you shall all know the truth
about that! I did two years--for what? For being Mallalieu's catspaw!"

Tallington suddenly began to drum his fingers on the blotting-pad which
lay in front of him. From this point he watched Cotherstone with an
appearance of speculative interest which was not lost on Brereton.

"Ah!" he remarked quietly. "You were Mallalieu's--or Mallows'--catspaw?
That is--he was the really guilty party in the Wilchester affair, of
Which that's an account?"

"Doesn't it say here that he was treasurer?" retorted Cotherstone,
laying his hand on the open scrap-book. "He was--he'd full control of
the money. He drew me into things--drew me into 'em in such a clever way
that when the smash came I couldn't help myself. I had to go through
with it. And I never knew until--until the two years was over--that
Mallalieu had that money safely put away."

"But--you got to know, eventually," remarked Tallington. "And--I
suppose--you agreed to make use of it?"

Cotherstone smote the table again.

"Yes!" he said with some heat. "And don't you get any false ideas, Mr.
Tallington. Bent!--I've paid that money back--I, myself. Each penny of
it--two thousand pound, with four per cent. interest for thirty years!
I've done it--Mallalieu knows naught about it. And here's the receipt.
So now then!"

"When did you pay it, Mr. Cotherstone?" asked Tallington, as Bent
unwillingly took the paper which Cotherstone drew from a pocket-book and
handed to him. "Some time ago, or lately?"

"If you want to know," retorted Cotherstone, "it was the very day after
old Kitely was killed. I sent it through a friend of mine who still
lives in Wilchester. I wanted to be done with it--I didn't want to have
it brought up against me that anybody lost aught through my fault. And
so--I paid."

"But--I'm only suggesting--you could have paid a long time before that,
couldn't you?" said Tallington. "The longer you waited, the more you had
to pay. Two thousand pounds, with thirty years' interest, at four per
cent.--why, that's four thousand four hundred pounds altogether!"

"That's what he paid," said Bent. "Here's the receipt.

"Mr. Cotherstone is telling us--privately--everything," remarked
Tallington, glancing at the receipt and passing it on to Brereton. "I
wish he'd tell us--privately, as I say--why he paid that money the day
after Kitely's murder. Why, Mr. Cotherstone?"

Cotherstone, ready enough to answer and to speak until then, flushed