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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.
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." Instead of replying to the policeman by word or movement, Mallalieu glanced at Cotherstone.
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.
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!
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.
"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?"
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.
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.
"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."
"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."
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