. He held his head very high as he went out by the crowded
doorway, and through the crowd which had gathered on the stairs; he
might have been some general returning to be publicly feted as he
emerged upon the broad steps under the Town Hall portico and threw a
triumphant glance at the folk who had gathered there to hear the latest
news. And there, in the open air, and with all those staring eyes upon
him, he unconsciously indulged in a characteristic action. He had caused
his best clothes to be sent to him at Norcaster Gaol the previous night,
and he had appeared in them in the dock. The uppermost garment was an
expensive overcoat, finished off with a deep fur collar: now, as he
stood there on the top step, facing the crowd, he unbuttoned the coat,
threw its lapels aside, and took a long, deep breath, as if he were
inhaling the free air of liberty. There were one or two shrewd and
observant folk amongst the onlookers--it seemed to them that this
unconscious action typified that Cotherstone felt himself throwing off
the shackles which he had worn, metaphorically speaking, for the last
eight days.

But in all that crowd, no one went near Cotherstone. There were many of
his fellow-members of the Corporation in it--councillors, aldermen--but
none of them approached him or even nodded to him; all they did was to
stare. The news of what had happened had quickly leaked out: it was
known before he came into view that Cotherstone had been discharged--his
appearance in that bold, self-assured fashion only led to covert
whispers and furtive looks. But suddenly, from somewhere in the crowd, a
sneering voice flung a contemptuous taunt across the staring faces.

"Well done, Cotherstone!--saved your own neck, anyway!"

There was a ripple of jeering laughter at that, and as Cotherstone
turned angrily in the direction from whence the voice came, another,
equally contemptuous, lifted itself from another corner of the crowd.

"King's evidence! Yah!--who'd believe Cotherstone? Liar!"

Cotherstone's face flushed angrily--the flush died as quickly away and
gave place to a sickly pallor. And at that a man who had stood near him
beneath the portico, watching him inquisitively, stepped nearer and
whispered--

"Go home, Mr. Cotherstone!--take my advice, and get quietly away, at
once!"

Cotherstone rejected this offer of good counsel with a sudden spasm of
furious anger.

"You be hanged!" he snarled. "Who's asking you for your tongue? D