of the ancient and most dignified office--privately,
as if he were a--a mere nobody, a common townsman, is--oh, really, it's
unheard of!"

"That the notion of the men who sent you here?" asked Brent grimly.

"The notion, as you call it, of the gentlemen who sent me here, Mr.
Brent, is that your cousin's funeral obsequies should be of a public
nature," answered the Town Clerk. "According to precedent, of course.
During my term of office as Town Clerk two Mayors have died during their
year of Mayoralty. On such occasions the Corporation has been present in
state."

"In state?" said Brent. "What's that amount to? Sort of procession?"

"A duly marshalled one," answered the Town Clerk. "The beadle with his
mace; the Deputy-Mayor; the Recorder--the Recorder and Town Clerk, of
course, in wigs and gowns--the Aldermen in their furred robes; the
Councillors in their violet gowns--a very stately procession, Mr. Brent,
preceding the funeral cortege to St. Hathelswide's Church, where the
Vicar, as Mayor's Chaplain, would deliver a funeral oration. The
procession would return subsequently to the Moot Hall, for wine and
cake."

Brent rubbed his square chin, staring hard at his visitor.

"Um!" he said at last. "Well, there isn't going to be anything of that
sort to-morrow. I'm just going to bury my cousin quietly and privately,
without maces and furred robes and violet gowns. So you can just tell
'em politely--nothing doing!"

"But my dear sir, my good Mr. Brent!" expostulated the visitor. "The
Mayor of Hathelsborough! The oldest borough in the country! Why, our
charter of incorporation dates from----"

"I'm not particularly interested in archaeology, just now anyway,"
interrupted Brent. "And it's nothing to me in connection with this
matter if your old charter was signed by William the Conqueror or
Edward the Confessor. I say--nothing doing!"

"But your reasons, my dear sir, your reasons!" exclaimed the Town Clerk.
"Such a breaking with established custom and precedent! I really don't
know what the neighbouring boroughs will say of us!"

"Let 'em say!" retorted Brent. He laughed contemptuously. But suddenly
his mood changed, and he turned on his visitor with what the Town Clerk
afterwards described as a very ugly look. "But if you want to know," he
added, "I'll tell you why I won't have any Corporation processing after
my cousin's dead body! It's because I believe that his murderer's one of
'em! See?"

The Town Clerk, a