The Borough Treasurer | Page 3

been the face of a man resurrected from the grave. Within him there was a feeling of extraordinary physical sickness; it was quickly followed by one of inertia, just as extraordinary. He felt as if he had been mesmerized; as if he could neither move nor speak. And Kitely sat there, a hand on his victim's arm, his face sinister and purposeful, close to his.
"Fact!" he murmured. "Absolute fact! I remember everything. It's come on me bit by bit, though. I thought I knew you when I first came here--then I had a feeling that I knew Mallalieu. And--in time--I remembered--everything! Of course, when I saw you both--where I did see you--you weren't Mallalieu & Cotherstone. You were----"
Cotherstone suddenly made an effort, and shook off the thin fingers which lay on his sleeve. His pale face grew crimson, and the veins swelled on his forehead.
"Confound you!" he said in a low, concentrated voice. "Who are you?"
Kitely shook his head and smiled quietly.
"No need to grow warm," he answered. "Of course, it's excusable in you. Who am I? Well, if you really want to know, I've been employed in the police line for thirty-five years--until lately."
"A detective!" exclaimed Cotherstone.
"Not when I was present at Wilchester--that time," replied Kitely. "But afterwards--in due course. Ah!--do you know, I often was curious as to what became of you both! But I never dreamed of meeting you--here. Of course, you came up North after you'd done your time? Changed your names, started a new life--and here you are! Clever!"
Cotherstone was recovering his wits. He had got out of his chair by that time, and had taken up a position on the hearthrug, his back to the fire, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his visitor. He was thinking--and for the moment he let Kitely talk.
"Yes--clever!" continued Kitely in the same level, subdued tones, "very clever indeed! I suppose you'd carefully planted some of that money you--got hold of? Must have done, of course--you'd want money to start this business. Well, you've done all this on the straight, anyhow. And you've done well, too. Odd, isn't it, that I should come to live down here, right away in the far North of England, and find you in such good circumstances, too! Mr. Mallalieu, Mayor of Highmarket--his second term of office! Mr. Cotherstone, Borough Treasurer of Highmarket--now in his sixth year of that important post! I say again--you've both done uncommonly well--uncommonly!"
"Have you got any more to say?" asked Cotherstone.
But Kitely evidently intended to say what he had to say in his own fashion. He took no notice of Cotherstone's question, and presently, as if he were amusing himself with reminiscences of a long dead past, he spoke again, quietly and slowly.
"Yes," he murmured, "uncommonly well! And of course you'd have capital. Put safely away, of course, while you were doing your time. Let's see--it was a Building Society that you defrauded, wasn't it? Mallalieu was treasurer, and you were secretary. Yes--I remember now. The amount was two thous----"
Cotherstone made a sudden exclamation and a sharp movement--both checked by an equally sudden change of attitude and expression on the part of the ex-detective. For Kitely sat straight up and looked the junior partner squarely in the face.
"Better not, Mr. Cotherstone!" he said, with a grin that showed his yellow teeth. "You can't very well choke the life out of me in your own office, can you? You couldn't hide my old carcase as easily as you and Mallalieu hid those Building Society funds, you know. So--be calm! I'm a reasonable man--and getting an old man."
He accompanied the last words with a meaning smile, and Cotherstone took a turn or two about the room, trying to steady himself. And Kitely presently went on again, in the same monotonous tones:
"Think it all out--by all means," he said. "I don't suppose there's a soul in all England but myself knows your secret--and Mallalieu's. It was sheer accident, of course, that I ever discovered it. But--I know! Just consider what I do know. Consider, too, what you stand to lose. There's Mallalieu, so much respected that he's Mayor of this ancient borough for the second time. There's you--so much trusted that you've been Borough Treasurer for years. You can't afford to let me tell the Highmarket folk that you two are ex-convicts! Besides, in your case there's another thing--there's your daughter."
Cotherstone groaned--a deep, unmistakable groan of sheer torture. But Kitely went on remorselessly.
"Your daughter's just about to marry the most promising young man in the place," he said. "A young fellow with a career before him. Do you think he'd marry her if he knew that her father--even if it is thirty years ago--had been convicted of----"
"Look you here!" interrupted Cotherstone, through set teeth. "I've had enough! I've asked