CHAPTER XVIII
THE SCRAP BOOK
Brereton went back to his friend's house more puzzled than ever by thesimilarity of the entries in Kitely's memoranda and in Stoner'spocket-book. Bent had gone over to Norcaster that afternoon, onbusiness, and was not to be home until late in the evening: Breretonaccordingly dined alone and had ample time to reflect and to think. Thereflecting and the thinking largely took the form of speculating--on thefact that certain terms and figures which had been set down by Kitelyhad also been set down by Stoner. There were the initials--M. & C. Therewas a date--if it was a date--81. What in Kitely's memorandum theinitials S. B. might mean, it was useless to guess at. His memorandum,indeed, was as cryptic as an Egyptian hieroglyph. But Stoner'smemorandum was fuller, more explicit. The M. & C. of the Kitely entryhad been expanded to Mallows and Chidforth. The entry "fraud" and theother entries "Wilchester Assizes" and the supplementary words, clearlyimplied that two men named Mallows and Chidforth were prosecuted atWilchester Assizes in the year 1881 for fraud, that a sum of L2,000 wasinvolved, which was never recovered, that Mallows and Chidforth,whoever they were, were convicted and were sentenced to two years'imprisonment. So much for Stoner's memorandum. But did it refer to thesame event to which Kitely made reference in his memorandum? It seemedhighly probable that it did. It seemed highly probable, too, that the M.& C. of Kitely's entry were the Mallows & Chidforth of Stoner's. And nowthe problem narrowed to one most serious and crucial point--were theMallows and Chidforth of these references the Mallalieu and Cotherstoneof Highmarket.
Speculating on this possibility, Brereton after his solitary dinner wentinto Bent's smoking-room, and throwing himself into a chair before thefire, lighted his pipe and proceeded to think things out. It wasabundantly clear to him by that time that Kitely and Stoner had been inpossession of a secret: it seemed certain that both had been murdered bysome person who desired to silence them. There was no possible doubt asto Kitely's murder: from what Brereton had heard that afternoon thereseemed to be just as little doubt that Stoner had also been murdered. Hehad heard what the local medical men had to say--one and all agreed thatthough the clerk had received injuries in his fall which would producealmost instantaneous death he had received a mortal blow before he fell.Who struck that blow? Everything seemed to point to the fact that theman who struck it was the man who strangled Kitely--a man of greatmuscular power.
Glancing around the room as he sat in a big easy chair, his hands behindhis head, Brereton's eyes fell suddenly on Kitely's legacy to WindleBent. The queer-looking old volume which, because of its black calfbinding and brass clasp, might easily have been taken for a prayer-book,lay just where Bent had set it down on his desk when Christopher Pettformally handed it over--so far as Brereton knew Bent up to now hadnever even opened it. And it was with no particular motive that Breretonnow reached out and picked it up, and unsnapping the clasp began idly toturn over the leaves on which the old detective had pasted cuttings fromnewspapers and made entries in his crabbed handwriting. Breretonbelieved that he was idly handling what Pett had jocosely described thebook to be--a mere scrap-book. It never entered his head that he held inhis hands almost the whole solution of the mystery which was puzzlinghim.
No man knows how inspiration comes to him, and Brereton never knew howit was that suddenly, in the flash of an eye, in the swiftness ofthought, he knew that he had found what he wanted. Suggestion might havehad something to do with it. Kitely had written the word _Scrap-book_ onthe first blank page. Afterwards, at the tops of pages, he had filled indates in big figures--for reference--1875--1879--1887--and so on. AndBrereton suddenly saw, and understood, and realized. The cryptic entryin Kitely's pocket-book became plain as the plainest print. _M. & C. v.S. B. cir. 81_:--Brereton could amplify that now. Kitely, like all menwho dabble in antiquarian pursuits, knew a bit of Latin, and naturallymade an occasional airing of his knowledge. The full entry, of course,meant M. &. C. _vide_ (=see) Scrap-Book _circa_ (=about) 1881.
