afternoon. He went about the town; he was in and out of +the Town Hall; he kept calling in at the police-station; he became +certain towards evening that no suspicion attached to himself--as yet. +But--only as yet. He knew something would come out. The big question +with him as he went home in the evening was--was he safe until the +afternoon of the next day? While he ate and drank in his lonely +dining-room, he decided that he was; by the time he had got through his +after-dinner cigar he had further decided that when the next night came +he would be safely away from Highmarket. + +But there were things to do that night. He spent an hour with a Bradshaw +and a map. While he reckoned up trains and glanced at distances and +situations his mind was busy with other schemes, for he had all his life +been a man who could think of more than one thing at once. And at the +end of the hour he had decided on a plan of action. + +Mallalieu had two chief objects in immediate view. He wanted to go away +openly from Highmarket without exciting suspicion: that was one. He +wanted to make it known that he had gone to some definite place, on some +definite mission; that was the other. And in reckoning up his chances he +saw how fortune was favouring him. At that very time the Highmarket Town +Council was very much concerned and busied about a new water-supply. +There was a project afoot for joining with another town, some miles off, +in establishing a new system and making a new reservoir on the adjacent +hills, and on the very next morning Mallalieu himself was to preside +over a specially-summoned committee which was to debate certain matters +relating to this scheme. He saw how he could make use of that +appointment. He would profess that he was not exactly pleased with some +of the provisions of the proposed amalgamation, and would state his +intention, in open meeting, of going over in person to the other town +that very evening to see its authorities on the points whereon he was +not satisfied. Nobody would see anything suspicious in his going away on +Corporation business. An excellent plan for his purpose--for in order to +reach the other town it would be necessary to pass through Norcaster, +where he would have to change stations. And Norcaster was a very big +city, and a thickly-populated one, and it had some obscure parts with +which Mallalieu was well-acquainted--and in Norcaster he could enter on +the first important stage of his flight. + +And so, being determined, Mallalieu made his final preparations. They +were all connected with money. If he felt a pang at the thought of +leaving his Highmarket property behind him, it was assuaged by the +reflection that, after all, that property only represented the price of +his personal safety--perhaps (though he did not like to think of that) +of his life. Besides, events might turn out so luckily that the +enjoyment of it might be restored to him--it was possible. Whether that +possibility ever came off or not, he literally dared not regard it just +then. To put himself in safety was the one, the vital consideration. And +his Highmarket property and his share in the business only represented a +part of Mallalieu's wealth. He could afford to do without all that he +left behind him; it was a lot to leave, he sighed regretfully, but he +would still be a very wealthy man if he never touched a pennyworth of it +again. + +From the moment in which Mallalieu had discovered that Kitely knew the +secret of the Wilchester affair he had prepared for eventualities, and +Kitely's death had made no difference to his plans. If one man could +find all that out, he argued, half a dozen other men might find it out. +The murder of the ex-detective, indeed, had strengthened his resolve to +be prepared. He foresaw that suspicion might fall on Cotherstone; deeper +reflection showed him that if Cotherstone became an object of suspicion +he himself would not escape. And so he had prepared himself. He had got +together his valuable securities; they were all neatly bestowed in a +stout envelope which fitted into the inner pocket of a waistcoat which +he once had specially made to his own design: a cleverly arranged +garment, in which a man could carry a lot of wealth--in paper. There in +that pocket it all was--Government stock, railway stock, scrip, shares, +all easily convertible, anywhere in the world where men bought and sold +the best of gilt-edged securities. And in another pocket Mallalieu had a +wad of bank-notes which he had secured during the previous week from a +London bank at which he kept an account, and in yet another, a cunningly +arranged one, lined out with wash-leather, and secured by a strong flap, +belted and buckled, he carried gold. + +Mallalieu kept that waistcoat and its precious contents under his pillow +that night. And next morning he attired himself with particular care, +and in the hip pocket of his trousers he placed a revolver which he had +recently purchased, and for the first time for a fortnight he ate his +usual hearty breakfast. After which he got into his most serviceable +overcoat and went away townwards ... and if anybody had been watching +him they would have seen that Mallalieu never once turned his head to +take a look at the house which he had built, and might be leaving for +ever. + +Everything that Mallalieu did that morning was done with method. He was +in and about his office and his yard for an hour or two, attending to +business in his customary fashion. He saw Cotherstone, and did not speak +to him except on absolutely necessary matters. No word was said by +either in relation to Stoner's death. But about ten o'clock Mallalieu +went across to the police-station and into the superintendent's office, +and convinced himself that nothing further had come to light, and no new +information had been given. The coroner's officer was with the police, +and Mallalieu discussed with him and them some arrangements about the +inquest. With every moment the certainty that he was safe increased--and +at eleven o'clock he went into the Town Hall to his committee meeting. + +Had Mallalieu chanced to look back at the door of the police-station as +he entered the ancient door of the Town Hall he would have seen three +men drive up there in a motor-car which had come from Norcaster--one of +the men being Myler, and the other two Norcaster detectives. But +Mallalieu did not look back. He went up to the committee-room and became +absorbed in the business of the meeting. His fellow committee-men said +afterwards that they never remembered the Mayor being in such fettle for +business. He explained his objections to the scheme they were +considering; he pointed out this and urged that--finally, he said that +he was so little satisfied with the project that he would go and see +the Mayor of the sister town that very evening, and discuss the matter +with him to the last detail. + +Mallalieu stepped out of the committee-room to find the superintendent +awaiting him in the corridor. The superintendent was pale and trembling, +and his eyes met Mallalieu's with a strange, deprecating expression. +Before he could speak, two strangers emerged from a doorway and came +close up. And a sudden sickening sense of danger came over Mallalieu, +and his tongue failed him. + +"Mr. Mayor!" faltered the superintendent. "I--I can't help it! These are +officers from Norcaster, sir--there's a warrant for your arrest. +It's--it's the Stoner affair!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HAND IN THE DARKNESS + + +The Highmarket clocks were striking noon when Mallalieu was arrested. +For three hours he remained under lock and key, in a room in the Town +Hall--most of the time alone. His lunch was brought to him; every +consideration was shown him. The police wanted to send for his solicitor +from Norcaster; Mallalieu bade them mind their own business. He turned a +deaf ear to the superintendent's entreaties to him to see some friend; +let him mind his own business too, said Mallalieu. He himself would do +nothing until he saw the need to do something. Let him hear what could +be brought against him--time enough to speak and act then. He ate his +lunch, he smoked a cigar; he walked out of the room with defiant eye and +head erect when they came to fetch him before a specially summoned bench +of his fellow-magistrates. And it was not until he stepped into the +dock, in full view of a crowded court, and amidst quivering excitement, +that he and Cotherstone met. + +The news of the partners' arrest had flown through the little town like +wildfire. There was no need to keep it secret; no reason why it should +be kept secret. It was necessary to bring the accused men before the +magistrates as quickly as possible, and the days of private inquiries +were long over. Before the Highmarket folk had well swallowed their +dinners, every street in the town, every shop, office, bar-parlour, +public-house, private house rang with the news--Mallalieu and +Cotherstone, the Mayor and the Borough Treasurer, had been arrested for +the murder of their clerk, and would be put before the magistrates at +three o'clock. The Kitely affair faded into insignificance--except +amongst the cute and knowing few, who immediately began to ask if the +Hobwick Quarry murder had anything to do with the murder on the Shawl. + +If Mallalieu and Cotherstone could have looked out of the windows of the +court in the Town Hall, they would have seen the Market Square packed +with a restless and seething crowd of townsfolk, all clamouring for +whatever news could permeate from the packed chamber into which so few +had been able to fight a way. But the prisoners seemed strangely +indifferent to their surroundings. Those who watched them closely--as +Brereton and Tallington did--noticed that neither took any notice of the +other. Cotherstone had been placed in the dock first. When Mallalieu was +brought there, a moment later, the two exchanged one swift glance and no +more--Cotherstone immediately moved off to the far corner on the left +hand, Mallalieu remained in the opposite one, and placing his hands in +the pockets of his overcoat, he squared his shoulders and straitened his +big frame and took a calm and apparently contemptuous look round about +him. + +Brereton, sitting at a corner of the solicitor's table, and having +nothing to do but play the part of spectator, watched these two men +carefully and with absorbed interest from first to last. He was soon +aware of the vastly different feelings with which they themselves +watched the proceedings. Cotherstone was eager and restless; he could +not keep still; he moved his position; he glanced about him; he looked +as if he were on the verge of bursting into indignant or explanatory +speech every now and then--though, as a matter of fact, he restrained +whatever instinct he had in that direction. But Mallalieu never moved, +never changed his attitude. His expression of disdainful, contemptuous +watchfulness never left him--after the first moments and the formalities +were over, he kept his eyes on the witness-box and on the people who +entered it. Brereton, since his first meeting with Mallalieu, had often +said to himself that the Mayor of Highmarket had the slyest eyes of any +man he had even seen--but he was forced to admit now that, however sly +Mallalieu's eyes were, they could, on occasion, be extraordinarily +steady. + +The truth was that Mallalieu was playing a part. He had outlined it, +unconsciously, when he said to the superintendent that it would be time +enough for him to do something when he knew what could be brought +against him. And now all his attention was given to the two or three +witnesses whom the prosecution thought it necessary to call. He wanted +to know who they were. He curbed his impatience while the formal +evidence of arrest was given, but his ears pricked a little when he +heard one of the police witnesses speak of the warrant having been +issued on information received. "What information? Received from whom?" +He half-turned as a sharp official voice called the name of the first +important witness. + +"David Myler!" + +Mallalieu stared at David Myler as if he would tear whatever secret he +had out of him with a searching glance. Who was David Myler? No +Highmarket man--that was certain. Who was he, then?--what did he +know?--was he some detective who had been privately working up this +case? A cool, quiet, determined-looking young fellow, anyway. Confound +him! But--what had he to do with this? + +Those questions were speedily answered for Mallalieu. He kept his +immovable attitude, his immobile expression, while Myler told the story +of Stoner's visit to Darlington, and of the revelation which had +resulted. And nothing proved his extraordinary command over his temper +and his feelings better than the fact that as Myler narrated one damning +thing after another, he never showed the least concern or uneasiness. + +But deep within himself Mallalieu was feeling a lot. He knew now that he +had been mistaken in thinking that Stoner had kept his knowledge to +himself. He also knew what line the prosecution was taking. It was +seeking to show that Stoner was murdered by Cotherstone and himself, or +by one or other, separately or in collusion, in order that he might be +silenced. But he knew more than that. Long practice and much natural +inclination had taught Mallalieu the art of thinking ahead, and he +could foresee as well as any man of his acquaintance. He foresaw the +trend of events in this affair. This was only a preliminary. The +prosecution was charging him and Cotherstone with the murder of Stoner +today: it would be charging them with the murder of Kitely tomorrow. + +Myler's evidence caused a profound sensation in court--but there was +even more sensation and more excitement when Myler's father-in-law +followed him in the witness-box. It was literally in a breathless +silence that the old man told the story of the crime of thirty years +ago; it was a wonderfully dramatic moment when he declared that in spite +of the long time that had elapsed he recognized the Mallalieu and +Cotherstone of Highmarket as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had known +at Wilchester. + +Even then Mallalieu had not flinched. Cotherstone flushed, grew +restless, hung his head a little, looked as if he would like to explain. +But Mallalieu continued to stare fixedly across the court. He cared +nothing that the revelation had been made at last. Now that it had been +made, in full publicity, he did not care a brass farthing if every man +and woman in Highmarket knew that he was an ex-gaol-bird. That was far +away in the dead past--what he cared about was the present and the +future. And his sharp wits told him that if the evidence of Myler and of +old Pursey was all that the prosecution could bring against him, he was +safe. That there had been a secret, that Stoner had come into possession +of it, that Stoner was about to make profit of it, was no proof that he +and Cotherstone, or either of them, had murdered Stoner. No--if that +was all.... + +But in another moment Mallalieu knew that it was not all. Up to that +moment he had firmly believed that he had got away from Hobwick Quarry +unobserved. Here he was wrong. He had now to learn that a young man from +Norcaster had come over to Highmarket that Sunday afternoon to visit his +sweetheart; that this couple had gone up the moors; that they were on +the opposite side of Hobwick Quarry when he went down into it after +Stoner's fall; that they had seen him move about and finally go away; +what was more, they had seen Cotherstone descend into the quarry and +recover the stick; Cotherstone had passed near them as they stood hidden +in the bushes; they had seen the stick in his hand. + +When Mallalieu heard all this and saw his stick produced and identified, +he ceased to take any further interest in that stage of the proceedings. +He knew the worst now, and he began to think of his plans and schemes. +And suddenly, all the evidence for that time being over, and the +magistrates and the officials being in the thick of some whispered +consultations about the adjournment, Mallalieu spoke for the first time. + +"I shall have my answer about all this business at the right time and +place," he said loudly. "My partner can do what he likes. All I have to +say now is that I ask for bail. You can fix it at any amount you like. +You all know me." + +The magistrates and the officials looked across the well of the court in +astonishment, and the chairman, a mild old gentleman who was obviously +much distressed by the revelation, shook his head deprecatingly. + +"Impossible!" he remonstrated. "Quite impossible! We haven't the +power----" + +"You're wrong!" retorted Mallalieu, masterful and insistent as ever. +"You have the power! D'ye think I've been a justice of the peace for +twelve years without knowing what law is? You've the power to admit to +bail in all charges of felony, at your discretion. So now then!" + +The magistrates looked at their clerk, and the clerk smiled. + +"Mr. Mallalieu's theory is correct," he said quietly. "But no magistrate +is obliged to admit to bail in felonies and misdemeanours, and in +practice bail is never allowed in cases where--as in this case--the +charge is one of murder. Such procedure is unheard of." + +"Make a precedent, then!" sneered Mallalieu. "Here!--you can have twenty +thousand pounds security, if you like." + +But this offer received no answer, and in five minutes more Mallalieu +heard the case adjourned for a week and himself and Cotherstone +committed to Norcaster Gaol in the meantime. Without a look at his +fellow-prisoner he turned out of the dock and was escorted back to the +private room in the Town Hall from which he had been brought. + +"Hang 'em for a lot of fools!" he burst out to the superintendent, who +had accompanied him. "Do they think I'm going to run away? Likely +thing--on a trumped-up charge like this. Here!