t for that idea."

Cotherstone went nearer the cart which they were examining. He was a
good deal of a contrast to his partner--a slightly built, wiry man,
nervous and quick of movement; although he was Mallalieu's junior he
looked older, and the thin hair at his temples was already whitening.
Mallalieu suggested solidity and almost bovine sleekness; in
Cotherstone, activity of speech and gesture was marked well-nigh to an
appearance of habitual anxiety. He stepped about the cart with the quick
action of an inquisitive bird or animal examining something which it has
never seen before.

"Yes, yes, yes!" he answered. "Yes, that's a good idea. But if it's to
be patented, you know, we ought to see to it at once, before these carts
go into use."

"Why, there's nobody in Highmarket like to rob us," observed Mallalieu,
good-humouredly. "You might consider about getting--what do they call
it?--provisional protection?--for it."

"I'll look it up," responded Cotherstone. "It's worth that, anyhow."

"Do," said Mallalieu. He pulled out the big gold watch which hung from
the end of his cable chain and glanced at its jewelled dial. "Dear me!"
he exclaimed. "Four o'clock--I've a meeting in the Mayor's parlour at
ten past. But I'll look in again before going home."

He hurried away towards the entrance gate, and Cotherstone, after
ruminative inspection of the new carts, glanced at some papers in his
hand and went over to a consignment of goods which required checking. He
was carefully ticking them off on a list when a clerk came down the
yard.

"Mr. Kitely called to pay his rent, sir," he announced. "He asked to see
you yourself."

"Twenty-five--six--seven," counted Cotherstone. "Take him into the
private office, Stoner," he answered. "I'll be there in a minute."

He continued his checking until it was finished, entered the figures on
his list, and went briskly back to the counting-house near the gateway.
There he bustled into a room kept sacred to himself and Mallalieu, with
a cheery greeting to his visitor--an elderly man who had recently
rented from him a small house on the outskirts of the town.

"Afternoon, Mr. Kitely," he said. "Glad to see you, sir--always glad to
see anybody with a bit of money, eh? Take a chair, sir--I hope you're
satisfied with the little place, Mr. Kitely?"

The visitor took the offered elbow-chair, folded his hands on the top of
his old-fashioned walking-cane, and glanced at his landlord with a