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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."
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.
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?
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
"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.
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