--how soon shall you be +wanting to start for yon place?" + +The superintendent, who had cherished considerable respect for Mallalieu +in the past, and was much upset and very downcast about this sudden +change in the Mayor's fortunes, looked at his prisoner and shook his +head. + +"There's a couple of cars ordered to be ready in half an hour, Mr. +Mallalieu," he answered. "One for you, and one for Mr. Cotherstone." + +"With armed escorts in both, I suppose!" sneered Mallalieu. "Well, look +here--you've time to get me a cup of tea. Slip out and get one o' your +men to nip across to the Arms for it--good, strong tea, and a slice or +two of bread-and-butter. I can do with it." + +He flung half a crown on the table, and the superintendent, suspecting +nothing, and willing to oblige a man who had always been friendly and +genial towards himself, went out of the room, with no further +precautions than the turning of the key in the lock when he had once got +outside the door. It never entered his head that the prisoner would try +to escape, never crossed his mind that Mallalieu had any chance of +escaping. He went away along the corridor to find one of his men who +could be dispatched to the Highmarket Arms. + +But the instant Mallalieu was left alone he started into action. He had +not been Mayor of Highmarket for two years, a member of its Corporation +for nearly twenty, without knowing all the ins-and-outs of that old Town +Hall. And as soon as the superintendent had left him he drew from his +pocket a key, went across the room to a door which stood in a corner +behind a curtain, unlocked it, opened it gently, looked out, passed into +a lobby without, relocked the door behind him, and in another instant +was stealing quietly down a private staircase that led to an entrance +into the quaint old garden at the back of the premises. One further +moment of suspense and of looking round, and he was safely in that +garden and behind the thick shrubs which ran along one of its high +walls. Yet another and he was out of the garden, and in an old-fashioned +orchard which ran, thick with trees, to the very edge of the coppices at +the foot of the Shawl. Once in that orchard, screened by its +close-branched, low-spreading boughs, leafless though they were at that +period of the year, he paused to get his breath, and to chuckle over the +success of his scheme. What a mercy, what blessing, he thought, that +they had not searched him on his arrest!--that they had delayed that +interesting ceremony until his committal! The omission, he knew, had +been winked at--purposely--and it had left him with his precious +waistcoat, his revolver, and the key that had opened his prison door. + +Dusk had fallen over Highmarket before the hearing came to an end, and +it was now dark. Mallalieu knew that he had little time to lose--but he +also knew that his pursuers would have hard work to catch him. He had +laid his plans while the last two witnesses were in the box: his +detailed knowledge of the town and its immediate neighbourhood stood in +good stead. Moreover, the geographical situation of the Town Hall was a +great help. He had nothing to do but steal out of the orchard into the +coppices, make his way cautiously through them into the deeper wood +which fringed the Shawl, pass through that to the ridge at the top, and +gain the moors. Once on those moors he would strike by devious way for +Norcaster--he knew a safe place in the Lower Town there where he could +be hidden for a month, three months, six months, without fear of +discovery, and from whence he could get away by ship. + +All was quiet as he passed through a gap in the orchard hedge and stole +into the coppices. He kept stealthily but swiftly along through the pine +and fir until he came to the wood which covered the higher part of the +Shawl. The trees were much thicker there, the brakes and bushes were +thicker, and the darkness was greater. He was obliged to move at a +slower pace--and suddenly he heard men's voices on the lower slopes +beneath him. He paused catching his breath and listening. And then, just +as suddenly as he had heard the voices, he felt a hand, firm, steady, +sinewy, fasten on his wrist and stay there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY + + +The tightening of that sinewy grip on Mallalieu's wrist so startled him +that it was only by a great effort that he restrained himself from +crying out and from breaking into one of his fits of trembling. This +sudden arrest was all the more disturbing to his mental composure +because, for the moment, he could not see to whom the hand belonged. But +as he twisted round he became aware of a tall, thin shape at his elbow; +the next instant a whisper stole to his ear. + +"H'sh! Be careful!--there's men down there on the path!--they're very +like after you," said the voice. "Wait here a minute!" + +"Who are you?" demanded Mallalieu hoarsely. He was endeavouring to free +his wrist, but the steel-like fingers clung. "Let go my hand!" he said. +"D'ye hear?--let it go!" + +"Wait!" said the voice. "It's for your own good. It's me--Miss Pett. I +saw you--against that patch of light between the trees there--I knew +your big figure. You've got away, of course. Well, you'll not get much +further if you don't trust to me. Wait till we hear which way them +fellows go." + +Mallalieu resigned himself. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the +gloom of the wood, he made out that Miss Pett was standing just within +an opening in the trees; presently, as the voices beneath them became +fainter, she drew him into it. + +"This way!" she whispered. "Come close behind me--the house is close +by." + +"No!" protested Mallalieu angrily. "None of your houses! Here, I want to +be on the moors. What do you want--to keep your tongue still?" + +Miss Pett paused and edged her thin figure close to Mallalieu's bulky +one. + +"It'll not be a question of my tongue if you once go out o' this wood," +she said. "They'll search those moors first thing. Don't be a +fool!--it'll be known all over the town by now! Come with me and I'll +put you where all the police in the county can't find you. But of +course, do as you like--only, I'm warning you. You haven't a cat's +chance if you set foot on that moor. Lord bless you, man!--don't they +know that there's only two places you could make for--Norcaster and +Hexendale? Is there any way to either of 'em except across the moors? +Come on, now--be sensible." + +"Go on, then!" growled Mallalieu. Wholly suspicious by nature, he was +wondering why this she-dragon, as he had so often called her, should be +at all desirous of sheltering him. Already he suspected her of some +design, some trick--and in the darkness he clapped his hand on the +hip-pocket in which he had placed his revolver. That was safe +enough--and again he thanked his stars that the police had not searched +him. But however well he might be armed, he was for the time being in +Miss Pett's power--he knew very well that if he tried to slip away Miss +Pett had only to utter one shrill cry to attract attention. And so, much +as he desired the freedom of the moors, he allowed himself to be taken +captive by this gaoler who promised eventual liberty. + +Miss Pett waited in the thickness of the trees until the voices at the +foot of the Shawl became faint and far off; she herself knew well enough +that they were not the voices of men who were searching for Mallalieu, +but of country folk who had been into the town and were now returning +home by the lower path in the wood. But it suited her purposes to create +a spirit of impending danger in the Mayor, and so she kept him there, +her hand still on his arm, until the last sound died away. And while she +thus held him, Mallalieu, who had often observed Miss Pett in her +peregrinations through the Market Place, and had been accustomed to +speaking of her as a thread-paper, or as Mother Skin-and-Bones, because +of her phenomenal thinness, wondered how it was that a woman of such +extraordinary attenuation should possess such powerful fingers--her grip +on his wrist was like that of a vice. And somehow, in a fashion for +which he could not account, especially in the disturbed and anxious +state of his mind, he became aware that here in this strange woman was +some mental force which was superior to and was already dominating his +own, and for a moment he was tempted to shake the steel-like fingers off +and make a dash for the moorlands. + +But Miss Pett presently moved forward, holding Mallalieu as a nurse +might hold an unwilling child. She led him cautiously through the trees, +which there became thicker, she piloted him carefully down a path, and +into a shrubbery--she drew him through a gap in a hedgerow, and +Mallalieu knew then that they were in the kitchen garden at the rear of +old Kitely's cottage. Quietly and stealthily, moving herself as if her +feet were shod with velvet, Miss Pett made her way with her captive to +the door; Mallalieu heard the rasping of a key in a lock, the lifting of +a latch; then he was gently but firmly pushed into darkness. Behind him +the door closed--a bolt was shot home. + +"This way!" whispered Miss Pett. She drew him after her along what he +felt to be a passage, twisted him to the left through another doorway, +and then, for the first time since she had assumed charge of him, +released his wrist. "Wait!" she said. "We'll have a light presently." + +Mallalieu stood where she had placed him, impatient of everything, but +feeling powerless to move. He heard Miss Pett move about; he heard the +drawing to and barring of shutters, the swish of curtains being pulled +together; then the spurt and glare of a match--in its feeble flame he +saw Miss Pett's queer countenance, framed in an odd-shaped, +old-fashioned poke bonnet, bending towards a lamp. In the gradually +increasing light of that lamp Mallalieu looked anxiously around him. + +He was in a little room which was half-parlour, half bed-room. There was +a camp bed in one corner; there was an ancient knee-hole writing desk +under the window across which the big curtains had been drawn; there +were a couple of easy-chairs on either side of the hearth. There were +books and papers on a shelf; there were pictures and cartoons on the +walls. Mallalieu took a hasty glance at those unusual ornaments and +hated them: they were pictures of famous judges in their robes, and of +great criminal counsel in their wigs--and over the chimney-piece, framed +in black wood, was an old broad-sheet, printed in big, queer-shaped +letters: Mallalieu's hasty glance caught the staring headline--_Dying +Speech and Confession of the Famous Murderer_.... + +"This was Kitely's snug," remarked Miss Pett calmly, as she turned up +the lamp to the full. "He slept in that bed, studied at that desk, +and smoked his pipe in that chair. He called it his +sanctum-something-or-other--I don't know no Latin. But it's a nice room, +and it's comfortable, or will be when I put a fire in that grate, and +it'll do very well for you until you can move. Sit you down--would you +like a drop of good whisky, now?" + +Mallalieu sat down and stared his hardest at Miss Pett. He felt himself +becoming more confused and puzzled than ever. + +"Look here, missis!" he said suddenly. "Let's get a clear idea about +things. You say you can keep me safe here until I can get away. How do +you know I shall be safe?" + +"Because I'll take good care that you are," answered Miss Pett. "There's +nobody can get into this house without my permission, and before I let +anybody in, no matter with what warrants or such-like they carried, I'd +see that you were out of it before they crossed the threshold. I'm no +fool, I can tell you, Mr. Mallalieu, and if you trust me----" + +"I've no choice, so it seems," remarked Mallalieu, grimly. "You've got +me! And now, how much are you reckoning to get out of me--what?" + +"No performance, no pay!" said Miss Pett. "Wait till I've managed things +for you. I know how to get you safely away from here--leave it to me, +and I'll have you put down in any part of Norcaster you like, without +anybody knowing. And if you like to make me a little present then----" + +"You're certain?" demanded Mallalieu, still suspicious, but glad to +welcome even a ray of hope. "You know what you're talking about?" + +"I never talk idle stuff," retorted Miss Pett. "I'm telling you what I +know." + +"All right, then," said Mallalieu. "You do your part, and I'll do mine +when it comes to it--you'll not find me ungenerous, missis. And I will +have that drop of whisky you talked about." + +Miss Pett went away, leaving Mallalieu to stare about him and to +meditate on this curious change in his fortunes. Well, after all, it was +better to be safe and snug under this queer old woman's charge than to +be locked up in Norcaster Gaol, or to be hunted about on the bleak moors +and possibly to go without food or drink. And his thoughts began to +assume a more cheerful complexion when Miss Pett presently brought him a +stiff glass of undeniably good liquor, and proceeded to light a fire in +his prison: he even melted so much as to offer her some thanks. + +"I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, missis," he said, with an attempt at +graciousness. "I'll not forget you when it comes to settling up. But I +should feel a good deal easier in my mind if I knew two things. First of +all--you know, of course, I've got away from yon lot down yonder, else I +shouldn't ha' been where you found me. But--they'll raise the +hue-and-cry, missis! Now supposing they come here?" + +Miss Pett lifted her queer face from the hearth, where she had been +blowing the sticks into a blaze. + +"There's such a thing as chance," she observed. "To start with, how much +chance is there that they'd ever think of coming here? Next to none! +They'd never suspect me of harbouring you. There is a chance that when +they look through these woods--as they will--they'll ask if I've seen +aught of you--well, you can leave the answer to me." + +"They might want to search," suggested Mallalieu. + +"Not likely!" answered Miss Pett, with a shake of the poke bonnet. "But +even if they did, I'd take good care they didn't find you!" + +"Well--and what about getting me away?" asked Mallalieu. "How's that to +be done?" + +"I'll tell you that tomorrow," replied Miss Pett. "You make yourself +easy--I'll see you're all right. And now I'll go and cook you a nice +chop, for no doubt you'll do with something after all the stuff you had +to hear in the court." + +"You were there, then?" asked Mallalieu. "Lot o' stuff and nonsense! A +sensible woman like you----" + +"A sensible woman like me only believes what she can prove," answered +Miss Pett. + +She went away and shut the door, and Mallalieu, left to himself, took +another heartening pull at his glass and proceeded to re-inspect his +quarters. The fire was blazing up: the room was warm and comfortable; +certainly he was fortunate. But he assured himself that the window was +properly shuttered, barred, and fully covered by the thick curtain, and +he stood by it for a moment listening intently for any sound of movement +without. No sound came, not even the wail of a somewhat strong wind +which he knew to be sweeping through the pine trees, and he came to the +conclusion that the old stone walls were almost sound-proof and that if +he and Miss Pett conversed in ordinary tones no eavesdroppers outside +the cottage could hear them. And presently he caught a sound within the +cottage--the sound of the sizzling of chops on a gridiron, and with it +came the pleasant and grateful smell of cooking meat, and Mallalieu +decided that he was hungry. + +To a man fixed as Mallalieu was at that time the evening which followed +was by no means unpleasant. Miss Pett served him as nice a little supper +as his own housekeeper would have given him; later on she favoured him +with her company. They talked of anything but the events of the day, and +Mallalieu began to think that the queer-looking woman was a remarkably +shrewd and intelligent person. There was but one drawback to his +captivity--Miss Pett would not let him smoke. Cigars, she said, might be +smelt outside the cottage, and nobody would credit her with the +consumption of such gentleman-like luxuries. + +"And if I were you," she said, at the end of an interesting conversation +which had covered a variety of subjects, "I should try to get a good +night's rest. I'll mix you a good glass of toddy such as the late Kitely +always let me mix for his nightcap, and then I'll leave you. The bed's +aired, there's plenty of clothing on it, all's safe, and you can sleep +as if you were a baby in a cradle, for I always sleep like a dog, with +one ear and an eye open, and I'll take good care naught disturbs you, so +there!" + +Mallalieu drank the steaming glass of spirits and water which Miss Pett +presently brought him, and took her advice about going to bed. Without +ever knowing anything about it he fell into such a slumber as he had +never known in his life before. It was indeed so sound that he never +heard Miss Pett steal into his room, was not aware that she carefully +withdrew the precious waistcoat which, through a convenient hole in the +wall, she had watched him deposit under the rest of his garments on the +chair at his side, never knew that she carried it away into the +living-room on the other side of the cottage. For the strong flavour of +the lemon and the sweetness of the sugar which Miss Pett had put into +the hot toddy had utterly obscured the very slight taste of something +else which she had put in--something which was much stronger than the +generous dose of whisky, and was calculated to plunge Mallalieu into a +stupor from which not even an earthquake could have roused him. + +Miss Pett examined the waistcoat at her leisure. Her thin fingers went +through every pocket and every paper, through the bank-notes, the scrip, +the shares, the securities. She put everything back in its place, after +a careful reckoning and estimation of the whole. And Mallalieu was as +deeply plunged in his slumbers as ever when she went back into his room +with her shaded light and her catlike tread, and she replaced the +garment exactly where she found it, and went out and shut the door as +lightly as a butterfly folds its wings. + +It was then eleven o'clock at night, and Miss Pett, instead of retiring +to her bed, sat down by the living-room fire and waited. The poke bonnet +had been replaced by the gay turban, and under its gold and scarlet her +strange, skeleton-like face gleamed like old ivory as she sat there with +the firelight playing on it. And so immobile was she, sitting with her +sinewy skin-and-bone arms lying folded over her silk apron, that she +might have been taken for an image rather than for a living woman. + +But as the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece neared midnight, Miss +Pett suddenly moved. Her sharp ears caught a scratching sound on the +shutter outside the window. And noiselessly she moved down the passage, +and noiselessly unbarred the front door, and just as noiselessly closed +it again behind the man who slipped in--Christopher, her nephew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +STRICT BUSINESS LINES + + +Mr. Christopher Pett, warned by the uplifted finger of his aunt, +tip-toed into the living-room, and setting down his small travelling bag +on the table proceeded to divest himself of a thick overcoat, a warm +muffler, woollen gloves, and a silk hat. And Miss Pett, having closed +the outer and inner doors, came in and glanced inquiringly at him. + +"Which way did you come, this time?" she inquired. + +"High Gill," replied Christopher. "Got an afternoon express that stopped +there. Jolly cold it was crossing those moors of yours, too, I can tell +you!--I can do with a drop of something. I say--is there anything afoot +about here?