ness, and in which the bank manager lived. There
was not a soul about in the street, and the ringing of the bell at the
bank-house door, and the loud knock which Mallalieu gave in supplement
to it, seemed to wake innumerable echoes. And proof as he believed
himself to be against such slight things, the sudden opening of a window
above his head made him jump.

The startled bank-manager, hurrying down to his midnight visitor in his
dressing-gown and slippers, stood aghast when he had taken the Mayor
within and learned his errand.

"Certainly!" he said. "Kitely was in the bank today, about noon--I
attended to him myself. That's the second time he's been here since he
came to the town. He called here a day or two after he first took that
house from Mr. Cotherstone--to cash a draft for his quarter's pension.
He told me then who he was. Do you know?"

"Not in the least," replied Mallalieu, telling the lie all the more
readily because he had been fully prepared for the question to which it
was an answer. "I knew naught about him."

"He was an ex-detective," said the bank-manager. "Pensioned off, of
course: a nice pension. He told me he'd had--I believe it was getting on
to forty years' service in the police force. Dear, dear, this is a sad
business--and I'm afraid I can tell you a bit more about it."

"What?" demanded Mallalieu, showing surprise in spite of himself.

"You mentioned Harborough," said the bank-manager, shaking his head.

"Well?" said Mallalieu. "What then?"

"Harborough was at the counter when Kitely took his money," answered the
bank-manager. "He had called in to change a five-pound note."

The two men looked at each other in silence for a time. Then the
bank-manager shook his head again.

"You wouldn't think that a man who has a five-pound note of his own to
change would be likely, to murder another man for what he could get," he
went on. "But Kitely had a nice bit of money to carry away, and he wore
a very valuable gold watch and chain, which he was rather fond of
showing in the town, and----eh?"

"It's a suspicious business," said Mallalieu. "You say Harborough saw
Kitely take his money?"

"Couldn't fail," replied the bank-manager. "He was standing by him. The
old man put it--notes and gold--in a pocket that he had inside his
waistcoat."

Mallalieu lingered, as if in thought, rubbing his chin and staring at
the carpet. "Well, that's a sort of additional clue," he remarked at
last. "It looks v