The Borough Treasurer Page 20

  CHAPTER XX

  AT BAY

  It was only by an immense effort of will that Brereton prevented anexclamation and a start of surprise. But of late he had been perpetuallyon the look-out for all sorts of unforeseen happenings and he managed todo no more than show a little natural astonishment.

  "What, so soon!" he said. "Dear me, old chap!--I didn't think of itsbeing this side of Christmas."

  "Cotherstone's set on it," answered Bent. "He seems to be turning into aregular hypochondriac. I hope nothing is really seriously wrong withhim. But anyway--this day week. And you'll play your part of best man,of course."

  "Oh, of course!" agreed Brereton. "And then--are you going away?"

  "Yes, but not for as long as we'd meant," said Bent. "We'll run down tothe Riviera for a few weeks--I've made all my arrangements today. Well,any fresh news about this last bad business? This Stoner affair, ofcourse, has upset Cotherstone dreadfully. When is all this mysterycoming to an end, Brereton? There is one thing dead certain--Harboroughisn't guilty in this case. That is, if Stoner really was killed by theblow they talk of."

  But Brereton refused to discuss matters that night. He pleaded fatigue,he had been at it all day long, he said, and his brain was confused andtired and needed rest. And presently he went off to his room--and whenhe got there he let out a groan of dismay. For one thing wasimperative--Bent's marriage must not take place while there was theleast chance of a terrible charge being suddenly let loose onCotherstone.

  He rose in the morning with his mind made up on the matter. There wasbut one course to adopt--and it must be adopted immediately. Cotherstonemust be spoken to--Cotherstone must be told of what some people at anyrate knew about him and his antecedents. Let him have a chance toexplain himself. After all, he might have some explanation. But--andhere Brereton's determination became fixed and stern--it must beinsisted upon that he should tell Bent everything.

  Bent always went out very early in the morning, to give an eye to hisbusiness, and he usually breakfasted at his office. That was one of themornings on which he did not come back to the house, and Breretonaccordingly breakfasted alone, and had not seen his host when he, too,set out for the town. He had already decided what to do--he would telleverything to Tallington. Tallington was a middle-aged man of a greatreputation for common-sense and for probity; as a native of the town,and a dweller in it all his life, he knew Cotherstone well, and he wouldgive sound advice as to what methods should be followed in dealing withhim. And so to Tallington Brereton, arriving just after the solicitorhad finished reading his morning's letters, poured out the whole storywhich he had learned from the ex-detective's scrap-book and from thememorandum made by Stoner in his pocket-book.

  Tallington listened with absorbed attention, his face growing graver andgraver as Brereton marshalled the facts and laid stress on one point ofevidence after another. He was a good listener--a steady, watchfullistener--Brereton saw that he was not only taking in every fact andnoting every point, but was also weighing up the mass of testimony. Andwhen the story came to its end he spoke with decision, spoke, too, justas Brereton expected he would, making no comment, offering no opinion,but going straight to the really critical thing.

  "There are only two things to be done," said Tallington. "They're theonly things that can be done. We must send for Bent, and tell him. Thenwe must get Cotherstone here, and tell him. No other course--none!"

  "Bent first?" asked Brereton.

  "Certainly! Bent first, by all means. It's due to him. Besides," saidTallington, with a grim smile, "it would be decidedly unpleasant forCotherstone to compel him to tell Bent, or for us to tell Bent inCotherstone's presence. And--we'd better get to work at once, Brereton!Otherwise--this will get out in another way."

  "You mean--through the police?" said Brereton.

  "Surely!" replied Tallington. "This can't be kept in a corner. Foranything we know somebody may be at work, raking it all up, just now. Doyou suppose that unfortunate lad Stoner kept his knowledge to himself?I don't! No--at once! Come, Bent's office is only a minute away--I'llsend one of my clerks for him. Painful, very--but necessary."

  The first thing that Bent's eyes encountered when he enteredTallington's private room ten minutes later was the black-bound,brass-clasped scrap-book, which Brereton had carried down with him andhad set on the solicitor's desk. He started at the sight of it, andturned quickly from one man to the other.

  "What's that doing here?" he asked, "is--have you made some discovery?Why am I wanted?"

  Once more Brereton had to go through the story. But his new listener didnot receive it in the calm and phlegmatic fashion in which it had beenreceived by the practised ear of the man of law. Bent was at firstutterly incredulous; then indignant: he interrupted; he asked questionswhich he evidently believed to be difficult to answer; he wasfighting--and both his companions, sympathizing keenly with him, knewwhy. But they never relaxed their attitude, and in the end Bent lookedfrom one to the other with a cast-down countenance in which doubt wasbeginning to change into certainty.

  "You're convinced of--all this?" he demanded suddenly. "Both of you?It's your conviction?"

  "It's mine," answered Tallington quietly.

  "I'd give a good deal for your sake, Bent, if it were not mine," saidBrereton. "But--it is mine. I'm--sure!"