--anything going on?" + +"Why?" asked Miss Pett, producing the whisky and the lemons. "And how do +you mean?" + +Christopher pulled an easy chair to the fire and stretched his hands to +the blaze. + +"Up there, on the moor," he answered. "There's fellows going about with +lights--lanterns, I should say. I didn't see 'em close at hand--there +were several of 'em crossing about--like fire-flies--as if the chaps +who carried 'em were searching for something." + +Miss Pett set the decanter and the materials for toddy on the table at +her nephew's side, and took a covered plate from the cupboard in the +corner. + +"Them's potted meat sandwiches," she said. "Very toothsome you'll find +'em--I didn't prepare much, for I knew you'd get your dinner on the +train. Yes, well, there is something afoot--they are searching. Not for +something, though, but for somebody. Mallalieu!" + +Christopher, his mouth full of sandwiches, and his hand laid on the +decanter, lifted a face full of new and alert interest. + +"The Mayor!" he exclaimed. + +"Quite so," assented Miss Pett. "Anthony Mallalieu, Esquire, Mayor of +Highmarket. They want him, does the police--bad!" + +Christopher still remained transfixed. The decanter was already tilted +in his hand, but he tilted it no further; the sandwich hung bulging in +his cheek. + +"Good Lord!" he said. "Not for----" he paused, nodding his head towards +the front of the cottage where the wood lay "--not for--that? They ain't +suspicioning _him_?" + +"No, but for killing his clerk, who'd found something out," replied Miss +Pett. "The clerk was killed Sunday; they took up Mallalieu and his +partner today, and tried 'em, and Mallalieu slipped the police somehow, +after the case was adjourned, and escaped. And--he's here!" + +Christopher had begun to pour the whisky into his glass. In his +astonishment he rattled the decanter against the rim. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Here? In this cottage?" + +"In there," answered Miss Pett. "In Kitely's room. Safe and sound. +There's no danger. He'll not wake. I mixed him a glass of toddy before +he went to bed, and neither earthquakes nor fire-alarms 'ull wake him +before nine o'clock tomorrow morning." + +"Whew!" said Christopher. "Um! it's a dangerous game--it's harbouring, +you know. However, they'd suspect that he'd come here. Whatever made him +come here?" + +"I made him come here," replied Miss Pett. "I caught him in the wood +outside there, as I was coming back from the Town Hall, so I made him +come in. It'll pay very well, Chris." + +Mr. Pett, who was lifting his glass to his lips, arrested it in mid-air, +winked over its rim at his aunt, and smiled knowingly. + +"You're a good hand at business, I must say, old lady!" he remarked +admiringly. "Of course, of course, if you're doing a bit of business out +of it----" + +"That'll come tomorrow," said Miss Pett, seating herself at the table +and glancing at her nephew's bag. "We'll do our own business tonight. +Well, how have you come on?" + +Christopher munched and drank for a minute or two. Then he nodded, with +much satisfaction in his manner. + +"Very well," he answered. "I got what I consider a very good price. Sold +the whole lot to another Brixton property-owner, got paid, and have +brought you the money. All of it--ain't even taken my costs, my +expenses, and my commission out of it--yet." + +"How much did you sell for?" asked Miss Pett. + +Christopher pulled his bag to his side and took a bundle of red-taped +documents from it. + +"You ought to think yourself jolly lucky," he said, wagging his head +admonitorily at his aunt. "I see a lot of the state of the property +market, and I can assure you I did uncommonly well for you. I shouldn't +have got what I did if it had been sold by auction. But the man I sold +to was a bit keen, 'cause he's already got adjacent property, and he +gave rather more than he would ha' done in other circumstances. I got," +he continued, consulting the topmost of his papers, "I got, in round +figures, three thousand four hundred--to be exact, three thousand four +hundred, seventeen, five, eleven." + +"Where's the money?" demanded Miss Pett. + +"It's here," answered Christopher, tapping his breast. "In my +pocket-book. Notes, big and little--so that we can settle up." + +Miss Pett stretched out her hand. + +"Hand it over!" she said. + +Christopher gave his aunt a sidelong glance. + +"Hadn't we better reckon up my costs and commission first?" he +suggested. "Here's an account of the costs--the commission, of course, +was to be settled between you and me." + +"We'll settle all that when you've handed the money over," said Miss +Pett. "I haven't counted it yet." + +There was a certain unwillingness in Christopher Pett's manner as he +slowly produced a stout pocket-book and took from it a thick wad of +bank-notes. He pushed this across to his aunt, with a tiny heap of +silver and copper. + +"Well, I'm trusting to you, you know," he said a little doubtfully. +"Don't forget that I've done well for you." + +Miss Pett made no answer. She had taken a pair of spectacles from her +pocket, and with these perched on the bridge of her sharp nose she +proceeded to count the notes, while her nephew alternately sipped at his +toddy and stroked his chin, meanwhile eyeing his relative's proceedings +with somewhat rueful looks. + +"Three thousand, four hundred and seventeen pounds, five shillings and +elevenpence," and Miss Pett calmly. "And them costs, now, and the +expenses--how much do they come to, Chris?" + +"Sixty-one, two, nine," answered Christopher, passing one of his papers +across the table with alacrity. "You'll find it quite right--I did it as +cheap as possible for you." + +Miss Pett set her elbow on her heap of bank-notes while she examined the +statement. That done, she looked over the tops of her spectacles at the +expectant Christopher. + +"Well, about that commission," she said. "Of course, you know, Chris, +you oughtn't to charge me what you'd charge other folks. You ought to do +it very reasonable indeed for me. What were you thinking of, now?" + +"I got the top price," remarked Christopher reflectively. "I got you +quite four hundred more than the market price. How would--how would five +per cent. be, now?" + +Miss Pett threw up the gay turban with a toss of surprise. + +"Five per cent!" she ejaculated. "Christopher Pett!--whatever are you +talking about? Why, that 'ud be a hundred and seventy pound! Eh, +dear!--nothing of the sort--it 'ud be as good as robbery. I'm astonished +at you." + +"Well, how much, then?" growled Christopher. "Hang it all!--don't be +close with your own nephew." + +"I'll give you a hundred pounds--to include the costs," said Miss Pett +firmly. "Not a penny more--but," she added, bending forward and nodding +her head towards that half of the cottage wherein Mallalieu slumbered so +heavily, "I'll give you something to boot--an opportunity of feathering +your nest out of--him!" + +Christopher's face, which had clouded heavily, lightened somewhat at +this, and he too glanced at the door. + +"Will it be worth it?" he asked doubtfully. "What is there to be got out +of him if he's flying from justice? He'll carry naught--and he can't get +at anything that he has, either." + +Miss Pett gave vent to a queer, dry chuckle; the sound of her laughter +always made her nephew think of the clicking of machinery that badly +wanted oiling. + +"He's heaps o' money on him!" she whispered. "After he dropped off +tonight I went through his pockets. We've only got to keep a tight hold +on him to get as much as ever we like! So--put your hundred in your +pocket, and we'll see about the other affair tomorrow." + +"Oh, well, of course, in that case!" said Christopher. He picked up the +banknote which his aunt pushed towards him and slipped it into his +purse. "We shall have to play on his fears a bit, you know," he +remarked. + +"I think we shall be equal to it--between us," answered Miss Pett drily. +"Them big, flabby men's easy frightened." + +Mallalieu was certainly frightened when he woke suddenly next morning to +find Miss Pett standing at the side of his bed. He glared at her for one +instant of wild alarm and started up on his pillows. Miss Pett laid one +of her claw-like hands on his shoulder. + +"Don't alarm yourself, mister," she said. "All's safe, and here's +something that'll do you good--a cup of nice hot coffee--real Mocha, to +which the late Kitely was partial--with a drop o'rum in it. Drink +it--and you shall have your breakfast in half an hour. It's past nine +o'clock." + +"I must have slept very sound," said Mallalieu, following his gaoler's +orders. "You say all's safe? Naught heard or seen?" + +"All's safe, all's serene," replied Miss Pett. "And you're in luck's +way, for there's my nephew Christopher arrived from London, to help me +about settling my affairs and removing my effects from this place, and +he's a lawyer and'll give you good advice." + +Mallalieu growled a little. He had seen Mr. Christopher Pett and he was +inclined to be doubtful of him. + +"Is he to be trusted?" he muttered. "I expect he'll have to be squared, +too!" + +"Not beyond reason," replied Miss Pett. "We're not unreasonable people, +our family. He's a very sensible young man, is Christopher. The late +Kitely had a very strong opinion of his abilities." + +Mallalieu had no doubt of Mr. Christopher Pett's abilities in a certain +direction after he had exchanged a few questions and answers with that +young gentleman. For Christopher was shrewd, sharp, practical and +judicial. + +"It's a very dangerous and--you'll excuse plain speaking under the +circumstances, sir--very foolish thing that you've done, Mr. Mallalieu," +he said, as he and the prisoner sat closeted together in the still +shuttered and curtained parlour-bedroom. "The mere fact of your making +your escape, sir, is what some would consider a proof of guilt--it is +indeed! And of course my aunt--and myself, in my small way--we're +running great risks, Mr. Mallalieu--we really are--great risks!" + +"Now then, you'll not lose by me," said Mallalieu. "I'm not a man of +straw." + +"All very well, sir," replied Christopher, "but even if you were a +millionaire and recompensed us on what I may term a princely scale--not +that we shall expect it, Mr. Mallalieu--the risks would be +extraordinary--ahem! I mean will be extraordinary. For you see, Mr. +Mallalieu, there's two or three things that's dead certain. To start +with, sir, it's absolutely impossible for you to get away from here by +yourself--you can't do it!" + +"Why not?" growled Mallalieu. "I can get away at nightfall." + +"No, sir," affirmed Christopher stoutly. "I saw the condition of the +moors last night. Patrolled, Mr. Mallalieu, patrolled! By men with +lights. That patrolling, sir, will go on for many a night. Make up your +mind, Mr. Mallalieu, that if you set foot out of this house, you'll see +the inside of Norcaster Gaol before two hours is over!" + +"What do you advise, then?" demanded Mallalieu. "Here!--I'm fairly in +for it, so I'll tell you what my notion was. If I can once get to a +certain part of Norcaster, I'm safe. I can get away to the Continent +from there." + +"Then, sir," replied Christopher, "the thing is to devise a plan by +which you can be conveyed to Norcaster without suspicion. That'll have +to be arranged between me and my aunt--hence our risks on your behalf." + +"Your aunt said she'd a plan," remarked Mallalieu. + +"Not quite matured, sir," said Christopher. "It needs a little +reflection and trimming, as it were. Now what I advise, Mr. Mallalieu, +is this--you keep snug here, with my aunt as sentinel--she assures me +that even if the police--don't be frightened, sir!--did come here, she +could hide you quite safely before ever she opened the door to them. As +for me, I'll go, casual-like, into the town, and do a bit of quiet +looking and listening. I shall be able to find out how the land lies, +sir--and when I return I'll report to you, and the three of us will put +our heads together." + +Leaving the captive in charge of Miss Pett, Christopher, having brushed +his silk hat and his overcoat and fitted on a pair of black kid gloves, +strolled solemnly into Highmarket. He was known to a few people there, +and he took good care to let those of his acquaintance who met him hear +that he had come down to arrange his aunt's affairs, and to help in the +removal of the household goods bequeathed to her by the deceased Kitely. +In proof of this he called in at the furniture remover's, to get an +estimate of the cost of removal to Norcaster Docks--thence, said +Christopher, the furniture could be taken by sea to London, where Miss +Pett intended to reside in future. At the furniture remover's, and in +such other shops as he visited, and in the bar-parlour of the Highmarket +Arms, where he stayed an hour or so, gossiping with the loungers, and +sipping a glass or two of dry sherry, Christopher picked up a great deal +of information. And at noon he returned to the cottage, having learned +that the police and everybody in Highmarket firmly believed that +Mallalieu had got clear and clean away the night before, and was already +far beyond pursuit. The police theory was that there had been collusion, +and that immediately on his escape he had been whirled off by some +person to whose identity there was as yet no clue. + +But Christopher Pett told a very different story to Mallalieu. The +moors, he said, were being patrolled night and day: it was believed the +fugitive was in hiding in one of the old quarries. Every road and +entrance to Norcaster, and to all the adjacent towns and stations, was +watched and guarded. There was no hope for Mallalieu but in the kindness +and contrivance of the aunt and the nephew, and Mallalieu recognized the +inevitable and was obliged to yield himself to their tender mercies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +NO FURTHER EVIDENCE + + +While Mallalieu lay captive in the stronghold of Miss Pett, Cotherstone +was experiencing a quite different sort of incarceration in the +detention cells of Norcaster Gaol. Had he known where his partner was, +and under what circumstances Mallalieu had obtained deliverance from +official bolts and bars, Cotherstone would probably have laughed in his +sleeve and sneered at him for a fool. He had been calling Mallalieu a +fool, indeed, ever since the previous evening, when the police, +conducting him to Norcaster, had told him of the Mayor's escape from the +Town Hall. Nobody but an absolute fool, a consummate idiot, thought +Cotherstone, would have done a thing like that. The man who flies is the +man who has reason to fly--that was Cotherstone's opinion, and in his +belief ninety-nine out of every hundred persons in Highmarket would +share it. Mallalieu would now be set down as guilty--they would say he +dared not face things, that he knew he was doomed, that his escape was +the desperate act of a conscious criminal. Ass!--said Cotherstone, not +without a certain amount of malicious delight: they should none of them +have reason to say such things of him. He would make no attempt to +fly--no, not if they left the gate of Norcaster Gaol wide open to him! +It should be his particular care to have himself legally cleared--his +acquittal should be as public as the proceedings which had just taken +place. He went out of the dock with that resolve strong on him; he +carried it away to his cell at Norcaster; he woke in the morning with +it, stronger than ever. Cotherstone, instead of turning tail, was going +to fight--for his own hand. + +As a prisoner merely under detention, Cotherstone had privileges of +which he took good care to avail himself. Four people he desired to see, +and must see at once, on that first day in gaol--and he lost no time in +making known his desires. One--and the most important--person was a +certain solicitor in Norcaster who enjoyed a great reputation as a sharp +man of affairs. Another--scarcely less important--was a barrister who +resided in Norcaster, and had had it said of him for a whole generation +that he had restored more criminals to society than any man of his +profession then living. And the other two were his own daughter and +Windle Bent. Them he must see--but the men of law first. + +When the solicitor and the barrister came, Cotherstone talked to them as +he had never talked to anybody in his life. He very soon let them see +that he had two definite objects in sending for them: the first was to +tell them in plain language that money was of no consideration in the +matter of his defence; the second, that they had come there to hear him +lay down the law as to what they were to do. Talk he did, and they +listened--and Cotherstone had the satisfaction of seeing that they went +away duly impressed with all that he had said to them. He went back to +his cell from the room in which this interview had taken place +congratulating himself on his ability. + +"I shall be out of this, and all'll be clear, a week today!" he assured +himself. "We'll see where that fool of a Mallalieu is by then! For he'll +not get far, nor go hidden for thirty years, this time." + +He waited with some anxiety to see his daughter, not because he must see +her within the walls of a prison, but because he knew that by that time +she would have learned the secrets of that past which he had kept so +carefully hidden from her. Only child of his though she was, he felt +that Lettie was not altogether of his sort; he had often realized that +she was on a different mental plane from his own, and was also, in some +respects, a little of a mystery to him. How would she take all +this?--what would she say?--what effect would it have on her?--he +pondered these questions uneasily while he waited for her visit. + +But if Cotherstone had only known it, he need have suffered no anxiety +about Lettie. It had fallen to Bent to tell her the sad news the +afternoon before, and Bent had begged Brereton to go up to the house +with him. Bent was upset; Brereton disliked the task, though he +willingly shared in it. They need have had no anxiety, either. For +Lettie listened calmly and patiently until the whole story had been +told, showing neither alarm, nor indignation, nor excitement; her +self-composure astonished even Bent, who thought, having been engaged +to her for twelve months, that he knew her pretty well. + +"I understand exactly," said Lettie, when, between them, they had told +her everything, laying particular stress on her father's version of +things. "It is all very annoying, of course, but then it is quite +simple, isn't it? Of course, Mr. Mallalieu has been the guilty person +all through, and poor father has been dragged into it. But then--all +that you have told me has only to be put before the--who is +it?--magistrates?--judges?