t afternoon. "I should think your ears must have burned this
dinner-time."

"Why, now?" inquired Brent.

"Uncle Simon brought Mallet and Coppinger home to dinner," continued
Queenie. "It was lucky there was a big hot joint!--they're all great
eaters and drinkers. And they abused you to their hearts' content. This
Town Council business--they say it's infernal impudence for you to put
up for election. However, Coppinger says you'll not get in."

"Coppinger is a bad prophet," said Brent. "I'll be Town Councillor in a
fortnight. Lay anybody ten to one!"

"Well, they'll do everything they can to keep you out," declared
Queenie. "You've got to fight an awful lot of opposition."

"Let 'em all come!" retorted Brent. "I'll represent the Castle Ward, and
now that I'm a burgess of Hathelsborough I'll be Mayor some old time."

"Not yet, though," said Queenie. "They're going to elect a new Mayor
to-morrow. In place of your cousin of course."

Brent started. Nobody had mentioned that to him. Yet he might have
thought of it himself--of course there must be a new Mayor of
Hathelsborough.

"Gad! I hope it'll not be one of the old gang!" he muttered. "If it
is----"

But by noon next day he heard that the old gang had triumphed. Mr.
Alderman Crood was elected Mayor of Hathelsborough by a majority of two
votes. A couple of the wobblers on the Council had given way at the last
moment and thrown in their lot with the reactionary, let-things-alone
party.

"Never mind! I'll win my election," said Brent. "The future is with me."

He set to work, in strenuous fashion, to enlist the favours of the
Castle Ward electorate. All day, from early morning until late at night,
he was cultivating the acquaintance of the burgesses. He had little time
for any other business than this--there were but ten days before the
election. But now and then he visited the police station and interviewed
Hawthwaite; and at each visit he found the superintendent becoming
increasingly reserved and mysterious in manner. Hawthwaite would say
nothing definite, but he dropped queer hints about certain things that
he had up his sleeve, to be duly produced at the adjourned inquest. As
to what they were, he remained resolutely silent, even to Brent.

CHAPTER X

THE CAT IN THE BAG

But as the day of the adjourned inquest drew near Brent became aware
that there were rumours in the air--rumours of some sensational
development, the particulars of which were