  Bent jumped from his chair.

  "Which of them is it, then?" he exclaimed. "Gad!--you don't mean to saythat Cotherstone is--a murderer! Good heavens!--think of what that wouldmean to--to----"

  Tallington got up and laid a hand on Bent's arm.

  "We won't say or think anything until we hear what Cotherstone has tosay," he said. "I'll step along the street and fetch him, myself. I knowhe'll be alone just now, because I saw Mallalieu go into the Town Hallten minutes ago--there's an important committee meeting there thismorning over which he has to preside. Pull yourself together,Bent--Cotherstone may have some explanation of everything."

  Mallalieu & Cotherstone's office was only a few yards away along thestreet; Tallington was back from it with Cotherstone in five minutes.And Brereton, looking closely at Cotherstone as he entered and saw whoawaited him, was certain that Cotherstone was ready for anything. Asudden gleam of understanding came into his sharp eyes; it was as if hesaid to himself that here was a moment, a situation, a crisis, which hehad anticipated, and--he was prepared. It was an outwardly calm and coolCotherstone, who, with a quick glance at all three men and at the closeddoor, took the chair which Tallington handed to him, and turned on thesolicitor with a single word.

  "Well?"

  "As I told you in coming along," said Tallington, "we want to speak toyou privately about some information which has been placed in ourhands--that is, of course, in Mr. Brereton's and in mine. We havethought it well to already acquaint Mr. Bent with it. All this isbetween ourselves, Mr. Cotherstone--so treat us as candidly as we'lltreat you. I can put everything to you in a few words. They're painful.Are you and your partner, Mr. Mallalieu, the same persons as theChidforth and Mallows who were prosecuted for fraud at WilchesterAssizes in 1881 and sentenced to two years' imprisonment?"

  Cotherstone neither started nor flinched. There was no sign of weaknessnor of hesitation about him now. Instead, he seemed to have suddenlyrecovered all the sharpness and vigour with which two at any rate of thethree men who were so intently watching him had always associated withhim. He sat erect and watchful in his chair, and his voice became clearand strong.

  "Before I answer that question, Mr. Tallington," he said, "I'll ask oneof Mr. Bent here. It's this--is my daughter going to suffer from aughtthat may or may not be raked up against her father? Let me knowthat!--if you want any words from me."

  Bent flushed angrily.

  "You ought to know what my answer is!" he exclaimed. "It's no!"

  "That'll do!" said Cotherstone. "I know you--you're a man of your word."He turned to Tallington. "Now I'll reply to you," he went on. "Myanswer's in one word, too. Yes!"

  Tallington opened Kitel
y's scrap-book at the account of the trial atWilchester, placed it before Cotherstone, and indicated certain lineswith the point of a pencil.

  "You're the Chidforth mentioned there?" he asked quietly. "And yourpartner's the Mallows?"

  "That's so," replied Cotherstone, so imperturbably that all three lookedat him in astonishment. "That's quite so, Mr. Tallington."

  "And this is an accurate report of what happened?" asked Tallington,trailing the pencil over the newspaper. "That is, as far as you can seeat a glance?"

  "Oh, I daresay it is," said Cotherstone, airily. "That was the bestpaper in the town--I daresay it's all right. Looks so, anyway."

  "You know that Kitely was present at that trial?" suggested Tallington,who, like Brereton, was beginning to be mystified by Cotherstone'scoolness.

  "Well," answered Cotherstone, with a shake of his head, "I know now. ButI never did know until that afternoon of the day on which the old manwas murdered. If you're wanting the truth, he came into our office thatafternoon to pay his rent to me, and he told me then. And--if you wantmore truth--he tried to blackmail me. He was to come next day--at fouro'clock--to hear what me and Mallalieu 'ud offer him for hush-money."

  "Then you told Mallalieu?" asked Tallington.

  "Of course I told him!" replied Cotherstone. "Told him as soon as Kitelyhad gone. It was a facer for both of us--to be recognized, and to haveall that thrown up against us, after thirty years' honest work!"

  The three listeners looked silently at each other. A moment of suspencepassed. Then Tallington put the question which all three were burningwith eagerness to have answered.

  "Mr. Cotherstone!--do you know who killed Kitely?"

  "No!" answered Cotherstone. "But I know who I think killed him!"

  "Who, then?" demanded Tallington.

  "The man who killed Bert Stoner," said Cotherstone firmly. "And for thesame reason."

  "And this man is----"

  Tallington left the question unfinished. For Cotherstone's alert facetook a new and determined expression, and he raised himself a little inhis chair and brought his lifted hand down heavily on the desk at hisside.

  "Mallalieu!" he exclaimed. "Mallalieu! I believe he killed Kitely. Isuspicioned it from the first, and I came certain of it on Sunday night.Why? _Because I saw Mallalieu fell Stoner!_"

  There was a dead silence in the room for a long, painful minute.Tallington broke it at last by repeating Cotherstone's last words.