--and then, of course, father will be entirely +cleared, and Mr. Mallalieu will be hanged. Windle--of course we shall +have to put off the wedding?" + +"Oh, of course!" agreed Bent. "We can't have any weddings until all this +business is cleared up." + +"That'll be so much better," said Lettie. "It really was becoming an +awful rush." + +Brereton glanced at Bent when they left the house. + +"I congratulate you on having a fiancee of a well-balanced mind, old +chap!" he said. "That was--a relief!" + +"Oh, Lettie's a girl of singularly calm and equable temperament," +answered Bent. "She's not easily upset, and she's quick at sizing things +up. And I say, Brereton, I've got to do all I can for Cotherstone, you +know. What about his defence?" + +"I should imagine that Cotherstone is already arranging his defence +himself," said Brereton. "He struck me during that talk this morning at +Tallington's as being very well able to take care of himself, Bent, and +I think you'll find when you visit him that he's already fixed things. +You won't perhaps see why, and I won't explain just now, but this +foolish running away of Mallalieu, who, of course, is sure to be caught, +is very much in Cotherstone's favour. I shall be much surprised if you +don't find Cotherstone in very good spirits, and if there aren't +developments in this affair within a day or two which will impress the +whole neighbourhood." + +Bent, visiting the prisoner in company with Lettie next day, found +Brereton's prediction correct. Cotherstone, hearing from his daughter's +own lips what she herself thought of the matter, and being reassured +that all was well between Bent and her, became not merely confident but +cheerily boastful. He would be free, and he would be cleared by that day +next week--he was not sorry, he said, that at last all this had come +out, for now he would be able to get rid of an incubus that had weighted +him all his life. + +"You're very confident, you know," remarked Bent. + +"Not beyond reason," asserted Cotherstone doggedly. "You wait till +tomorrow!" + +"What is there tomorrow?" asked Bent. + +"The inquest on Stoner is tomorrow," replied Cotherstone. "You be +there--and see and hear what happens." + +All of Highmarket population that could cram itself into the Coroner's +court was there next day when the adjourned inquest on the clerk's death +was held. Neither Bent nor Brereton nor Tallington had any notion of +what line was going to be taken by Cotherstone and his advisers, but +Tallington and Brereton exchanged glances when Cotherstone, in charge +of two warders from Norcaster, was brought in, and when the Norcaster +solicitor and the Norcaster barrister whom he had retained, shortly +afterwards presented themselves. + +"I begin to foresee," whispered Tallington. "Clever!--devilish clever!" + +"Just so," agreed Brereton, with a sidelong nod at the crowded seats +close by. "And there's somebody who's interested because it's going to +be devilish clever--that fellow Pett!" + +Christopher Pett was there, silk hat, black kid gloves and all, not +afraid of being professionally curious. Curiosity was the order of the +day: everybody present--of any intelligent perception--wanted to know +what the presence of Cotherstone, one of the two men accused of the +murder of Stoner, signified. But it was some little time before any +curiosity was satisfied. The inquest being an adjourned one, most of the +available evidence had to be taken, and as a coroner has a wide field in +the calling of witnesses, there was more evidence produced before him +and his jury than before the magistrates. There was Myler, of course, +and old Pursey, and the sweethearting couple: there were other +witnesses, railway folks, medical experts, and townspeople who could +contribute some small quota of testimony. But all these were forgotten +when at last Cotherstone, having been duly warned by the coroner that he +need not give any evidence at all, determinedly entered the +witness-box--to swear on oath that he was witness to his partner's +crime. + +Nothing could shake Cotherstone's evidence. He told a plain, +straightforward story from first to last. He had no knowledge whatever +of Stoner's having found out the secret of the Wilchester affair. He +knew nothing of Stoner's having gone over to Darlington. On the Sunday +he himself had gone up the moors for a quiet stroll. At the spinney +overhanging Hobwick Quarry he had seen Mallalieu and Stoner, and had at +once noticed that something in the shape of a quarrel was afoot. He saw +Mallalieu strike heavily at Stoner with his oak stick--saw Mallalieu, in +a sudden passion, kick the stick over the edge of the quarry, watched +him go down into the quarry and eventually leave it. He told how he +himself had gone after the stick, recovered it, taken it home, and had +eventually told the police where it was. He had never spoken to +Mallalieu on that Sunday--never seen him except under the circumstances +just detailed. + +The astute barrister who represented Cotherstone had not troubled the +Coroner and his jury much by asking questions of the various witnesses. +But he had quietly elicited from all the medical men the definite +opinion that death had been caused by the blow. And when Cotherstone's +evidence was over, the barrister insisted on recalling the two +sweethearts, and he got out of them, separately (each being excluded +from the court while the other gave evidence), that they had not seen +Mallalieu and Cotherstone together, that Mallalieu had left the quarry +some time before they saw Cotherstone, and that when Mallalieu passed +them he seemed to be agitated and was muttering to himself, whereas in +Cotherstone's manner they noticed nothing remarkable. + +Brereton, watching the faces of the jurymen, all tradesmen of the town, +serious and anxious, saw the effect which Cotherstone's evidence and the +further admissions of the two sweethearts was having. And neither he nor +Tallington--and certainly not Mr. Christopher Pett--was surprised when, +in the gathering dusk of the afternoon, the inquest came to an end with +a verdict of _Wilful Murder against Anthony Mallalieu_. + +"Your client is doing very well," observed Tallington to the Norcaster +solicitor as they foregathered in an ante-room. + +"My client will be still better when he comes before your bench again," +drily answered the other. "As you'll see!" + +"So that's the line you're taking?" said Tallington quietly. "A good +one--for him." + +"Every man for himself," remarked the Norcaster practitioner. "We're not +concerned with Mallalieu--we're concerned about ourselves. See you when +Cotherstone's brought before your worthies next Tuesday. And--a word in +your ear!--it won't be a long job, then." + +Long job or short job, the Highmarket Town Hall was packed to the doors +when Cotherstone, after his week's detention, was again placed in the +dock. This time, he stood there alone--and he looked around him with +confidence and with not a few signs that he felt a sense of coming +triumph. He listened with a quiet smile while the prosecuting +counsel--sent down specially from London to take charge--discussed with +the magistrates the matter of Mallalieu's escape, and he showed more +interest when he heard some police information as to how that escape had +been effected, and that up to then not a word had been heard and no +trace found of the fugitive. And after that, as the prosecuting counsel +bent over to exchange a whispered word with the magistrates' clerk, +Cotherstone deliberately turned, and seeking out the place where Bent +and Brereton sat together, favoured them with a peculiar glance. It was +the glance of a man who wished to say "I told you!--now you'll see +whether I was right!" + +"We're going to hear something--now!" whispered Brereton. + +The prosecuting counsel straightened himself and looked at the +magistrates. There was a momentary hesitation on his part; a look of +expectancy on the faces of the men on the bench; a deep silence in the +crowded court. The few words that came from the counsel were sharp and +decisive. + +"There will be no further evidence against the prisoner now in the dock, +your worships," he said. "The prosecution decides to withdraw the +charge." + +In the buzz of excitement which followed the voice of the old chairman +was scarcely audible as he glanced at Cotherstone. + +"You are discharged," he said abruptly. + +Cotherstone turned and left the dock. And for the second time he looked +at Bent and Brereton in the same peculiar, searching way. Then, amidst a +dead silence, he walked out of the court. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE VIRTUES OF SUSPICION + + +During that week Mallalieu was to learn by sad experience that it is a +very poor thing to acquire information at second hand. There he was, a +strictly-guarded--if a cosseted and pampered--prisoner, unable to put +his nose outside the cottage, and entirely dependent on Chris Pett for +any and all news of the world which lay so close at hand and was just +then so deeply and importantly interesting to him. Time hung very +heavily on his hands. There were books enough on the shelves of his +prison-parlour, but the late Kitely's taste had been of a purely +professional nature, and just then Mallalieu had no liking for murder +cases, criminal trials, and that sort of gruesomeness. He was constantly +asking for newspapers, and was skilfully put off--it was not within +Christopher's scheme of things to let Mallalieu get any accurate notion +of what was really going on. Miss Pett did not take in a newspaper; +Christopher invariably forgot to bring one in when he went to the town; +twice, being pressed by Mallalieu to remember, he brought back _The +Times_ of the day before--wherein, of course, Mallalieu failed to find +anything about himself. And it was about himself that he so wanted to +hear, about how things were, how people talked of him, what the police +said, what was happening generally, and his only source of information +was Chris. + +Mr. Pett took good care to represent everything in his own fashion. He +was assiduous in assuring Mallalieu that he was working in his interest +with might and main; jealous in proclaiming his own and his aunt's +intention to get him clear away to Norcaster. But he also never ceased +dilating on the serious nature of that enterprise, never wearied in +protesting how much risk he and Miss Pett were running; never refrained +from showing the captive how very black things were, and how much +blacker they would be if it were not for his present gaolers' goodness. +And when he returned to the cottage after the inquest on Stoner, his +face was unusually long and grave as he prepared to tell Mallalieu the +news. + +"Things are looking in a very bad way for you, Mr. Mallalieu," he +whispered, when he was closeted with Mallalieu in the little room which +the captive now hated fiercely and loathingly. "They look in a very bad +way indeed, sir! If you were in any other hands than ours, Mr. +Mallalieu, I don't know what you'd do. We're running the most fearful +risks on your behalf, we are indeed. Things is--dismal!" + +Mallalieu's temper, never too good, and all the worse for his enforced +confinement, blazed up. + +"Hang it! why don't you speak out plain?" he snarled. "Say what you +mean, and be done with it! What's up now, like? Things are no worse than +they were, I reckon." + +Christopher slowly drew off one of the black kid gloves, and blew into +it before laying it on the table. + +"No need to use strong language, Mr. Mallalieu," he said deprecatingly, +as he calmly proceeded to divest the other hand. "No need at all, +sir--between friends and gentlemen, Mr. Mallalieu!--things are a lot +worse. The coroner's jury has returned a verdict of wilful +murder--against you!" + +Mallalieu's big face turned of a queer grey hue--that word murder was +particularly distasteful to him. + +"Against me!" he muttered. "Why me particularly? There were two of us +charged. What about Cotherstone?" + +"I'm talking about the inquest" said Christopher. "They don't charge +anybody at inquests--they only inquire in general. The verdict's against +you, and you only. And--it was Cotherstone's evidence that did it!" + +"Cotherstone!" exclaimed Mallalieu. "Evidence against me! He's a liar +if----" + +"I'll tell you--all in due order," interrupted Chris. "Be calm, Mr. +Mallalieu, and listen--be judicial." + +But in spite of this exhortation, Mallalieu fumed and fretted, and when +Christopher had told him everything he looked as if it only required a +little resolution on his part to force himself to action. + +"I've a good mind to go straight out o' this place and straight down to +the police!" he growled. "I have indeed!--a great mind to go and give +myself up, and have things proved." + +"Do!" said Christopher, heartily. "I wish you would, sir. It 'ud save me +and my poor aunt a world of trouble. Only--it's my duty as a duly +qualified solicitor of the High Court to inform you that every step you +take from this haven of refuge will be a step towards the--gallows!" + +Mallalieu shrank back in his chair and stared at Mr. Pett's sharp +features. His own blanched once more. + +"You're sure of that?" he demanded hoarsely. + +"Certain!" replied Christopher. "No doubt of it, sir. I know!" + +"What's to be done, then?" asked the captive. + +Christopher assumed his best consultation-and-advice manner. + +"What," he said at last, "in my opinion, is the best thing is to wait +and see what happens when Cotherstone's brought up before the bench next +Tuesday. You're safe enough until then--so long as you do what we tell +you. Although all the country is being watched and searched, there's not +the ghost of a notion that you're in Highmarket. So remain as content as +you can, Mr. Mallalieu, and as soon as we learn what takes place next +Tuesday, we'll see about that plan of ours." + +"Let's be knowing what it is," grumbled Mallalieu. + +"Not quite matured, sir, yet," said Christopher as he rose and picked up +the silk hat and the kid gloves. "But when it is, you'll say--ah, you'll +say it's a most excellent one!" + +So Mallalieu had to wait until the next Tuesday came round. He did the +waiting impatiently and restlessly. He ate, he drank, he slept--slept as +he had never slept in his life--but he knew that he was losing flesh +from anxiety. It was with real concern that he glanced at Christopher +when that worthy returned from the adjourned case on the Tuesday +afternoon. His face fell when he saw that Christopher was gloomier than +ever. + +"Worse and worse, Mr. Mallalieu!" whispered Christopher mysteriously +when he had shut the door. "Everything's against you, sir. It's all +centring and fastening on you. What do you think happened? Cotherstone's +discharged!" + +"What!" exclaimed Mallalieu, jumping in his chair. "Discharged! Why, +then, they'd have discharged me!" + +Christopher laid his finger on the side of his nose. + +"Would they?" he said with a knowing wink. "Not much they wouldn't. +Cotherstone's let loose--to give evidence against you. When you're +caught!" + +Mallalieu's small eyes began to bulge, and a dull red to show on his +cheek. He looked as if he were bursting with words which he could not +get out, and Christopher Pett hastened to improve the occasion. + +"It's my opinion it's all a plant!" he said. "A conspiracy, if you like, +between Cotherstone and the authorities. Cotherstone, he's got the +smartest solicitor in Norcaster and the shrewdest advocate on this +circuit--you know 'em, Mr. Mallalieu--Stilby's the solicitor, and +Gradston the barrister--and it strikes me it's a put-up job. D'ye see +through it? First of all, Cotherstone gives evidence at that inquest: on +his evidence a verdict of murder is returned against--you! Now +Cotherstone's discharged by the magistrates--no further evidence being +offered against him. Why? So that he can give evidence before the +magistrates and at the Assizes against--you! That is--when you're +caught." + +"They've got to catch me yet," growled Mallalieu. "Now then--what about +this plan of yours? For I'm going to wait no longer. Either you tell me +what you're going to do for me, or I shall walk out o' that door as soon +as it's dark tonight and take my chances. D'ye hear that?" + +Christopher rose, opened the door, and softly called Miss Pett. And Miss +Pett came, took a seat, folded her thin arms, and looked attentively at +her learned nephew. + +"Yes, sir," said Christopher, resuming the conversation, "I hear +that--and we are now ready to explain plans and discuss terms. You will, +of course, recompense us, Mr. Mallalieu?" + +"I've said all along that you'd not lose by me," retorted Mallalieu. +"Aught in reason, I'll pay. But--this plan o' yours? I'm going to know +what it is before we come to any question of paying. So out with it!" + +"Well, it's an excellent plan," responded Christopher. "You say that +you'll be safe if you're set down in a certain part of Norcaster--near +the docks. Now that will suit our plans exactly. You're aware, of +course, Mr. Mallalieu, that my aunt here is about to remove her goods +and chattels--bequeathed by Mr. Kitely, deceased--from this house? Very +well--the removal's to take place tomorrow. I have already arranged with +Mr. Strawson, furniture remover, to send up a couple of vans tomorrow +morning, very early. Into those vans the furniture will be placed, and +the vans will convey it to Norcaster, whence they will be transshipped +bodily to London, by sea. Mr. Mallalieu--you'll leave here, sir, in one +of those vans!" + +Mallalieu listened, considered, began to see possibilities. + +"Aye!" he said, with a cunning glance. "Aye!--that's not a bad notion. I +can see my way in that respect. But--how am I going to get into a van +here, and got out of it there, without the vanmen knowing?" + +"I've thought it all out," answered Christopher. "You must keep snug in +this room until afternoon. We'll get the first van off in the +morning--say by noon. I'll so contrive that the second van won't be +ready to start until after it's dusk. When it is ready the men'll go +down to fetch their horses--I'll give 'em something to get themselves a +drink before they come back--that'll delay 'em a bit longer. And while +they're away, we'll slip you into the van--and I shall go with that van +to Norcaster. And when we get to the shed at Norcaster where the vans +are to be left, the two men will go away with their horses--and I shall +let you out. It's a good plan, Mr. Mallalieu." + +"It'll do, anyhow," agreed Mallalieu, who felt heartily relieved. "We'll +try it. But you must take all possible care until I'm in, and we're off. +The least bit of a slip----" + +Mr. Pett drily remarked that if any slips occurred they would not be of +his making--after which both he and his aunt coughed several times and +looked at the guest-prisoner in a fashion which seemed to invite speech +from him. + +"All right then," said Mallalieu. "Tomorrow, you say? All right--all +right!" + +Miss Pett coughed again and began to make pleats in her apron. + +"Of course, Christopher," she said, addressing her nephew as if there +were no other person present, "of course, Mr. Mallalieu has not yet +stated his terms." + +"Oh!--ah!