the
other or both. That was certain. But there were many things that were
far from certain. What had happened when Kitely revealed himself as a
man who had been a witness of their conviction in those far-off days?
How had he revealed himself? Had he endeavoured to blackmail them? It
was possible.

But there was still more to think over. How had the dead clerk, Stoner,
got his knowledge of this great event in the life of his employers? Had
he got it from Kitely? That was not likely. Yet Stoner had written down
in his pocket-book an entry which was no more and no less than a
_precis_ of the absolute facts. Somehow, somewhere, Stoner had made
himself fully acquainted with Mallalieu and Cotherstone's secret. Did
Stoner's death arise out of a knowledge of that secret? On the face of
things there could be little doubt that it did. Who, then, struck the
blow which killed Stoner, or, if it did not actually kill him, caused
his death by bringing about the fall which broke his neck? Was it
Mallalieu?--or was it Cotherstone?

That one or other, or both, were guilty of Kitely's murder, and possibly
of Stoner's, Brereton was by that time absolutely certain. And
realizing that certainty, he felt himself placed in a predicament which
could not fail to be painful. It was his duty, as counsel for an
innocent man, to press to the full his inquiries into the conduct of men
whom he believed to be guilty. In this he was faced with an unpleasant
situation. He cared nothing about Mallalieu. If Mallalieu was a guilty
man, let Mallalieu pay the richly-deserved consequences of his misdeeds.
Brereton, without being indifferent or vindictive or callous, knew that
it would not give him one extra heart-throb if he heard Mallalieu found
guilty and sentenced to the gallows. But Cotherstone was the father of
the girl to whom Windle Bent was shortly to be married--and Bent and
Brereton had been close friends ever since they first went to school
together.

It was a sad situation, an unpleasant thing to face. He had come on a
visit to Bent, he had prolonged that visit in order to defend a man whom
he firmly believed to be as innocent as a child--and now he was to bring
disgrace and shame on a family with whom his host and friend was soon to
be allied by the closest of ties. But--better that than that an innocent
man should suffer! And walking up and down Bent's smoking-room, and
thinking the whole thing through and through, he half made up his mind
to