The Borough Treasurer Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  NIGHT WORK

  From the little colony of new houses at the foot of the Shawl to thepolice station at the end of the High Street was only a few minutes'walk. Mallalieu was a quick walker, and he covered this distance at histop speed. But during those few minutes he came to a conclusion, for hewas as quick of thought as in the use of his feet.

  Of course, Cotherstone had killed Kitely. That was certain. He had begunto suspect that as soon as he heard of the murder; he became convincedof it as soon as young Bent mentioned that Cotherstone had left hisguests for an hour after supper. Without a doubt Cotherstone had losthis head and done this foolish thing! And now Cotherstone must beprotected, safe-guarded; heaven and earth must be moved lest suspicionshould fall on him. For nothing could be done to Cotherstone withouteffect upon himself--and of himself--and of himself Mallalieu meant totake very good care. Never mind what innocent person suffered,Cotherstone must go free.

  And the first thing to do was to assume direction of the police, to pullstrings, to engineer matters. No matter how much he believed inHarborough's innocence, Harborough was the man to go for--at present.Attention must be concentrated on him, and on him only.Anything--anything, at whatever cost of morals and honesty to divertsuspicion from that fool of a Cotherstone!--if it were not already toolate. It was the desire to make sure that it was not too late, thedesire to be beforehand, that made Mallalieu hasten to the police. Heknew his own power, he had a supreme confidence in his ability to managethings, and he was determined to give up the night to the scheme alreadyseething in his fertile brain rather than that justice should enter uponwhat he would consider a wrong course.

  While he sat silently and intently listening to Bent's story of thecrime, Mallalieu, who could think and listen and give full attention toboth mental processes without letting either suffer at the expense ofthe other, had reconstructed the murder. He knew Cotherstone--nobodyknew him half as well. Cotherstone was what Mallalieu called deep--hewas ingenious, resourceful, inventive. Cotherstone, in the early hoursof the evening, had doubtless thought the whole thing out. He would bewell acquainted with his prospective victim's habits. He would knowexactly when and where to waylay Kitely. The filching of the piece ofcord from the wall of Harborough's shed was a clever thing--infernallyclever, thought Mallalieu, who had a designing man's whole-heartedadmiration for any sort of cleverness in his own particular line. Itwould be an easy thing to do--and what a splendidly important thing! Ofcourse Cotherstone knew all about Harborough's arrangements--he wouldoften pass the pig-killer's house--from the hedge of the garden he wouldhave seen the coils of greased rope hanging from their nails under theverandah roof, aye, a thousand times. Nothing easier than to slip intoHarborough's garden from the adjacent wood, cut off a length of thecord, use it--and leave it as a first bit of evidence against a manwhose public record was uncertain. Oh, very clever indeed!--if onlyCotherstone could carry things off, and not allow his conscience towrite marks on his face. And he must help--and innocent as he feltHarborough to be, he must set things going against Harborough--his lifewas as naught, against the Mallalieu-Cotherstone safety.

  Mallalieu walked into the police-station, to find the sergeant justreturned and in consultation with the superintendent, whom he hadsummoned to hear his report. Both turned inquiringly on the Mayor.

  "I've heard all about it," said Mallalieu, bustling forward. "Mr. Benttold me. Now then, where's that cord they talk about?"

  The sergeant pointed to the coil and the severed piece, which lay on alarge sheet of brown paper on a side-table, preparatory to being sealedup. Mallalieu crossed over and made a short examination of theseexhibits; then he turned to the superintendent with an air of decision.

  "Aught been done?" he demanded.

  "Not yet, Mr. Mayor," answered the superintendent. "We were justconsulting as to what's best to be done."

  "I should think that's obvious," replied Mallalieu. "You must get towork! Two things you want to do just now. Ring up Norcaster for onething, and High Gill Junction for another. Give 'em a description ofHarborough--he'll probably have made for one place or another, to getaway by train. And ask 'em at Norcaster to lend you a few plain-clothesmen, and to send 'em along here at once by motor--there's no train tillmorning. Then, get all your own men out--now!--and keep folk off thepaths in that wood, and put a watch on Harborough's house, in case heshould put a bold face on it and come back--he's impudence enough--andof course, if he comes, they'll take him. Get to all that now--at once!"

  "You think it's Harborough, then?" said the superintendent.

  "I think there's what the law folks call a prymer facy case againsthim," replied Mallalieu. "It's your duty to get him, anyway, and if hecan clear himself, why, let him. Get busy with that telephone, and beparticular about help from Norcaster--we're under-staffed here as itis."

  The superintendent hurried out of his office and Mallalieu turned to thesergeant.

  "I understood from Mr. Bent," he said, "that that housekeeper ofKitely's said the old fellow had been to the bank at noon today, to drawsome money? That so?"

  "So she said, your Worship," answered the sergeant. "Some allowance, orsomething of that sort, that he drew once a quarter. She didn't know howmuch."

  "But she thought he'd have it on him when he was attacked?" askedMallalieu.

  "She said he was a man for carrying his money on him always," repliedthe sergeant. "We understood from her it was his habit. She says healways had a good bit on him--as a rule. And of course, if he'd drawnmore today, why, he might have a fair lot."

  "We'll soon find that out," remarked Mallalieu. "I'll step round to thebank manager and rouse him. Now you get your men together--this is notime for sleeping. You ought to have men up at the Shawl now."

  "I've left one man at Kitely's cottage, sir, and another aboutHarborough's--in case Harborough should come back during the night,"said the sergeant. "We've two more constables close by the station. I'llget them up."

  "Do it just now," commanded Mallalieu. "I'll be back in a while."

