atisfied his clients uncommonly well. But, naturally, nobody ever knew
what was going on between him and Maitland."

"I gather from this report," said Spargo, "that everything came out
suddenly--unexpectedly?"

"That was so, sir," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "Sudden? Unexpected? Aye,
as a crack of thunder on a fine winter's day. Nobody had the ghost of a
notion that anything was wrong. John Maitland was much respected in the
town; much thought of by everybody; well known to everybody. I can
assure you, Mr. Spargo, that it was no pleasant thing to have to sit on
that grand jury as I did--I was its foreman, sir,--and hear a man
sentenced that you'd regarded as a bosom friend. But there it was!"

"How was the thing discovered?" asked Spargo, anxious to get at facts.

"In this way," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "The Market Milcaster Bank is
in reality almost entirely the property of two old families in the
town, the Gutchbys and the Hostables. Owing to the death of his father,
a young Hostable, fresh from college, came into the business. He was a
shrewd, keen young fellow; he got some suspicion, somehow, about
Maitland, and he insisted on the other partners consenting to a special
investigation, and on their making it suddenly. And Maitland was caught
before he had a chance. But we're talking about Chamberlayne."

"Yes, about Chamberlayne," agreed Spargo.

"Well, now, Maitland was arrested one evening," continued Mr.
Quarterpage. "Of course, the news of his arrest ran through the town
like wild-fire. Everybody was astonished; he was at that time--aye, and
had been for years--a churchwarden at the Parish Church, and I don't
think there could have been more surprise if we'd heard that the Vicar
had been arrested for bigamy. In a little town like this, news is all
over the place in a few minutes. Of course, Chamberlayne would hear
that news like everybody else. But it was remembered, and often
remarked upon afterwards, that from the moment of Maitland's arrest
nobody in Market Milcaster ever had speech with Chamberlayne again.
After his wife's death he'd taken to spending an hour or so of an
evening across there at the 'Dragon,' where you saw me and my friends
last night, but on that night he didn't go to the 'Dragon.' And next
morning he caught the eight o'clock train to London. He happened to
remark to the stationmaster as he got into the train that he expected
to be back late that night, and that he should have a tiring day o