With a sharp exclamation of delight, Brereton turned over the pages ofthat queer record of crime and detection until he came to one over whichthe figure 1881 stood out boldly. A turn or two more of pages, and hehad found what he wanted. There it was--a long cutting from what wasevidently a local newspaper--a cutting which extended over two or threeleaves of the book--and at the end a memorandum in Kitely's handwriting,evidently made some years before. The editor of that local newspaper hadconsidered the case which Kitely had so carefully scissored from hiscolumns worthy of four headlines in big capitals:--
THE BUILDING SOCIETY DEFALCATIONS MALLOWS AND CHIDFORTH AT THE WILCHESTER ASSIZES VERDICT AND SENTENCE
Brereton settled down to a careful reading of the report. There wasreally nothing very remarkable about it--nothing exciting norsensational. It was indeed no more than a humdrum narrative of a vulgarcrime. But it was necessary that he should know all about it, and beable to summarize it, and so he read it over with unusual care. It was avery plain story--there were no complications. It appeared from theevidence adduced that for some time previous to 1881 there had been inexistence in Wilchester a building society, the members of which werechiefly of the small tradesman and better-class working-man order. Itschief officials for a year or two had been John Mallows and MarkChidforth, who were respectively treasurer and secretary. Mallows wasforeman to a builder in the town; Chidforth was clerk to the sameemployer. Both were young men. They were evidently regarded as smartfellows. Up to the time of the revelations they had borne the very bestof characters. Each had lived in Wilchester since childhood; each hadcontinued his education at night schools and institute classes after theusual elementary school days were over; each was credited with anambitious desire to rise in the world. Each, as a young man, wasattached to religious organizations--Mallows was a sidesman at one ofthe churches, Chidforth was a Sunday-school teacher at one of thechapels. Both had been fully and firmly trusted, and it appeared fromthe evidence that they had had what practically amounted to unsupervisedcontrol of the building society's funds. And--the really importantpoint--there was no doubt whatever that they had helped themselves tosome two thousand pounds of their fellow-members' money.
All this was clear enough: it took little time for Brereton to acquainthimself with these facts. What was not so clear was the whereabouts ordisposal of the money. From the evidence there appeared to be twoconflicting notions current in Wilchester at the time. Some peopleapparently believed confidently that the two culprits had lost the moneyin secret speculation and in gambling: other people were just as certainthat they had quietly put the money away in some safe quarter. Theprisoners themselves absolutely refused to give the least scrap ofinformation: ever since their arrest they had maintained a stolidsilence and a defiant demeanour. More than once during the progress ofthe trial they had opportunities of making clean breasts of theirmisdoings and refused to take them. Found guilty, they were put backuntil next day for sentence--that, of course, was to give them anotherchance of saying what they had done with the money. But they had kept uptheir silence to the end, and they had been sentenced to two years'imprisonment, with hard labour, and so had disappeared from public view,with their secret--if there really was a secret--intact.
So much for the newspaper cutting from the _Wilchester Sentinel_. Butthere was more to read. The cutting came to an end on the top half of apage in the scrap-book; underneath it on the blank half of the pageKitely had made an entry, dated three years after the trial.
"Wilchester: June 28, 1884. _Re_ above. Came down here on business todayand had a talk with police about M. & C. and the money. M. & C. neverbeen heard of since their release. Were released at same time, and seenin the town an hour or two later, after which they disappeared--a manwho spoke to M. says that M. told him they were going to emigrate. Theyare believed to have gone to Argentine. Both had relatives inWilchester, but either they don't know anything of M. & C.'s subsequentdoings, or they keep silence. No further trace of money, and opinionstill divided as to w
hat they really did with it: many people in W.firmly convinced that they had it safely planted, and have gone to it."
To Brereton the whole affair was now as plain as a pikestaff. The olddetective, accidentally settling down at Highmarket, had recognizedMallalieu and Cotherstone, the prosperous tradesmen of that little,out-of-the-way town, as the Mallows and Chidforth whom he had seen inthe dock at Wilchester, and he had revealed his knowledge to one or theother or both. That was certain. But there were many things that werefar from certain. What had happened when Kitely revealed himself as aman who had been a witness of their conviction in those far-off days?How had he revealed himself? Had he endeavoured to blackmail them? Itwas possible.
