being determined, Mallalieu made his final preparations. They
were all connected with money. If he felt a pang at the thought of
leaving his Highmarket property behind him, it was assuaged by the
reflection that, after all, that property only represented the price of
his personal safety--perhaps (though he did not like to think of that)
of his life. Besides, events might turn out so luckily that the
enjoyment of it might be restored to him--it was possible. Whether that
possibility ever came off or not, he literally dared not regard it just
then. To put himself in safety was the one, the vital consideration. And
his Highmarket property and his share in the business only represented a
part of Mallalieu's wealth. He could afford to do without all that he
left behind him; it was a lot to leave, he sighed regretfully, but he
would still be a very wealthy man if he never touched a pennyworth of it
again.

From the moment in which Mallalieu had discovered that Kitely knew the
secret of the Wilchester affair he had prepared for eventualities, and
Kitely's death had made no difference to his plans. If one man could
find all that out, he argued, half a dozen other men might find it out.
The murder of the ex-detective, indeed, had strengthened his resolve to
be prepared. He foresaw that suspicion might fall on Cotherstone; deeper
reflection showed him that if Cotherstone became an object of suspicion
he himself would not escape. And so he had prepared himself. He had got
together his valuable securities; they were all neatly bestowed in a
stout envelope which fitted into the inner pocket of a waistcoat which
he once had specially made to his own design: a cleverly arranged
garment, in which a man could carry a lot of wealth--in paper. There in
that pocket it all was--Government stock, railway stock, scrip, shares,
all easily convertible, anywhere in the world where men bought and sold
the best of gilt-edged securities. And in another pocket Mallalieu had a
wad of bank-notes which he had secured during the previous week from a
London bank at which he kept an account, and in yet another, a cunningly
arranged one, lined out with wash-leather, and secured by a strong flap,
belted and buckled, he carried gold.

Mallalieu kept that waistcoat and its precious contents under his pillow
that night. And next morning he attired himself with particular care,
and in the hip pocket of his trousers he placed a revolver which he had
recently pu