The Borough Treasurer | Page 9

"Much more than I do," replied Bent. "The old chap's nothing to do,
you know, and since he took up his abode here he's been spending all
his time digging up local records--he's a good bit of an antiquary, and
that sort of thing. The Town Clerk tells me Kitely's been through nearly
all the old town documents--chests full of them! And Kitely told me
one day that if I liked he'd trace our pedigree back to I don't know when,
and as he seemed keen, I told him to go ahead. He's found out a lot of
interesting things in the borough records that I never heard of."
Cotherstone had kept his eyes on his plate while Bent was talking; he
spoke now without looking up.
"Oh?" he said, trying to speak unconcernedly. "Ah!--then you'll have
been seeing a good deal of Kitely lately?"
"Not so much," replied Bent. "He's brought me the result of his work
now and then--things he's copied out of old registers, and so on."
"And what good might it all amount to?" asked Cotherstone, more for
the sake of talking than for any interest he felt. "Will it come to aught?"

"Bent wants to trace his family history back to the Conquest," observed
Brereton, slyly. "He thinks the original Bent came over with the
Conqueror. But his old man hasn't got beyond the Tudor period yet."
"Never mind!" said Bent. "There were Bents in Highmarket in Henry
the Seventh's time, anyhow. And if one has a pedigree, why not have it
properly searched out? He's a keen old hand at that sort of thing, Kitely.
The Town Clerk says he can read some of our borough charters of six
hundred years ago as if they were newspaper articles."
Cotherstone made no remark on that. He was thinking. So Kitely was in
close communication with Bent, was he?--constantly seeing him, being
employed by him? Well, that cut two ways. It showed that up to now he
had taken no advantage of his secret knowledge and might therefore be
considered as likely to play straight if he were squared by the two
partners. But it also proved that Bent would probably believe anything
that Kitely might tell him. Certainly Kitely must be dealt with at once.
He knew too much, and was obviously too clever, to be allowed to go
about unfettered. Cost what it might, he must be attached to the
Mallalieu-Cotherstone interest. And what Cotherstone was
concentrating on just then, as he ate and drank, was--how to make that
attachment in such a fashion that Kitely would have no option but to
keep silence. If only he and Mallalieu could get a hold on Kitely, such
as that which he had on them----
"Well," he said as supper came to an end, "I'm sorry, but I'm forced to
leave you gentlemen for an hour, at any rate--can't be helped. Lettie,
you must try to amuse 'em until I come back. Sing Mr. Brereton some
of your new songs. Bent--you know where the whisky and the cigars
are--help yourselves--make yourselves at home."
"You won't be more than an hour, father?" asked Lettie.
"An hour'll finish what I've got to do," replied Cotherstone, "maybe
less--I'll be as quick as I can, anyway, my lass."
He hurried off without further ceremony; a moment later and he had
exchanged the warmth and brightness of his comfortable dining-room

for the chill night and the darkness. And as he turned out of his garden
he was thinking still further and harder. So Windle Bent was one of
those chaps who have what folk call family pride, was he? Actually
proud of the fact that he had a pedigree, and could say who his
grandfather and grandmother were?--things on which most people were
as hazy as they were indifferent. In that case, if he was really
family-proud, all the more reason why Kitely should be made to keep
his tongue still. For if Windle Bent was going on the game of making
out that he was a man of family, he certainly would not relish the
prospect of uniting his ancient blood with that of a man who had seen
the inside of a prison. Kitely!--promptly and definitely--and for
good!--that was the ticket.
Cotherstone went off into the shadows of the night--and a good hour
had passed when he returned to his house. It was then ten o'clock; he
afterwards remembered that he glanced at the old grandfather clock in
his hall when he let himself in. All was very quiet in there; he opened
the drawing-room door to find the two young men and Lettie sitting
over a bright fire, and Brereton evidently telling the other two some
story, which he was just bringing to a conclusion.
" ... for it's a