--just so!" replied Christopher, starting as from a pensive +reverie. "Ah, to be sure. Now, what would you say, Mr. Mallalieu? How do +you feel disposed, sir?" + +Mallalieu looked fixedly from aunt to nephew, from nephew to aunt. Then +his face became hard and rigid. + +"Fifty pound apiece!" he said. "That's how I'm disposed. And you don't +get an offer like that every day, I know. Fifty pound apiece!" + +Miss Pett inclined her turbaned head towards her right shoulder and +sighed heavily: Mr. Pett folded his hands, looked at the ceiling, and +whistled. + +"We don't get an offer like that every day!" he murmured. "No!--I should +think we didn't! Fifty pound apiece!--a hundred pound altogether--for +saving a fellow-creature from the gallows! Oh, Mr. Mallalieu!" + +"Hang it!--how much money d'ye think I'm likely to carry on me?--me!--in +my unfortunate position!" snarled Mallalieu. "D'ye think----" + +"Christopher," observed Miss Pett, rising and making for the door, "I +should suggest that Mr. Mallalieu is left to consider matters. Perhaps +when he's reflected a bit----" + +She and her nephew went out, leaving Mallalieu fuming and grumbling. And +once in the living-room she turned to Christopher with a shake of the +head. + +"What did I tell you?" she said. "Mean as a miser! My plan's much the +best. We'll help ourselves--and then we can snap our fingers at him. +I'll give him an extra strong nightcap tonight, and then...." + +But before the close of that evening came Mallalieu's notions underwent +a change. He spent the afternoon in thinking. He knew that he was in the +power of two people who, if they could, would skin him. And the more he +thought, the more he began to be suspicious--and suddenly he wondered +why he slept so heavily at night, and all of a sudden he saw the reason. +Drugged!--that old she-devil was drugging his drink. That was it, of +course--but it had been for the last time: she shouldn't do it again. + +That night when Miss Pett brought the hot toddy, mixed according to the +recipe of the late Kitely, Mallalieu took it at his door, saying he was +arrayed for sleep, and would drink it when in bed. After which he +carefully poured it into a flower-pot that graced his room, and when he +presently lay down it was with eyes and ears open and his revolver ready +to his right hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +MR. WRAYTHWAITE OF WRAYE + + +Had the Mayor of Highmarket, lying there sullen and suspicious, only +known what was taking place close to him at that very moment, only known +what had been happening in his immediate vicinity during the afternoon +and evening, he might have taken some course of action which would have +prevented what was shortly to come. But he knew nothing--except that he +was angry, and full of doubts, and cursed everything and everybody that +had led to this evil turn in his fortunes, and was especially full of +vindictiveness towards the man and woman in the next room, who, as he +felt sure, were trying to take advantage of his present helplessness. +And meanwhile, not far away, things were going on--and they had been +going on all that day since noon. + +Brereton, going away from Highmarket Town Hall after the dramatic +discharge of Cotherstone, was suddenly accosted by a smart-looking young +man whom, at first glance, he knew to be in some way connected with the +law. + +"Mr. Gifford Brereton?" inquired this stranger. "I have a note for you, +sir." + +Brereton took the note and stepped aside into a quiet corner: the young +man followed and stood near. To Brereton's surprise he found himself +looking at a letter in the handwriting of a London solicitor who had two +or three times favoured him with a brief. He hastily glanced through its +contents:-- + + + "THE DUKE'S HEAD HOTEL" + _Norcaster._ + + "DEAR MR. BRERETON,-- + + "I have just arrived at this place on business which is closely + connected with that which you have in hand. I shall be much obliged + if you join me here at once, bringing with you the daughter of your + client Harborough--it is important that she should accompany you. + The bearer will have a car in readiness for you. + + Yours sincerely, + "H. C. CARFAX." + + +Brereton put the note in his pocket and turned to the messenger. + +"Mr. Carfax wishes me to return with you to Norcaster," he remarked. "He +mentions a car." + +"Here, Mr. Brereton--round the corner--a good one, that will run us +there in twenty minutes," replied the messenger. + +"There's a call to make first," said Brereton. He went round the corner +with his companion and recognized in the chauffeur who waited there a +man who had once or twice driven him from Norcaster of late. "Ah!" he +said, "I daresay you know where Mrs. Northrop lives in this town--up +near the foot of the Shawl? You do?--run us up there, then. Are you one +of Mr. Carfax's clerks?" he asked when he and the messenger had got +into the car. "Have you come down with him from London?" + +"No, sir--I am a clerk at Willerby & Hargreaves' in Norcaster," replied +the messenger. "Carfax and Spillington are our London agents. Mr. Carfax +and some other gentlemen came down from town first thing this morning, +and Mr. Carfax got me to bring you that note." + +"You don't know what he wants to see me about?" asked Brereton, who was +already curious to the point of eagerness. + +"Well, sir, I have a pretty good idea," answered the clerk, with a +smile, "but I think Mr. Carfax would rather tell you everything himself. +We shall soon be there, Mr. Brereton--if the young lady doesn't keep +us." + +Brereton ran into Northrop's house and carried Avice off with scant +ceremony. + +"This, of course, has something to do with your father's case," he said, +as he led her down to the car. "It may be--but no, we won't anticipate! +Only--I'm certain things are going to right themselves. Now then!" he +called to the driver as they joined the clerk. "Get along to Norcaster +as fast as you can." + +Within half an hour the car stopped at the old-fashioned gateway of the +Duke's Head in Norcaster market-place, and the clerk immediately led his +two companions into the hotel and upstairs to a private sitting-room, at +the door of which he knocked. A voice bade him enter; he threw the door +open and announced the visitors. + +"Miss Harborough--Mr. Brereton, Mr. Carfax," he said. + +Brereton glanced sharply at the men who stood in the room, evidently +expectant of his and his companion's arrival. Carfax, a short, +middle-aged man, quick and bustling in manner, he, of course, knew: the +others were strangers. Two of them Brereton instantly set down as +detectives; there were all the marks and signs of the craft upon them. +They stood in a window, whispering together, and at them Brereton gave +but a glance. But at the fourth man, who stood on the hearthrug, he +looked long and hard. And his thoughts immediately turned to the night +on which he and Avice had visited the old woman who lived in the lonely +house on the moors and to what she had said about a tall man who had met +Harborough in her presence--a tall, bearded man. For the man who stood +there before him, looking at Avice with an interested, somewhat wistful +smile, was a tall, bearded man--a man past middle age, who looked as if +he had seen a good deal of the far-off places of the world. + +Carfax had hurried forward, shaken hands with Brereton, and turned to +Avice while Brereton was making this rapid inspection. + +"So here you are, Brereton--and this young lady, I suppose, is Miss +Harborough?" he said, drawing a chair forward. "Glad you've come--and I +daresay you're wondering why you've been sent for? Well--all in good +time, but first--this gentleman is Mr. John Wraythwaite." + +The big man started forward, shook hands hastily with Brereton, and +turned more leisurely to Avice. + +"My dear young lady!" he said. "I--I--the fact is, I'm an old friend of +your father's, and--and it will be very soon now that he's all +right--and all that sort of thing, you know! You don't know me, of +course." + +Avice looked up at the big, bearded figure and from it to Brereton. + +"No!" she said. "But--I think it was you who sent that money to Mr. +Brereton." + +"Ah! you're anticipating, young lady!" exclaimed Carfax. "Yes--we've a +lot of talking to do. And we'd better all sit down and do it +comfortably. One moment," he continued, and turned away to the two men +in the window, who, after a few words with him, left the room. "Now +then--we'll do our first part of the business, Brereton!" he went on, as +they all took seats at a table near the fire. "You, of course, don't +know who this gentleman is?" + +"Not at all," replied Brereton. + +"Very good!" continued Carfax, rubbing his hands as if in enjoyment of +the situation. "Then you've some interesting facts to hear about him. To +begin with, he's the man who, when your client, this young lady's +father, is brought up at these coming Assizes, will prove a complete +_alibi_ on his behalf. In other words, he's the man with whom Harborough +was in company during the evening and the greater part of the night on +which Kitely was murdered." + +"I thought so," said Brereton. He looked reflectively at Mr. +Wraythwaite. "But why did you not come forward at once?" he asked. + +"My advice--my advice!" exclaimed Carfax hastily. "I'm going to explain +the reasons. Now, you won't understand, Brereton, but Miss Harborough, I +think, will know what I mean, or she'll have some idea, when I say that +this gentleman is now--now, mind you!--Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye." + +Avice looked up quickly with evident comprehension, and the solicitor +nodded. + +"You see--she knows," he went on, turning to Brereton. "At least, that +conveys something to her. But it doesn't to you. Well, my dear sir, if +you were a native of these parts it would. Wraye is one of the oldest +and most historic estates between here and the Tweed--everybody knows +Wraye. And everybody knows too that there has been quite a romance about +Wraye for some time--since the last Wraythwaite died, in fact. That +Wraythwaite was a confirmed old bachelor. He lived to a great age--he +outlived all his brothers and sisters, of whom he'd had several. He left +quite a tribe of nephews and nieces, who were distributed all over the +world. Needless to say, there was vast bother and trouble. Finally, one +of the nephews made a strong claim to the estate, as being the eldest +known heir. And he was until recently in good trim for establishing his +claim, when my client here arrived on the scene. For he is the eldest +nephew--he is the rightful heir--and I am thankful to say that--only +within this last day or two--his claim has been definitely recognized +and established, and all without litigation. Everything," continued +Carfax, again rubbing his hands with great satisfaction, "everything is +now all right, and Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye will take his proper and +rightful place amongst his own people." + +"I'm exceedingly glad to hear it," said Brereton, with a smile at the +big man, who continued to watch Avice as if his thoughts were with her +rather than with his solicitor's story. "But--you'll understand that I'd +like to know how all this affects my client?" + +"Ye--yes!" said Mr. Wraythwaite, hastily. "Tell Mr. Brereton, +Carfax--never mind me and my affairs--get on to poor Harborough." + +"Your affair and Harborough's are inextricably mixed, my dear sir," +retorted Carfax, good-humouredly. "I'm coming to the mingling of them. +Well," he continued, addressing himself again to Brereton. "This is how +things are--or were. I must tell you that the eldest brother of the late +Squire of Wraye married John Harborough's aunt--secretly. They had not +been married long before the husband emigrated. He went off to +Australia, leaving his wife behind until he had established +himself--there had been differences between him and his family, and he +was straitened in means. In his absence our friend here was born--and at +the same time, sad to say, his mother died. The child was brought up by +Harborough's mother--Mr. Wraythwaite and Harborough are foster-brothers. +It remained in the care of Harborough's mother--who kept the secret of +the marriage--until it was seven years old. Then, opportunity occurring, +it was taken to its father in Australia. The father, Matthew +Wraythwaite, made a big fortune in Australia, sheep-farming. He never +married again, and the fortune, of course, came at his death to his +only son--our friend. Now, he had been told of the secret marriage of +his father, but, being possessed of an ample fortune himself, he +concerned himself little about the rest of the old family. However, a +year or so ago, happening to read in the newspapers about the death of +the old Squire, his uncle, and the difficulty of definitely deciding the +real heirship, he came over to England. But he had no papers relating to +his father's marriage, and he did not know where it had taken place. At +that time he had not consulted me--in fact, he had consulted no one. If +he had consulted me," continued Carfax, with a knowing wink at Brereton, +"we should have put him right in a few hours. But he kept off +lawyers--and he sought out the only man he could remember--his +foster-brother, Harborough. And by Harborough's advice, they met +secretly. Harborough did not know where that marriage had taken +place--he had to make inquiries all over this district--he had to search +registers. Now and then, my client--not my client then, of course--came +to see Harborough; when he did so, he and Harborough met in quiet +places. And on the night on which that man Kitely was murdered," +concluded the solicitor, "Harborough was with my client from nine +o'clock until half-past four in the morning, when he parted with him +near Hexendale railway station. Mr. Wraythwaite will swear that." + +"And fortunately, we have some corroboration," observed Brereton, with a +glance at Avice, "for whether Mr. Wraythwaite knows it or not, his +meeting with Harborough on the moors that particular night was +witnessed." + +"Capital--capital!" exclaimed Carfax. "By a credible--and +creditable--witness?" + +"An old woman of exceptional character," answered Brereton, "except that +she indulges herself in a little night-poaching now and then." + +"Ah, well, we needn't tell that when she goes into the witness-box," +said Carfax. "But that's most satisfactory. My dear young lady!" he +added, turning to Avice, "your father will be released like--like one +o'clock! And then, I think," he went on bustling round on the new Squire +of Wraye, "then, my dear, I think Mr. Wraythwaite here----" + +"Leave that to me, Carfax," interrupted Mr. Wraythwaite, with a nod at +Avice. "I'll tell this young lady all about that myself. In the +meantime----" + +"Ah, just so!" responded Carfax. "In the meantime, we have something not +so interesting or pleasing, but extremely important, to tell Mr. +Brereton. Brereton--how are things going? Has any fresh light been +thrown on the Kitely murder? Nothing really certain and definite you +say? Very well, my dear sir--then you will allow me to throw some light +on it!" + +So saying, Carfax rose from his chair, quitted the room--and within +another minute returned, solemnly escorting the two detectives. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +PAGES FROM THE PAST + + +Before the solicitor and his companions could seat themselves at the +table whereat the former's preliminary explanation had been made, Mr. +Wraythwaite got up and motioned Avice to follow his example. + +"Carfax," he said, "there's no need for me to listen to all that you've +got to tell Mr. Brereton--I know it already. And I don't think it will +particularly interest Miss Harborough at the moment--she'll hear plenty +about it later on. She and I will leave you--make your explanations and +your arrangements, and we'll join you later on." + +He led the way to the door, beckoning Avice to accompany him. But Avice +paused and turned to Brereton. + +"You feel sure that it is all right now about my father?" she said. "You +feel certain? If you do----" + +"Yes--absolutely," answered Brereton, who knew what her question meant. +"And--we will let him know." + +"He knows!" exclaimed Carfax. "That is, he knows that Mr. Wraythwaite +is here, and that everything's all right. Run away, my dear young lady, +and be quite happy--Mr. Wraythwaite will tell you everything you want to +know. And now, my dear sir," he continued, as he shut the door on +Wraythwaite and Avice and bustled back to the table, "there are things +that you want to know, and that you are going to know--from me and from +these two gentlemen. Mr. Stobb--Mr. Leykin. Both ex-Scotland Yard men, +and now in business for themselves as private inquiry agents. Smart +fellows--though I say it to their faces." + +"I gather from that that you have been doing some private inquiry work, +then?" said Brereton. "In connexion with what, now?" + +"Let us proceed in order," answered Carfax, taking a seat at the head of +the table and putting his fingers together in a judicial attitude. "I +will open the case. When Wraythwaite--a fine fellow, who, between +ourselves, is going to do great things for Harborough and his +daughter--when Wraythwaite, I say, heard of what had happened down here, +he was naturally much upset. His first instinct was to rush to +Highmarket at once and tell everything. However, instead of doing that, +he very wisely came to me. Having heard all that he had to tell, I +advised him, as it was absolutely certain that no harm could come to +Harborough in the end, to let matters rest for the time being, until we +had put the finishing touches to his own affair. He, however, insisted +on sending you that money--which was done: nothing else would satisfy +him. But now arose a deeply interesting phase of the whole +affair--which has been up to now kept secret between Wraythwaite, +myself, and Messrs. Stobb and Leykin there. To it I now invite your +attention." + +Mr. Carfax here pulled out a memorandum book from his pocket, and having +fitted on his spectacles glanced at a page or two within it. + +"Now," he presently continued, "Wraythwaite being naturally +deeply interested in the Kitely case, he procured the local +newspapers--Norcaster and Highmarket papers, you know--so that he could +read all about it. There was in those papers a full report of the first +proceedings before the magistrates, and Wraythwaite was much struck by +your examination of the woman Miss Pett. In fact, he was so much struck +by your questions and her replies that he brought the papers to me, and +we read them together. And, although we knew well enough that we should +eventually have no difficulty whatever in proving an _alibi_ in +Harborough's behalf, we decided that in his interest we would make a few +guarded but strict inquiries into Miss Pett's antecedents." + +Brereton started. Miss Pett! Ah!--he had had ideas respecting Miss Pett +at the beginning of things, but other matters had cropped up, and +affairs had moved and developed so rapidly that he had almost forgotten +her. + +"That makes you think," continued Carfax, with a smile. "Just so!