  "You saw Mallalieu fell Stoner? Yourself?"

  "With these eyes! Look here!" exclaimed Cotherstone, again bringing hishand down heavily on the desk. "I went up there by Hobwick Quarry onSunday afternoon--to do a bit of thinking. As I got to that spinney atthe edge of the quarry, I saw Mallalieu and our clerk. They werefratching--quarrelling--I could hear 'em as well as see 'em. And Islipped behind a big bush and waited and watched. I could see and hear,even at thirty yards off, that Stoner was maddening Mallalieu, though ofcourse I couldn't distinguish precise words. And all of a suddenMallalieu's temper went, and he lets out with that heavy oak stick ofhis and fetches the lad a crack right over his forehead--and with Stonerstarting suddenly back the old railings gave way and--down he went.That's what I saw--and I saw Mallalieu kick that stick into the quarryin a passion, and--I've got it!"

  "You've got it?" said Tallington.

  "I've got it!" repeated Cotherstone. "I watched Mallalieu--after thiswas over. Once I thought he saw me--but he evidently decided he wasalone. I could see he was taking on rarely. He went down to the quarryas it got dusk--he was there some time. Then at last he went away on theopposite side. And I went down when he'd got clear away and I wentstraight to where the stick was. And as I say, I've got it."

  Tallington looked at Brereton, and Brereton spoke for the first time.

  "Mr. Cotherstone must see that all this should be told to the police,"he said.

  "Wait a bit," replied Cotherstone. "I've not done telling my tales hereyet. Now that I am talking, I will talk! Bent!" he continued, turning tohis future son-in-law. "What I'm going to say now is for your benefit.But these lawyers shall hear. This old Wilchester business has beenraked up--how, I don't know. Now then, you shall all know the truthabout that! I did two years--for what? For being Mallalieu's catspaw!"

  Tallington suddenly began to drum his fingers on the blotting-pad whichlay in front of him. From this point he watched Cotherstone with anappearance of speculative interest which was not lost on Brereton.

  "Ah!" he remarked quietly. "You were Mallalieu's--or Mallows'--catspaw?That is--he was the really guilty party in the Wilchester affair, ofWhich that's an account?"

  "Doesn't it say here that he was treasurer?" retorted Cotherstone,laying his hand on the open scrap-book. "He was--he'd full control ofthe money. He drew me into things--drew me into 'em in such a clever waythat when the smash came I couldn't help myself. I had to go throughwith it. And I never knew until--until the two years was over--thatMallalieu had that money safely put away."

  "But--you got to know, eventually," remarked Tallington. "And--Isuppose--you agreed to make use of it?"

  Cotherstone smote the table again.

  "Yes!" he said with some heat. "And don't you get any false ideas, Mr.Tallington. Bent!--I've paid that money back--I, myself. Each penny ofit--two thousand pound, with four per cent. interest for thirty years!I've done it--Mallalieu knows naught about it. And here's the receipt.So now then!"

  "When did you pay it, Mr. Cotherstone?" asked Tallington, as Bentunwillingly took the paper which Cotherstone drew from a pocket-book andhanded to him. "Some time ago, or lately?"

  "If you want to know," retorted Cotherstone, "it was the very day afterold Kitely was killed. I sent it through a friend of mine who stilllives in Wilchester. I wanted to be done with it--I didn't want to haveit brought up against me that anybody lost aught through my fault. Andso--I paid."

  "But--I'm only suggesting--you could have paid a long time before that,couldn't you?" said Tallington. "The longer you waited, the more you hadto pay. Two thousand pounds, with thirty years' interest, at four percent.--why, that's four thousand four hundred pounds altogether!"

  "That's what he paid," said Bent. "Here's the receipt."

  "Mr. Cotherstone is telling us--privately--everything," remarkedTallington, glancing at the receipt and passing it on to Brereton. "Iwish he'd tell us--privately, as I say--why he paid that money the dayafter Kitely's murder. Why, Mr. Cotherstone?"

  Cotherstone, ready enough to answer and to speak until then, flushedangrily and shook his head. But he was about to speak when a gentletap came at Tallington's door, and before the solicitor could makeany response, the door was opened from without, and thepolice-superintendent walked in, accompanied by two men whom Breretonrecognized as detectives from Norcaster.

  "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Tallington," said the superintendent, "but Iheard Mr. Cotherstone was here. Mr. Cotherstone!--I shall have to askyou to step across with me to the office. Will you come over now?--it'llbe best."

  "Not until I know what I'm wanted for," answered Cotherstonedeterminedly. "What is it?"

  The superintendent sighed and shook his head.

  "Very well--it's not my fault, then," he answered. "The fact is we wantboth you and Mr. Mallalieu for this Stoner affair. That's the plaintruth! The warrants were issued an hour ago--and we've got Mr. Mallalieualready. Come on, Mr. Cotherstone!--there's no help for it."