his chair, and his voice became clear
and strong.

"Before I answer that question, Mr. Tallington," he said, "I'll ask one
of Mr. Bent here. It's this--is my daughter going to suffer from aught
that may or may not be raked up against her father? Let me know
that!--if you want any words from me."

Bent flushed angrily.

"You ought to know what my answer is!" he exclaimed. "It's no!"

"That'll do!" said Cotherstone. "I know you--you're a man of your word."
He turned to Tallington. "Now I'll reply to you," he went on. "My
answer's in one word, too. Yes!"

Tallington opened Kitely's scrap-book at the account of the trial at
Wilchester, placed it before Cotherstone, and indicated certain lines
with the point of a pencil.

"You're the Chidforth mentioned there?" he asked quietly. "And your
partner's the Mallows?"

"That's so," replied Cotherstone, so imperturbably that all three looked
at him in astonishment "That's quite so, Mr. Tallington."

"And this is an accurate report of what happened?" asked Tallington,
trailing the pencil over the newspaper. "That is, as far as you can see
at a glance?"

"Oh, I daresay it is," said Cotherstone, airily. "That was the best
paper in the town--I daresay it's all right. Looks so, anyway."

"You know that Kitely was present at that trial?" suggested Tallington,
who, like Brereton, was beginning to be mystified by Cotherstone's
coolness.

"Well," answered Cotherstone, with a shake of his head, "I know now. But
I never did know until that afternoon of the day on which the old man
was murdered. If you're wanting the truth, he came into our office that
afternoon to pay his rent to me, and he told me then. And--if you want
more truth--he tried to blackmail me. He was to come next day--at four
o'clock--to hear what me and Mallalieu 'ud offer him for hush-money."

"Then you told Mallalieu?" asked Tallington.

"Of course I told him!" replied Cotherstone. "Told him as soon as Kitely
had gone. It was a facer for both of us--to be recognized, and to have
all that thrown up against us, after thirty years' honest work!"

The three listeners looked silently at each other. A moment of suspence
passed. Then Tallington put the question which all three were burning
with eagerness to have answered.

"Mr. Cotherstone!--do you know who killed Kitely?"

"No!" answered Cotherstone. "But I know who I think killed him!"

"Who, then?" demanded Tallington.

"The man who killed Bert Stoner," s