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Updated: June 22, 2025
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!"
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.
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.
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.
"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?"
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:
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.
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. 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.
"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.
"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!
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