  He hurried out again and went rapidly down the High Street to theold-fashioned building near the Town Hall in which the one bank of thelittle town did its business, and in which the bank manager lived. Therewas not a soul about in the street, and the ringing of the bell at thebank-house door, and the loud knock which Mallalieu gave in supplementto it, seemed to wake innumerable echoes. And proof as he believedhimself to be against such slight things, the sudden opening of a windowabove his head made him jump.

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

  "Certainly!" he said. "Kitely was in the bank today, about noon--Iattended to him myself. That's the second time he's been here since hecame to the town. He called here a day or two after he first took thathouse 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 morereadily because he had been fully prepared for the question to which itwas an answer. "I knew naught about him."

  "He was an ex-detective," said the bank-manager. "Pensioned off, ofcourse: a nice pension. He told me he'd had--I believe it was getting onto forty years' service in the police force. Dear, dear, this is a sadbusiness--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 thebank-manager. "He had called in to change a five-pound note."

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

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

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

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

  Mallalieu lingered, as if in thought, rubbing his chin and staring atthe carpet. "Well, that's a sort of additional clue," he remarked atlast. "It looks very black against Harborough."

  "We've the numbers of the notes that I handed to Kitely," observed thebank-manager. "They may be useful if there's any attempt to change anynote, you know."

  Mallalieu shook his head.

  "Aye, just so," he answered. "But I should say there won't be--just yet.It's a queer business, isn't it--but, as I say, there's evidence againstthis fellow, and we must try to get him."

  He went out then and crossed the street to the doctor's house--while hewas about it, he wanted to know all he could. And with the doctor hestopped much longer than he had stopped at the bank, and when he lefthim he was puzzled. For the doctor said to him what he had said toCotherstone and to Bent and to the rest of the group in the wood--thatwhoever had strangled Kitely had had experience in that sort of grimwork before--or else he was a sailorman who had expert knowledge oftying knots. Now Mallalieu was by that time more certain than ever thatCotherstone was the murderer, and he felt sure that Cotherstone had noexperience of that sort of thing.

  "Done with a single twist and a turn!" he muttered to himself as hewalked back to the police-station. "Aye--aye!--that seems to showknowledge. But it's not my business to follow that up just now--I knowwhat my business is--nobody better."

  The superintendent and the sergeant were giving orders to twosleepy-eyed policemen when Mallalieu rejoined them. He waited until thepolicemen had gone away to patrol the Shawl and then took thesuperintendent aside.

  "I've heard a bit more incriminatory news against Harborough," he said."He was in the bank this morning--or yesterday morning, as it nowis--when Kitely drew his money. There may be naught in that--and theremay be a lot. Anyway, he knew the old man had a goodish bit on him."

  The superintendent nodded, but his manner was doubtful.

  "Well, of course, that's evidence--considering things," he said, "butyou know as well as I do, Mr. Mayor, that Harborough's not a man that'sever been in want of money. It's the belief of a good many folks in thetown that he has money of his own: he's always been a bit of a mysteryever since I can remember. He could afford to give that daughter of hisa good education--good as a young lady gets--and he spends plenty, and Inever heard of him owing aught. Of course, he's a queer lot--we knowhe's a poacher and all that, but he's so skilful about it that we'venever been able to catch him. I can't think he's the guilty party--andyet----"

  "You can't get away from the facts," said Mallalieu. "He'll have to besought for. If he's made himself scarce--if he doesn't come home----"

  "Ah, that 'ud certainly be against him!" agreed the superintendent."Well, I'm doing all I can. We've got our own men out, and there's threeofficers coming over from Norcaster by motor--they're on the way now."

  "Send for me if aught turns up," said Mallalieu.

  He walked slowly home, his brain still busy with possibilities andeventualities. And within five minutes of his waking at his usual hourof six it was again busy--and curious. For he and Cotherstone, both keenbusiness men who believed in constant supervision of their workmen, wereaccustomed to meet at the yard at half-past six every morning, summer orwinter, and he was wondering what his partner would say and do--and looklike.

  Cotherstone was in the yard when Mallalieu reached it. He was givingsome orders to a carter, and he finished what he was doing before comingup to Mallalieu. In the half light of the morning he looked pretty muchas usual--but Mallalieu noticed a certain worn look under his eyes andsuppressed nervousness in his voice. He himself remained silent andobservant, and he let Cotherstone speak first.

  "Well?" said Cotherstone, coming close to him as they stood in a vacantspace outside the office. "Well?"

  "Well?" responded Mallalieu.

  Cotherstone began to fidget with some account books and papers that hehad brought from his house. He eyed his partner with furtive glances;Mallalieu eyed him with steady and watchful ones.

  "I suppose you've heard all about it?" said Cotherstone, after anawkward silence.

  "Aye!" replied Mallalieu, drily. "Aye, I've heard."

  Cotherstone looked round. There was no one near him, but he dropped hisvoice to a whisper.

  "So long as nobody but him knew," he muttered, giving Mallalieu anotherside glance, "so long as he hadn't said aught to anybody--and I don'tthink he had--we're--safe."

  Mallalieu was still staring quietly at Cotherstone. And Cotherstonebegan to grow restless under that steady, questioning look.

  "Oh?" observed Mallalieu, at last. "Aye? You think so? Ah!"

  "Good God--don't you!" exclaimed Cotherstone, roused to a sudden anger."Why----"

  But just then a policeman came out of the High Street into the yard,caught sight of the two partners, and came over to them, touching hishelmet.

  "Can your Worship step across the way?" he asked. "They've broughtHarborough down, and the Super wants a word with you."