But there was still more to think over. How had the dead clerk, Stoner,got his knowledge of this great event in the life of his employers? Hadhe got it from Kitely? That was not likely. Yet Stoner had written downin his pocket-book an entry which was no more and no less than a_precis_ of the absolute facts. Somehow, somewhere, Stoner had madehimself fully acquainted with Mallalieu and Cotherstone's secret. DidStoner's death arise out of a knowledge of that secret? On the face ofthings there could be little doubt that it did. Who, then, struck theblow which killed Stoner, or, if it did not actually kill him, causedhis death by bringing about the fall which broke his neck? Was itMallalieu?--or was it Cotherstone?
That one or other, or both, were guilty of Kitely's murder, and possiblyof Stoner's, Brereton was by that time absolutely certain. Andrealizing that certainty, he felt himself placed in a predicament whichcould not fail to be painful. It was his duty, as counsel for aninnocent man, to press to the full his inquiries into the conduct of menwhom he believed to be guilty. In this he was faced with an unpleasantsituation. He cared nothing about Mallalieu. If Mallalieu was a guiltyman, let Mallalieu pay the richly-deserved consequences of his misdeeds.Brereton, without being indifferent or vindictive or callous, knew thatit would not give him one extra heart-throb if he heard Mallalieu foundguilty and sentenced to the gallows. But Cotherstone was the father ofthe girl to whom Windle Bent was shortly to be married--and Bent andBrereton had been close friends ever since they first went to schooltogether.
It was a sad situation, an unpleasant thing to face. He had come on avisit to Bent, he had prolonged that visit in order to defend a man whomhe firmly believed to be as innocent as a child--and now he was to bringdisgrace and shame on a family with whom his host and friend was soon tobe allied by the closest of ties. But--better that than that an innocentman should suffer! And walking up and down Bent's smoking-room, andthinking the whole thing through and through, he half made up his mindto tell Bent all about it when he returned.
Brereton presently put on hat and coat and left the house. It was thenhalf-past seven; a sharp, frosty November evening, with an almost fullmoon rising in a clear, star-sprinkled sky. The sudden change from thewarmth of the house to the frost-laden atmosphere of the hillsidequickened his mental faculties; he lighted his pipe, and resolved totake a brisk walk along the road which led out of Highmarket and tooccupy himself with another review of the situation. A walk in thecountry by day or night and in solitude had always had attractions forBrereton and he set out on this with zest. But he had not gone a hundredyards in the direction of the moors when Avice Harborough came out ofthe gate of Northrop's garden and met him.
"I was coming to see you," she said quietly. "I have heard somethingthat I thought you ought to hear, too--at once."
"Yes?" responded Brereton.
Avice drew an envelope from her muff and gave it to him.
"A boy brought that to me half an hour ago," she said. "It is from anold woman, Mrs. Hamthwaite, who lives in a very lonely place on themoors up above Hobwick Quarry. Can you read it in this light?"
"I will," answered Brereton, drawing a scrap of paper from the envelope."Here," he went on, giving it back to Avice, "you hold it, and I'llstrike a match--the moonlight's scarcely strong enough. Now," hecontinued, taking a box of vestas from his pocket and striking one,"steady--'If Miss Harborough will come up to see Susan Hamthwaite I willtell you something that you might like to know.' Ah!" he exclaimed,throwing away the match. "Now, how far is it to this old woman'scottage?"
"Two miles," replied Avice.
"Can you go there now?" he asked.
"I thought of doing so," she answered.
"Come along, then," said Brereton. "We'll go together. If she objects tomy presence I'll leave you with her and wait about for you. Of course,she wants to tell you something relating to your father."
"You think so?" said Avice. "I only hope it is!"
"Certain to be," he replied. "What else could it be?"
"There are so many strange things to tell about, just now," sheremarked. "Besides, if old Mrs. Hamthwaite knows anything, why hasn'tshe let me know until tonight?"
"Oh, there's no accounting for that!" said Brereton. "Old women havetheir own way of doing things. By the by," he continued, as they turnedout of the road and began to climb a path which led to the first ridgeof the moors outside the town, "I haven't seen you today--you've heardof this Stoner affair?"
"Mr. Northrop told me this afternoon," she replied. "What do you thinkabout it?"
Brereton walked on a little way without replying. He was asking aserious question of himself. Should he tell all he knew to AviceHarborough?