--and +what took place at that magistrates' sitting made Wraythwaite and myself +think. And, as I say, we employed Stobb and Leykin, men of great +experience, to--just find out a little about Miss Pett. Of course, Miss +Pett herself had given us something to go on. She had told you some +particulars of her career. She had been housekeeper to a Major Stilman, +at Kandahar Cottage, Woking. She had occupied posts at two London +hotels. So--Stobb went to Woking, and Leykin devoted himself to the +London part of the business. + +"And I think, Stobb," concluded the solicitor, turning to one of the +inquiry agents, "I think you'd better tell Mr. Brereton what you found +out at Woking, and then Leykin can tell us what he brought to light +elsewhere." + +Stobb, a big, cheery-faced man, who looked like a highly respectable +publican, turned to Brereton with a smile. + +"It was a very easy job, sir," he said. "I found out all about the lady +and her connexion with Woking in a very few hours. There are plenty of +folk at Woking who remember Miss Pett--she gave you the mere facts of +her residence there correctly enough. But--naturally--she didn't tell +you more than the mere facts, the surface, as it were. Now, I got at +everything. Miss Pett was housekeeper at Woking to a Major Stilman, a +retired officer of an infantry regiment. All the time she was with +him--some considerable period--he was more or less of an invalid, and he +was well known to suffer terribly from some form of neuralgia. He got +drugs to alleviate the pain of that neuralgia from every chemist in the +place, one time or another. And one day, Major Stilman was found dead in +bed, with some of these drugs by his bedside. Of course an inquest was +held, and, equally of course, the evidence of doctors and chemists +being what it was, a verdict of death from misadventure--overdose of the +stuff, you know--was returned. Against Miss Pett there appears to have +been no suspicion in Woking at that time--and for the matter of that," +concluded Mr. Stobb drily, "I don't know that there is now." + +"You have some yourself?" suggested Brereton. + +"I went into things further," answered Mr. Stobb, with the ghost of a +wink. "I found out how things were left--by Stilman. Stilman had nothing +but his pension, and a capital sum of about two thousand pounds. He left +that two thousand, and the furniture of his house, to Miss Pett. The +will had been executed about a twelvemonth before Stilman died. It was +proved as quickly as could be after his death, and of course Miss Pett +got her legacy. She sold the furniture--and left the neighbourhood." + +"What is your theory?" asked Brereton. + +Mr. Stobb nodded across the table at Carfax. + +"Not my business to say what my theories are, Mr. Brereton," he +answered. "All I had to do was to find out facts, and report them to Mr. +Carfax and Mr. Wraythwaite." + +"All the same," said Brereton quietly, "you think it quite possible that +Miss Pett, knowing that Stilman took these strong doses, and having a +pecuniary motive, gave him a still stronger one? Come, now!" + +Stobb smiled, rubbed his chin and looked at Carfax. And Carfax pointed +to Stobb's partner, a very quiet, observant man who had listened with a +sly expression on his face. + +"Your turn, Leykin," he said. "Tell the result of your inquiries." + +Leykin was one of those men who possess soft voices and slow speech. +Invited to play his part, he looked at Brereton as if he were half +apologizing for anything he had to say. + +"Well," he said, "of course, sir, what Miss Pett told you about her +posts at two London hotels was quite right. She had been storekeeper at +one, and linen-keeper at another--before she went to Major Stilman. +There was nothing against her at either of those places. But of course I +wanted to know more about her than that. Now she said in answer to you +that before she went to the first of those hotels she had lived at home +with her father, a Sussex farmer. So she had--but it was a long time +before. She had spent ten years in India between leaving home and going +to the Royal Belvedere. She went out to India as a nurse in an officer's +family. And while she was in India she was charged with strangling a +fellow-servant--a Eurasian girl who had excited her jealousy." + +Brereton started again at that, and he turned a sharp glance on Carfax, +who nodded emphatically and signed to Leykin to proceed. + +"I have the report of that affair in my pocket," continued Leykin, more +softly and slowly than ever. "It's worth reading, Mr. Brereton, and +perhaps you'll amuse yourself with it sometime. But I can give you the +gist of it in a few words. Pett was evidently in love with her master's +orderly. He wasn't in love with her. She became madly jealous of this +Eurasian girl, who was under-nurse. The Eurasian girl was found near the +house one night with a cord tightly twisted round her neck--dead, of +course. There were no other signs of violence, but some gold ornaments +which the girl wore had disappeared. Pett was tried--and she was +discharged, for she set up an _alibi_--of a sort that wouldn't have +satisfied me," remarked Leykin in an aside. "But there was a queer bit +of evidence given which you may think of use now. One of the witnesses +said that Pett had been much interested in reading some book about the +methods of the Thugs, and had talked in the servants' quarters of how +they strangled their victims with shawls of the finest silk. Now this +Eurasian girl had been strangled with a silk handkerchief--and if that +handkerchief could only have been traced to Pett, she'd have been found +guilty. But, as I said, she was found not guilty--and she left her place +at once and evidently returned to England. That's all, sir." + +"Stobb has a matter that might be mentioned," said Carfax, glancing at +the other inquiry agent. + +"Well, it's not much, Mr. Brereton," said Stobb. "It's merely that we've +ascertained that Kitely had left all he had to this woman, and that----" + +"I know that," interrupted Brereton. "She made no concealment of it. Or, +rather, her nephew, acting for her, didn't." + +"Just so," remarked Stobb drily. "But did you know that the nephew had +already proved the will, and sold the property? No?--well, he has! Not +much time lost, you see, after the old man's death, sir. In fact, it's +been done about as quickly as it well could be done. And of course Miss +Pett will have received her legacy--which means that by this time she'll +have got all that Kitely had to leave." + +Brereton turned to the solicitor, who, during the recital of facts by +the two inquiry agents, had maintained his judicial attitude, as if he +were on the bench and listening to the opening statements of counsel. + +"Are you suggesting, all of you that you think Miss Pett murdered +Kitely?" he asked. "I should like a direct answer to that question." + +"My dear sir!" exclaimed Carfax. "What does it look like? You've heard +the woman's record! The probability is that she did murder that +Eurasian, girl--that she took advantage of Stilman's use of drugs to +finish him off. She certainly benefited by Stilman's death--and she's +without doubt benefited by Kitely's. I repeat--what does it look like?" + +"What do you propose to do?" asked Brereton. + +The inquiry agents glanced at each other and then at Carfax. And Carfax +slowly took off his spectacles with a flourish, and looked more judicial +than ever as he answered the young barrister's question. + +"I will tell you what I propose to do," he replied. "I propose to take +these two men over to Highmarket this evening and to let them tell the +Highmarket police all they have just told you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +WITHOUT THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCE + + +Everything was very quiet in the house where Mallalieu lay wide-awake +and watchful. It seemed to him that he had never known it so quiet +before. It was quiet at all times, both day and night, for Miss Pett had +a habit of going about like a cat, and Christopher was decidedly of the +soft-footed order, and stepped from one room to another as if he were +perpetually afraid of waking somebody or trusting his own weight on his +own toes. But on this particular night the silence seemed to be +unusual--and it was all the deeper because no sound, not even the faint +sighing of the wind in the firs and pines outside came to break it. And +Mallalieu's nerves, which had gradually become sharpened and irritated +by his recent adventures and his close confinement, became still more +irritable, still more set on edge, and it was with difficulty that he +forced himself to lie still and to listen. Moreover, he was feeling the +want of the stuff which had soothed him into such sound slumber every +night since he had been taken in charge by Miss Pett, and he knew very +well that though he had flung it away his whole system was crying out +for the lack of it. + +What were those two devils after, he wondered as he lay there in the +darkness? No good--that was certain. Now that he came to reflect upon it +their conduct during the afternoon and evening had not been of a +reassuring sort. Christopher had kept entirely away from him; he had not +seen Christopher at all since the discussion of the afternoon, which +Miss Pett had terminated so abruptly. He had seen Miss Pett twice or +thrice--Miss Pett's attitude on each occasion had been that of injured +innocence. She had brought him his tea in silence, his supper with no +more than a word. It was a nice supper--she set it before him with an +expression which seemed to say that however badly she herself was +treated, she would do her duty by others. And Mallalieu, seeing that +expression, had not been able to refrain from one of his sneering +remarks. + +"Think yourself very badly done to, don't you, missis!" he had exclaimed +with a laugh. "Think I'm a mean 'un, what?" + +"I express no opinion, Mr. Mallalieu," replied Miss Pett, frigidly and +patiently. "I think it better for people to reflect. A night's +reflection," she continued as she made for the door, "oft brings wisdom, +even to them as doesn't usually cultivate it." + +Mallalieu had no objection to the cultivation of wisdom--for his own +benefit, and he was striving to produce something from the process as he +lay there, waiting. But he said to himself that it was easy enough to be +wise after the event--and for him the event had happened. He was in the +power of these two, whom he had long since recognized as an +unscrupulous woman and a shifty man. They had nothing to do but hand +him over to the police if they liked: for anything he knew, Chris Pett +might already have played false and told the police of affairs at the +cottage. And yet on deeper reflection, he did not think that +possible--for it was evident that aunt and nephew were after all they +could get, and they would get nothing from the police authorities, while +they might get a good deal from him. But--what did they expect to get +from him? He had been a little perplexed by their attitude when he asked +them if they expected him to carry a lot of money on him--a fugitive. +Was it possible--the thought came to him like a thunderclap in the +darkness--that they knew, or had some idea, of what he really had on +him? That Miss Pett had drugged him every night he now felt sure--well, +then, in that case how did he know that she hadn't entered his room and +searched his belongings, and especially the precious waistcoat? + +Mallalieu had deposited that waistcoat in the same place every night--on +a chair which stood at the head of his bed. He had laid it folded on the +chair, had deposited his other garments in layers upon it, had set his +candlestick and a box of matches on top of all. And everything had +always been there, just as he had placed things, every morning when he +opened his eyes. But--he had come to know Miss Pett's stealthiness by +that time, and ... + +He put out a hand now and fingered the pile of garments which lay, +neatly folded, within a few inches of his head. It was all right, then, +of course, and his hand drew back--to the revolver, separated from his +cheek by no more than the thickness of the pillow. The touch of that +revolver made him begin speculating afresh. If Miss Pett or Christopher +had meddled with the waistcoat, the revolver, too, might have been +meddled with. Since he had entered the cottage, he had never examined +either waistcoat or revolver. Supposing the charges had been +drawn?--supposing he was defenceless, if a pinch came? He began to sweat +with fear at the mere thought, and in the darkness he fumbled with the +revolver in an effort to discover whether it was still loaded. And just +then came a sound--and Mallalieu grew chill with suspense. + +It was a very small sound--so small that it might have been no more than +that caused by the scratch of the tiniest mouse in the wainscot. But in +that intense silence it was easily heard--and with it came the faint +glimmering of a light. The light widened--there was a little further +sound--and Mallalieu, peeping at things through his eyelashes became +aware that the door was open, that a tall, spare figure was outlined +between the bed and the light without. And in that light, outside the +door, well behind the thin form of Miss Pett, he saw Christopher Pett's +sharp face and the glint of his beady eyes. + +Mallalieu was sharp enough of thought, and big man though he was, he had +always been quick of action. He knew what Miss Pett's objective was, and +he let her advance half-way across the room on her stealthy path to the +waistcoat. But silently as she came on with that cat-like tread, +Mallalieu had just as silently drawn the revolver from beneath his +pillow and turned its small muzzle on her. It had a highly polished +barrel, that revolver, and Miss Pett suddenly caught a tiny +scintillation of light on it--and she screamed. And as she screamed +Mallalieu fired, and the scream died down to a queer choking sound ... +and he fired again ... and where Christopher Pett's face had shown +itself a second before there was nothing--save another choking sound and +a fall in the entry where Christopher had stood and watched. + +After that followed a silence so deep that Mallalieu felt the drums of +his ears aching intensely in the effort to catch any sound, however +small. But he heard nothing--not even a sigh. It was as if all the awful +silences that had ever been in the cavernous places of the world had +been crystallized into one terrible silence and put into that room. + +He reached out at last and found his candle and the matches, and he got +more light and leaned forward in the bed, looking. + +"Can't ha' got 'em both!" he muttered. "Both? But----" + +He slowly lifted himself out of bed, huddled on some of the garments +that lay carefully folded on the chair, and then, holding the candle to +the floor, went forward to where the woman lay. She had collapsed +between the foot of the bed and the wall; her shoulders were propped +against the wall and the grotesque turban hung loosely down on one +shoulder. And Mallalieu knew in that quick glance that she was dead, and +he crept onward to the door and looked at the other still figure, lying +just as supinely in the passage that led to the living-room. He looked +longer at that ... and suddenly he turned back into his +parlour-bedchamber, and carefully avoiding the dead woman put on his +boots and began to dress with feverish haste. + +And while he hurried on his clothes Mallalieu thought. He was not sure +that he had meant to kill these two. He would have delighted in killing +them certainly, hating them as he did, but he had an idea that when he +fired he only meant to frighten them. But that was neither here nor +there now. They were dead, but he was alive--and he must get out of +that, and at once. The moors--the hills--anywhere.... + +A sudden heavy knocking at the door at the back of the cottage set +Mallalieu shaking. He started for the front--to hear knocking there, +too. Then came voices demanding admittance, and loudly crying the dead +woman's name. He crept to a front window at that, and carefully drew a +corner of the blind and looked out, and saw many men in the garden. One +of them had a lantern, and as its glare glanced about Mallalieu set eyes +on Cotherstone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +COTHERSTONE + + +Cotherstone walked out of the dock and the court and the Town Hall +amidst a dead silence--which was felt and noticed by everybody but +himself. At that moment he was too elated, too self-satisfied to notice +anything. He held his head very high as he went out by the crowded +doorway, and through the crowd which had gathered on the stairs; he +might have been some general returning to be publicly feted as he +emerged upon the broad steps under the Town Hall portico and threw a +triumphant glance at the folk who had gathered there to hear the latest +news. And there, in the open air, and with all those staring eyes upon +him, he unconsciously indulged in a characteristic action. He had caused +his best clothes to be sent to him at Norcaster Gaol the previous night, +and he had appeared in them in the dock. The uppermost garment was an +expensive overcoat, finished off with a deep fur collar: now, as he +stood there on the top step, facing the crowd, he unbuttoned the coat, +threw its lapels aside, and took a long, deep breath, as if he were +inhaling the free air of liberty. There were one or two shrewd and +observant folk amongst the onlookers--it seemed to them that this +unconscious action typified that Cotherstone felt himself throwing off +the shackles which he had worn, metaphorically speaking, for the last +eight days. + +But in all that crowd, no one went near Cotherstone. There were many of +his fellow-members of the Corporation in it--councillors, aldermen--but +none of them approached him or even nodded to him; all they did was to +stare. The news of what had happened had quickly leaked out: it was +known before he came into view that Cotherstone had been discharged--his +appearance in that bold, self-assured fashion only led to covert +whispers and furtive looks. But suddenly, from somewhere in the crowd, a +sneering voice flung a contemptuous taunt across the staring faces. + +"Well done, Cotherstone!--saved your own neck, anyway!" + +There was a ripple of jeering laughter at that, and as Cotherstone +turned angrily in the direction from whence the voice came, another, +equally contemptuous, lifted itself from another corner of the crowd. + +"King's evidence! Yah!--who'd believe Cotherstone? Liar!" + +Cotherstone's face flushed angrily--the flush died as quickly away and +gave place to a sickly pallor. And at that a man who had stood near him +beneath the portico, watching him inquisitively, stepped nearer and +whispered-- + +"Go home, Mr. Cotherstone!