d one swift glance and no
more--Cotherstone immediately moved off to the far corner on the left
hand, Mallalieu remained in the opposite one, and placing his hands in
the pockets of his overcoat, he squared his shoulders and straitened his
big frame and took a calm and apparently contemptuous look round about
him.

Brereton, sitting at a corner of the solicitor's table, and having
nothing to do but play the part of spectator, watched these two men
carefully and with absorbed interest from first to last. He was soon
aware of the vastly different feelings with which they themselves
watched the proceedings. Cotherstone was eager and restless; he could
not keep still; he moved his position; he glanced about him; he looked
as if he were on the verge of bursting into indignant or explanatory
speech every now and then--though, as a matter of fact, he restrained
whatever instinct he had in that direction. But Mallalieu never moved,
never changed his attitude. His expression of disdainful, contemptuous
watchfulness never left him--after the first moments and the formalities
were over, he kept his eyes on the witness-box and on the people who
entered it. Brereton, since his first meeting with Mallalieu, had often
said to himself that the Mayor of Highmarket had the slyest eyes of any
man he had even seen--but he was forced to admit now that, however sly
Mallalieu's eyes were, they could, on occasion, be extraordinarily
steady.

The truth was that Mallalieu was playing a part. He had outlined it,
unconsciously, when he said to the superintendent that it would be time
enough for him to do something when he knew what could be brought
against him. And now all his attention was given to the two or three
witnesses whom the prosecution thought it necessary to call. He wanted
to know who they were. He curbed his impatience while the formal
evidence of arrest was given, but his ears pricked a little when he
heard one of the police witnesses speak of the warrant having been
issued on information received. "What information? Received from whom?
He half-turned as a sharp official voice called the name of the first
important witness.

"David Myler!"

Mallalieu stared at David Myler as if he would tear whatever secret he
had out of him with a searching glance. Who was David Myler? No
Highmarket man--that was certain. Who was he, then?--what did he
know?--was he some detective who had been privately working up this
case? A cool, quiet, de