ich seemed
inimical to themselves. They watched the proceedings at the inquest held
on Kitely; they, too, yielded nothing that could attract attention in
the way they dreaded. When several days had gone by and the police
investigations seemed to have settled down into a concentrated purpose
against the suspected man, both Mallalieu and Cotherstone believed
themselves safe from discovery--their joint secret appeared to be well
buried with the old detective. But the secret was keenly and vividly
alive in their own hearts, and when Mallalieu faced the truth he knew
that he suspected Cotherstone, and when Cotherstone put things squarely
to himself he knew that he suspected Mallalieu. And the two men got to
eyeing each other furtively, and to addressing each other curtly, and
when they happened to be alone there was a heavy atmosphere of mutual
dislike and suspicion between them.

It was a strange psychological fact that though these men had been
partners for a period covering the most important part of their lives,
they had next to nothing in common. They were excellent partners in
business matters; Mallalieu knew Cotherstone, and Cotherstone knew
Mallalieu in all things relating to the making of money. But in taste,
temperament, character, understanding, they were as far apart as the
poles. This aloofness when tested further by the recent discomposing
events manifested itself in a disinclination to confidence. Mallalieu,
whatever he thought, knew very well that he would never say what he
thought to Cotherstone; Cotherstone knew precisely the same thing with
regard to Mallalieu. But this silence bred irritation, and as the days
went by the irritation became more than Cotherstone could bear. He was a
highly-strung, nervous man, quick to feel and to appreciate, and the
averted looks and monosyllabic remarks and replies of a man into whose
company he could not avoid being thrown began to sting him to something
like madness. And one day, left alone in the office with Mallalieu when
Stoner the clerk had gone to get his dinner, the irritation became
unbearable, and he turned on his partner in a sudden white heat of
ungovernable and impotent anger.

"Hang you!" he hissed between his set teeth. "I believe you think I did
that job! And if you do, blast you, why don't you say so, and be done
with it?"

Mallalieu, who was standing on the hearth, warming his broad back at the
fire, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets and looked