--take my advice, and get quietly away, at +once!" + +Cotherstone rejected this offer of good counsel with a sudden spasm of +furious anger. + +"You be hanged!" he snarled. "Who's asking you for your tongue? D'ye +think I'm afraid of a pack like yon? Who's going to interfere with me, +I'd like to know? Go home yourself!" + +He turned towards the door from which he had just emerged--turned to see +his solicitor and his counsel coming out together. And his sudden anger +died down, and his face relaxed to a smile of triumph. + +"Now then!" he exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you how it would be, a week +since! Come on across to the Arms and I'll stand a bottle--aye, two, +three, if you like!--of the very best. Come on, both of you." + +The solicitor, glancing around, saw something of the state of affairs, +hurriedly excused himself, and slipped back into the Town Hall by +another entrance. But the barrister, a man who, great as his forensic +abilities were, was one of those people who have no private reputation +to lose, and of whom it was well known that he could never withstand the +temptation to a bottle of champagne, assented readily, and with great +good humour. And he and Cotherstone, arm in arm, walked down the steps +and across the Market Place--and behind them the crowd sneered and +laughed and indulged in audible remarks. + +Cotherstone paid, or affected to pay, no heed. He steered his companion +into the Arms, and turned into the great bow-windowed room which served +as morning meeting-place for all the better class of loungers and +townsmen in Highmarket. The room was full already. Men had come across +from the court, and from the crowd outside; a babel of talk arose from +every corner. But when Cotherstone and the well-known barrister (so +famous in that circuit for his advocacy of criminals that he had +acquired the nickname of the Felons' Friend) entered, a dead silence +fell, and men looked at this curious pair and then at each other with +significant glances. + +In that silence, Cotherstone, seizing a waiter, loudly demanded +champagne and cigars: he glared defiantly around him as he supplemented +the order with a command for the best box of cigars in the house, the +best champagne in the cellars. A loud laugh from some corner of the room +broke the silence, and the waiter, a shrewd fellow who saw how things +were, gave Cotherstone a look. + +"Come into the small parlour, Mr. Cotherstone," he whispered. "Nobody in +there--you'll be more comfortable, sir." + +"All right, then," responded Cotherstone. He glared once more at the +company around him, and his defiance suddenly broke out in another +fashion. "Any friend of mine that likes to join us," he said pointedly, +"is welcome. Who's coming, like?" + +There was another hoarse laugh at this, and most of the men there turned +their backs on Cotherstone and began to talk loudly. But one or two of +the less particular and baser sort, whom Cotherstone would certainly not +have called friends a week before, nudged each other and made towards +the door which the waiter held invitingly open--it was not every day +that the best champagne and the best cigars were to be had for nothing, +and if Cotherstone liked to fling his money about, what did it matter, +so long as they benefited by his folly? + +"That's the style!" said Cotherstone, pushing the barrister along. +"Bring two--bring three bottles," he cried to the waiter. "Big +'uns!--and the best." + +An elderly man, one of Cotherstone's fellow-members of the Corporation, +came forward and caught him by the arm. + +"Cotherstone!" he whispered. "Don't be a fool! Think of what's only just +over. Go home, like a good fellow--go quietly home. You're doing no good +with this--you'll have all the town talking!" + +"Hang the town, and you too!" snapped Cotherstone. "You're one of them +that shouted at me in front of the Town Hall, curse you! I'll let you +and all Highmarket see what I care for you. What's it to you if I have a +quiet glass of wine with my friends?" + +But there was no quiet drinking of a glass of wine in the parlour to +which Cotherstone and his cronies retired. Whenever its door opened +Cotherstone's excited tones were heard in the big room, and the more +sober-minded of the men who listened began to shake their heads. + +"What's the matter with him?" asked one. "Nobody ever knew him like this +before! What's he carrying on in that fashion for?" + +"He's excited with getting off," said another. "And that bit of a scene +outside there threw him off his balance. He should ha' been taken +straight home. Nice lot he's got with him, too! We all know what yon +barrister chap is--he can drink champagne like water, they say, and for +the others--listen to that, now!" he added as a burst of excited talking +came through the opened door. "He'll be in a fine fit state to go home +to that daughter of his, I know, if that goes on." + +"It mustn't go on," said another, and got up. "I'll go across to Bent's +and get him to come over and take Cotherstone away. Bent's the only man +that'll have any influence with him." + +He went out and crossed the Market Place to Bent's office. But Bent was +not there. By his advice Lettie had gone to stay with some friends until +the recent proceedings were over in one way or another, and Bent +himself, as soon as Cotherstone had left the court, had hurried away to +catch a train to the town in which she was temporarily staying in order +to tell her the news and bring her home. So the would-be doer-of-good +went back disappointed--and as he reached the hotel, Cotherstone and the +barrister emerged from it, parted at the door with evident great +cordiality, and went their several ways. And Cotherstone, passing the +man who had been to Bent's, stared him in the face and cut him dead. + +"It's going to be war to the knife between Cotherstone and the town," +remarked the ambassador, when he re-entered the big room and joined his +own circle. "He passed me just now as if I were one of the paving-stones +he trod on! And did you see his face as he went out?--egad, instead of +looking as if he'd had too much to drink, he looked too sober to please +me. You mind if something doesn't happen--yon fellow's desperate!" + +"What should he be desperate about?" asked one of the group. "He's saved +his own neck!" + +"It was that shouting at him when he came out that did it," observed +another man quietly. "He's the sort of man to resent aught like that. If +Cotherstone thinks public opinion's against him--well, we shall see!" + +Cotherstone walked steadily away through the Market Place when he left +the barrister. Whatever the men in the big room might have thought, he +had not been indulging too freely in the little parlour. He had pressed +champagne on the group around him, but the amount he had taken himself +had not been great and it had pulled him together instead of +intoxicating him. And his excitement had suddenly died down, and he had +stopped what might have developed into a drinking bout by saying that he +must go home. And once outside, he made for his house, and as he went he +looked neither to right nor left, and if he met friend or acquaintance +his face became hard as flint. + +Cotherstone, indeed, was burning and seething with indignation. The +taunts flung at him as he stood on the Town Hall steps, the looks turned +in his direction as he walked away with the convivially inclined +barrister, the expression on the faces of the men in the big room at the +Highmarket Arms--all these things had stung him to the quick. He knew, +whatever else he might have been, or was, he had proved a faithful +servant to the town. He had been a zealous member of the Corporation, he +had taken hold of the financial affairs of the borough when they were in +a bad way and had put them in a safe and prosperous footing; he had +worked, thought, and planned for the benefit of the place--and this was +his reward! For he knew that those taunts, those looks, those +half-averted, half-sneering faces meant one thing, and one thing +only--the Highmarket men believed him equally guilty with Mallalieu, and +had come to the conclusion that he was only let off in order that direct +evidence against Mallalieu might be forthcoming. He cursed them deeply +and bitterly--and sneered at them in the same breath, knowing that even +as they were weathercocks, veering this way and that at the least breath +of public opinion, so they were also utter fools, wholly unable to see +or to conjecture. + +The excitement that had seized upon Cotherstone in face of that public +taunting of him died away in the silence of his own house--when Lettie +and Bent returned home in the course of the afternoon they found him +unusually cool and collected. Bent had come with uneasy feelings and +apprehensions; one of the men who had been at the Highmarket Arms had +chanced to be in the station when he and Lettie arrived, and had drawn +him aside and told him of what had occurred, and that Cotherstone was +evidently going on the drink. But there were no signs of anything +unusual about Cotherstone when Bent found him. He said little about the +events of the morning to either Bent or Lettie; he merely remarked that +things had turned out just as he had expected and that now perhaps they +would get matters settled; he had tea with them; he was busy with his +books and papers in his own room until supper-time; he showed no signs +of anything unusual at supper, and when an hour later he left the house, +saying that he must go down to the office and fetch the accumulated +correspondence, his manner was so ordinary that Bent saw no reason why +he should accompany him. + +But Cotherstone had no intention of going to his office. He left his +house with a fixed determination. He would know once and for all what +Highmarket felt towards and about him. He was not the man to live under +suspicion and averted looks, and if he was to be treated as a suspect +and a pariah he would know at once. + +There was at that time in Highmarket a small and select club, having its +house in the Market Place, to which all the principal townsmen belonged. +Both Mallalieu and Cotherstone had been members since its foundation; +Cotherstone, indeed, was its treasurer. He knew that the club would be +crowded that night--very well, he would go there and boldly face public +opinion. If his fellow-members cut him, gave him the cold shoulder, +ignored him--all right, he would know what to do then. + +But Cotherstone never got inside the club. As he set his foot on the +threshold he met one of the oldest members--an alderman of the borough, +for whom he had a great respect. This man, at sight of him, started, +stopped, laid a friendly but firm hand on his arm, and deliberately +turned him round. + +"No, my lad!" he said kindly. "Not in there tonight! If you don't know +how to take care of yourself, let a friend take care of you. Have a bit +of sense, Cotherstone! Do you want to expose yourself again to what you +got outside the Town Hall this noon! No--no!--go away, my lad, go +home--come home with me, if you like--you're welcome!" + +The last word softened Cotherstone: he allowed himself to be led away +along the street. + +"I'm obliged to you," he said brusquely. "You mean well. But--do you +mean to say that those fellows in there--men that know me--are +thinking--that!" + +"It's a hard, censorious world, this," answered the elder man. "Leave +'em alone a bit--don't shove yourself on 'em. Come away--come home and +have a cigar with me." + +"Thank you," said Cotherstone. "You wouldn't ask me to do that if you +thought as they do. Thank you! But I've something to do--and I'll go and +do it at once." + +He pressed his companion's arm, and turned away--and the other man +watching him closely, saw him walk off to the police-station, to the +superintendent's private door. He saw him enter--and at that he shook +his head and went away himself, wondering what it was that Cotherstone +wanted with the police. + +The superintendent, tired by a long day's work, was taking his ease with +his pipe and his glass when Cotherstone was shown into his parlour. He +started with amazement at the sight of his visitor: Cotherstone motioned +him back to his chair. + +"Don't let me disturb you," said Cotherstone. "I want a word or two with +you in private--that's all." + +The superintendent had heard of the scene at the hotel, and had had his +fears about its sequel. But he was quick to see that his visitor was not +only sober, but remarkably cool and normal, and he hastened to offer +him a glass of whisky. + +"Aye, thank you, I will," replied Cotherstone, seating himself. "It'll +be the first spirits I've tasted since you locked me up, and I daresay +it'll do me no harm. Now then," he went on as the two settled themselves +by the hearth, "I want a bit of a straight talk with you. You know +me--we've been friends. I want you to tell me, straight, plain, +truthful--what are Highmarket folk thinking and saying about me? Come!" + +The superintendent's face clouded and he shook his head. + +"Well, you know what folks will be, Mr. Cotherstone!" he answered. "And +you know how very ready to say nasty things these Highmarket people are. +I'm not a Highmarket man myself, any more than you are, and I've always +regarded 'em as very bitter-tongued folk, and so----" + +"Out with it!" said Cotherstone. "Let's know the truth--never mind what +tongues it comes from. What are they saying?" + +"Well," replied the superintendent, reluctantly, "of course I get to +hear everything. If you must have it, the prevailing notion is that both +you and Mr. Mallalieu had a hand in Kitely's death. They think his +murder's at your doors, and that what happened to Stoner was a +by-chance. And if you want the whole truth, they think you're a deal +cleverer than Mallalieu, and that Kitely probably met his end at your +hands, with your partner's connivance. And there are those who say that +if Mallalieu's caught--as he will be--he'll split on you. That's all, +sir." + +"And what do you think?" demanded Cotherstone. + +The superintendent shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"I've never been able to bring myself to think that either you or +Mallalieu 'ud murder a man in cold blood, as Kitely was murdered," he +said. "As regards Stoner, I've firmly held to it that Mallalieu struck +him in a passion. But--I've always felt this--you, or Mallalieu, or both +of you, know more about the Kitely affair than you've ever told!" + +Cotherstone leaned forward and tapped his host on the arm. + +"I do!" he said significantly. "You're right in that. I--do!" + +The superintendent laid down his pipe and looked at his visitor gravely. + +"Then for goodness sake, Mr. Cotherstone," he exclaimed, "for goodness +sake, tell! For as sure as we're sitting here, as things are at present, +Mallalieu 'll hang if you don't! If he doesn't hang for Stoner, he will +for Kitely, for if he gets off over Stoner he'll be re-arrested on the +other charge." + +"Half an hour ago," remarked Cotherstone, "I shouldn't have minded if +Mallalieu had been hanged half a dozen times. Revenge is sweet--and I've +good reason for being revenged on Mallalieu. But now--I'm inclined to +tell the truth. Do you know why? Why--to show these Highmarket folks +that they're wrong!" + +The superintendent sighed. He was a plain, honest, simple man, and +Cotherstone's reason seemed a strange--even a wicked one--to him. To +tell the truth merely to spite one's neighbour--a poor, poor reason, +when there was life at stake. + +"Aye, Mr. Cotherstone, but you ought to tell the truth in any case!" he +said. "If you know it, get it out and be done with it. We've had enough +trouble already. If you can clear things up----" + +"Listen!" interrupted Cotherstone. "I'll tell you all I know--privately. +If you think good, it can be put into proper form. Very well, then! You +remember the night of Kitely's murder?" + +"Aye, I should think so!" said the superintendent. "Good reason to!" + +"Let your mind go back to it, and to what you've since heard of it," +said Cotherstone. "You know that on that afternoon Kitely had threatened +me and Mallalieu with exposure about the Wilchester affair. He wanted to +blackmail us. I told Mallalieu, of course--we were both to think about +it till next day. But I did naught but think--I didn't want exposure for +my daughter's sake: I'd ha' given anything to avoid it, naturally. I had +young Bent and that friend of his, Brereton, to supper that night--I was +so full of thought that I went out and left 'em for an hour or more. The +truth was I wanted to get a word with Kitely. I went up the wood at the +side of my house towards Kitely's cottage--and all of a sudden I came +across a man lying on the ground--him!--just where we found him +afterwards." + +"Dead?" asked the superintendent. + +"Only just," replied Cotherstone. "But he was dead--and I saw what had +caused his death, for I struck a match to look at him. I saw that empty +pocket-book lying by--I saw a scrap of folded newspaper, too, and I +picked it up and later, when I'd read it, I put it in a safe place--I've +taken it from that place tonight for the first time, and it's here--you +keep it. Well--I went on, up to the cottage. The door was open--I looked +in. Yon woman, Miss Pett, was at the table by the lamp, turning over +some papers--I saw Kitely's writing on some of 'em. I stepped softly in +and tapped her on the arm, and she screamed and started back. I looked +at her. 'Do you know that your master's lying dead, murdered, down +amongst those trees?' I said. Then she pulled herself together, and she +sort of got between me and the door. 'No, I don't!' she says. 'But if he +is, I'm not surprised, for I've warned him many a time about going out +after nightfall.' I looked hard at her. 'What're you doing with his +papers there?' I says. 'Papers!' she says. 'They're naught but old bills +and things that he gave me to sort.' 'That's a lie!' I says, 'those +aren't bills and I believe you know something about this, and I'm off +for the police--to tell!' Then she pushed the door to behind her and +folded her arms and looked at me. 'You tell a word,' she says, 'and I'll +tell it all over the town that you and your partner's a couple of +ex-convicts! I know your tale--Kitely'd no secrets from me. You stir a +step to tell anybody, and I'll begin by going straight to young +Bent--and I'll not stop at that, neither.' So you see where I was--I was +frightened to death of that old affair getting out, and I knew then that +Kitely was a liar and had told this old woman all about it, and--well, +I hesitated. And she saw that she had me, and she went on, 'You hold +your tongue, and I'll hold mine!' she says. 'Nobody'll accuse me, I +know--but if you speak one word, I'll denounce you! You and your partner +are much more likely to have killed Kitely than I am!' Well, I still +stood, hesitating. 'What's to be done?' I asked at last. 'Do naught,' +she said. 'Go home, like a wise man, and know naught about it. Let him +be found--and say naught. But if you do, you know what to expect.' 'Not +a word that I came in here, then?' I said at last. 'Nobody'll get no +words from me beyond what I choose to give 'em', she says. 'And--silence +about the other?' I said. 