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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."
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.
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.
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!"
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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?"
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?"
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