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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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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?
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.
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