'Just as long as you're silent,' she says. And +with that I walked out--and I set off towards home by another way. And +just as I was leaving the wood to turn into the path that leads into our +lane I heard a man coming along and I shrank into some shrubs and +watched for him till he came close up. He passed me and went on to the +cottage--and I slipped back then and looked in through the window, and +there he was, and they were both whispering together at the table. And +it--was this woman's nephew--Pett, the lawyer." + +The superintendent, whose face had assumed various expressions during +this narrative, lifted his hands in amazement. + +"But--but we were in and about that cottage most of that +night--afterwards!" he exclaimed. "We never saw aught of him. I know he +was supposed to come down from London the _next_ night, but----" + +"Tell you he was there _that_ night!" insisted Cotherstone. "D'ye think +I could mistake him? Well, I went home--and you know what happened +afterwards: you know what she said and how she behaved when we went +up--and of course I played my part. But--that bit of newspaper I've +given you. I read it carefully that night, last thing. It's a column cut +out of a Woking newspaper of some years ago--it's to do with an inquest +in which this woman was concerned--there seems to be some evidence that +she got rid of an employer of hers by poison. And d'ye know what I +think, now?--I think that had been sent to Kitely, and he'd plagued her +about it, or held it out as a threat to her--and--what is it?" + +The superintendent had risen and was taking down his overcoat. + +"Do you know that this woman's leaving the town tomorrow?" he said. "And +there's her nephew with her, now--been here for a week? Of course, I +understand why you've told me all this, Mr. Cotherstone--now that your +old affair at Wilchester is common knowledge, far and wide, you don't +care, and you don't see any reason for more secrecy?" + +"My reason," answered Cotherstone, with a grim smile, "is to show +Highmarket folk that they aren't so clever as they think. For the +probability is that Kitely was killed by that woman, or her nephew, or +both." + +"I'm going up there with a couple of my best men, any way," said the +superintendent. "There's no time to lose if they're clearing out +tomorrow." + +"I'll come with you," said Cotherstone. He waited, staring at the fire +until the superintendent had been into the adjacent police-station and +had come back to say that he and his men were ready. "What do you mean +to do?" he asked as the four of them set out. "Take them?" + +"Question them first," answered the superintendent. "I shan't let them +get out of my sight, any way, after what you've told me, for I expect +you're right in your conclusions. What is it?" he asked, as one of the +two men who followed behind called him. + +The man pointed down the Market Place to the doors of the +police-station. + +"Two cars just pulled up there, sir," he said. "Came round the corner +just now from the Norcaster road." + +The superintendent glanced back and saw two staring headlights standing +near his own door. + +"Oh, well, there's Smith there," he said. "And if it's anybody wanting +me, he knows where I've gone. Come on--for aught we know these two may +have cleared out already." + +But there were thin cracks of light in the living-room window of the +lonely cottage on the Shawl, and the superintendent whispered that +somebody was certainly there and still up. He halted his companions +outside the garden gate and turned to Cotherstone. + +"I don't know if it'll be advisable for you to be seen," he said. "I +think our best plan'll be for me to knock at the front door and ask for +the woman. You other two go round--quietly--to the back door, and take +care that nobody gets out that way to the moors at the back--if anybody +once escapes to those moors they're as good as lost for ever on a dark +night. Go round--and when you hear me knock at the front, you knock at +the back." + +The two men slipped away round the corner of the garden and through the +adjacent belt of trees, and the superintendent gently lifted the latch +of the garden gate. + +"You keep back, Mr. Cotherstone, when I go to the door," he said. "You +never know--hullo, what's this?" + +Men were coming up the wood behind them, quietly but quickly. One of +them, ahead of the others, carried a bull's-eye lamp and in swinging it +about revealed himself as one of the superintendent's own officers. He +caught sight of his superior and came forward. + +"Mr. Brereton's here, sir, and some gentlemen from Norcaster," he said. +"They want to see you particularly--something about this place, so I +brought them----" + +It was at that moment that the sound of the two revolver shots rang out +in the silence from the stillness of the cottage. And at that the +superintendent dashed forward, with a cry to the others, and began to +beat on the front door, and while his men responded with similar +knockings at the back he called loudly on Miss Pett to open. + +It was Mallalieu who at last flung the door open and confronted the +amazed and wondering group clustered thickly without. Every man there +shrank back affrighted at the desperation on the cornered man's face. +But Mallalieu did not shrink, and his hand was strangely steady as he +singled out his partner and shot him dead--and just as steady as he +stepped back and turned the revolver on himself. + +A moment later the superintendent snatched the bull's-eye lamp from his +man, and stepped over Mallalieu's dead body and went into the +cottage--to come back on the instant shivering and sick with shock at +the sight his startled eyes had met. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE BARRISTER'S FEE + + +Six months later, on a fine evening which came as the fitting close of a +perfect May afternoon, Brereton got out of a London express at Norcaster +and entered the little train which made its way by a branch line to the +very heart of the hills. He had never been back to these northern +regions since the tragedies of which he had been an unwilling witness, +and when the little train came to a point in its winding career amongst +the fell-sides and valleys from whence Highmarket could be seen, with +the tree-crowned Shawl above it, he resolutely turned his face and +looked in the opposite direction. He had no wish to see the town again; +he would have been glad to cut that chapter out of his book of memories. +Nevertheless, being so near to it, he could not avoid the recollections +which came crowding on him because of his knowledge that Highmarket's +old gables and red roofs were there, within a mile or two, had he cared +to look at them in the glint of the westering sun. No--he would never +willingly set foot in that town again!--there was nobody there now that +he had any desire to see. Bent, when the worst was over, and the strange +and sordid story had come to its end, had sold his business, quietly +married Lettie and taken her away for a long residence abroad, before +returning to settle down in London. Brereton had seen them for an hour +or two as they passed through London on their way to Paris and Italy, +and had been more than ever struck by young Mrs. Bent's philosophical +acceptance of facts. Her father, in Lettie's opinion, had always been a +deeply-wronged and much injured man, and it was his fate to have +suffered by his life-long connexion with that very wicked person, +Mallalieu: he had unfortunately paid the penalty at last--and there was +no more to be said about it. It might be well, thought Brereton, that +Bent's wife should be so calm and equable of temperament, for Bent, on +his return to England, meant to go in for politics, and Lettie would +doubtless make an ideal help-meet for a public man. She would face +situations with a cool head and a well-balanced judgment--and so, in +that respect, all was well. All the same, Brereton had a strong notion +that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bent would ever revisit Highmarket. + +As for himself, his thoughts went beyond Highmarket--to the place +amongst the hills which he had never seen. After Harborough's due +acquittal Brereton, having discharged his task, had gone back to London. +But ever since then he had kept up a regular correspondence with Avice, +and he knew all the details of the new life which had opened up for her +and her father with the coming of Mr. Wraythwaite of Wraye. Her letters +were full of vivid descriptions of Wraye itself, and of the steward's +house in which she and Harborough--now appointed steward and agent to +his foster-brother's estate--had taken up their residence. She had a +gift of description, and Brereton had gained a good notion of Wraye from +her letters--an ancient and romantic place, set amongst the wild hills +of the Border, lonely amidst the moors, and commanding wide views of +river and sea. It was evidently the sort of place in which a lover of +open spaces, such as he knew Avice to be, could live an ideal life. But +Brereton had travelled down from London on purpose to ask her to leave +it. + +He had come at last on a sudden impulse, unknown to any one, and +therefore unexpected. Leaving his bag at the little station in the +valley at which he left the train just as the sun was setting behind the +surrounding hills, he walked quickly up a winding road between groves of +fir and pine towards the great grey house which he knew must be the +place into which the man from Australia had so recently come under +romantic circumstances. At the top of a low hill he paused and looked +about him, recognizing the scenes from the descriptions which Avice had +given him in her letters. There was Wraye itself--a big, old-world +place, set amongst trees at the top of a long park-like expanse of +falling ground; hills at the back, the sea in the far distance. The +ruins of an ancient tower stood near the house; still nearer to +Brereton, in an old-fashioned flower garden, formed by cutting out a +plateau on the hillside, stood a smaller house which he knew--also from +previous description--to be the steward's. He looked long at this before +he went nearer to it, hoping to catch the flutter of a gown amongst the +rose-trees already bright with bloom. And at last, passing through the +rose-trees he went to the stone porch and knocked--and was half-afraid +lest Avice herself should open the door to him. Instead, came; a +strapping, redcheeked North-country lass who stared at this evident +traveller from far-off parts before she found her tongue. No--Miss Avice +wasn't in, she was down the garden, at the far end. + +Brereton hastened down the garden; turned a corner; they met +unexpectedly. Equally unexpected, too, was the manner of their meeting. +For these two had been in love with each other from an early stage of +their acquaintance, and it seemed only natural now that when at last +they touched hands, hand should stay in hand. And when two young people +hold each other's hands, especially on a Springtide evening, and under +the most romantic circumstances and surroundings, lips are apt to say +more than tongues--which is as much as to say that without further +preface these two expressed all they had to say in their first kiss. + +Nevertheless, Brereton found his tongue at last. For when he had taken a +long and searching look at the girl and had found in her eyes what he +sought, he turned and looked at wood, hill, sky, and sea. + +"This is all as you described it" he said, with his arm round her, "and +yet the first real thing I have to say to you now that I am here is--to +ask you to leave it!" + +She smiled at that and again put her hand in his. + +"But--we shall come back to it now and then--together!" she said. + +THE END + + + + +ADVERTISEMENTS + + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + +Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + +Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to +ape kingship. + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + +Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, finds +himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with the +Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons. + +THE GODS OF MARS + +Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he does +battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose mighty tails +swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terrible +Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres. + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + +Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, +Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in the +union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah +Thoris. + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + +The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventures +of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian +Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP. PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +FLORENCE L. BARCLAY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER + +A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her +lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments +follow. + +THE UPAS TREE + +A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and his +wife. + +THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE + +The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages +vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of +abiding love. + +THE ROSARY + +The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all else +in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains life's +greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two real people +superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its exceeding reward. + +THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE + +The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a +husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who is +ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each other. When +he learns her real identity a situation of singular power is developed. + +THE BROKEN HALO + +The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in +childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years older +than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted. + +THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR + +The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, marries +wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the conditions of her +uncle's will, and how they finally come to love each other and are +reunited after experiences that soften and purify. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE MAN OF THE FOREST + +THE DESERT OF WHEAT + +THE U. P. TRAIL + +WILDFIRE + +THE BORDER LEGION + +THE RAINBOW TRAIL + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + +THE LONE STAR RANGER + +DESERT GOLD + +BETTY ZANE + + +LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS + +The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, with +Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. + + +ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS + + +KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE + +THE YOUNG LION HUNTER + +THE YOUNG FORESTER + +THE YOUNG PITCHER + +THE SHORT STOP + +THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S + +STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE RIVER'S END + +A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + +Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + +The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + +KAZAN + +The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate. + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + +The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman. + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + +The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battle +with Captain Plum. + +THE DANGER TRAIL + +A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman. + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + +The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + +THE GRIZZLY KING + +The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + +ISOBEL + +A love story of the Far North. + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + +A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + +The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + +Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + +BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + +A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made from +this book. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY + +GENE STRATTON-PORTER. + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +MICHAEL O'HALLORAN. Illustrated by Frances Rogers. + +Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern +Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes +the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and +onward. + +LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. + +This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story +is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it +is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs +of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and +the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood +and about whose family there hangs a mystery. + +THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. + +"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had +nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. +But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance +of the rarest idyllic quality. + +FRECKLES. Illustrated. + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant loveable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors. + +The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The +story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. +The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and +its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + +THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated. + +A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and +humor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + +The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the lamp +of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations to +final happiness. + +GREATHEART + +The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + +A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance." + +THE SWINDLER + +The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith. + +THE TIDAL WAVE + +Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false. + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + +A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Borough Treasurer, by Joseph Smith Fletcher + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOROUGH TREASURER *** + +***** This file should be named 20630.txt or 20630.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/3/20630/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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