he
very surest proof that this man Harborough had nothing to do with the
murder."

"Why?" asked Bent.

"Why? My dear fellow!" exclaimed Brereton. "Do you really think that any
man who was in possession of his senses would do such a thing? Take a
piece of cord from a coil--leave the coil where anybody could find
it--strangle a man with the severed piece and leave it round the
victim's neck? Absurd! No--a thousand times no!"

"Well--and what then?" asked Bent.

"Ah! Somebody cut that piece off--for the use it was put to," answered
Brereton. "But--who?"

Bent made no reply for a while. Then, as they reached the outskirts of
the town, he clapped a hand on his companion's arm.

"You're forgetting something--in spite of your legal mind," he said.
"The murderer may have been interrupted before he could remove it. And
in that case----"

He stopped suddenly as a gate opened in the wall of a garden which they
were just passing, and a tall man emerged. In the light of the adjacent
lamp Bent recognized Mallalieu. Mallalieu, too, recognized him, and
stopped.

"Oh, that you, Mr. Mayor!" exclaimed Bent. "I was just wondering whether
to drop in on you as I passed. Have you heard what's happened tonight?"

"Heard naught," replied Mallalieu. "I've just been having a hand at
whist with Councillor Northrop and his wife and daughter. What has
happened, then?"

They were all three walking towards the town by that time, and Bent
slipped between Brereton and Mallalieu and took the Mayor's arm.

"Murder's happened," he said. "That's the plain truth of it. You know
old Kitely--your partner's tenant? Well, somebody's killed him."

The effect of this announcement on Mallalieu was extraordinary. Bent
felt the arm into which he had just slipped his own literally quiver
with a spasmodic response to the astonished brain; the pipe which
Mallalieu was smoking fell from his lips; out of his lips came something
very like a cry of dismay.

"God bless me!" he exclaimed. "You don't say so?"

"It's a fact," said Bent. He stopped and picked up the fallen pipe.
"Sorry I let it out so clumsily--I didn't think it would affect you like
that. But there it is--Kitely's been murdered. Strangled!"

"Strangled!" echoed Mallalieu. "Dear--dear--dear! When was this, now?"

"Within the hour," replied Bent. "Mr. Brereton here--a friend of mine
from London--and I were spending the evening at your partner's, when
that neighbour of his, Garthwaite, came ru