The Borough Treasurer

  Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  THE BOROUGHTREASURER

  BY

  J. S. FLETCHER

  AUTHOR OF

  THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER,THE PARADISE MYSTERY, ETC.

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

  Made in the United States of America

  COPYRIGHT, 1921, BYALFRED A. KNOPF, INC.

  Published July, 1921Second Printing, November, 1921

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CONTENTS

  I BLACKMAIL, 1

  II CRIME--AND SUCCESS, 11

  III MURDER, 21

  IV THE PINE WOOD, 31

  V THE CORD, 41

  VI THE MAYOR, 52

  VII NIGHT WORK, 61

  VIII RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE, 71

  IX ANTECEDENTS, 82

  X THE HOLE IN THE THATCH, 91

  XI CHRISTOPHER PETT, 101

  XII PARENTAL ANXIETY, 111

  XIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER, 121

  XIV THE SHEET OF FIGURES, 131

  XV ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER, 141

  XVI THE LONELY MOOR, 149

  XVII THE MEDICAL OPINION, 159

  XVIII THE SCRAP BOOK, 171

  XIX A TALL MAN IN GREY CLOTHES, 181

  XX AT BAY, 191

  XXI THE INTERRUPTED FLIGHT, 203

  XXII THE HAND IN THE DARKNESS, 211

  XXIII COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY, 221

  XXIV STRICT BUSINESS LINES, 231

  XXV NO FURTHER EVIDENCE, 242

  XXVI THE VIRTUES OF SUSPICION, 251

  XXVII MR. WRAYTHWAITE OF WRAYE, 260

  XXVIII PAGES FROM THE PAST, 269

  XXIX WITHOUT THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCES, 277

  XXX COTHERSTONE, 283

  XXXI THE BARRISTER'S FEE, 302

  THE BOROUGH TREASURER

  CHAPTER I

  BLACKMAIL

  Half way along the north side of the main street of Highmarket anancient stone gateway, imposing enough to suggest that it was originallythe entrance to some castellated mansion or manor house, gave access toa square yard, flanked about by equally ancient buildings. What thosebuildings had been used for in other days was not obvious to the casualand careless observer, but to the least observant their present use wasobvious enough. Here were piles of timber from Norway; there were stacksof slate from Wales; here was marble from Aberdeen, and there cementfrom Portland: the old chambers of the grey buildings were filled tooverflowing with all the things that go towards making ahouse--ironwork, zinc, lead, tiles, great coils of piping, stores ofdomestic appliances. And on a shining brass plate, set into the wall,just within the gateway, were deeply engraven the words: _Mallalieu andCotherstone, Builders and Contractors_.

  Whoever had walked into Mallalieu & Cotherstone's yard one Octoberafternoon a few years ago would have seen Mallalieu and Cotherstone inperson. The two partners had come out of their office and gone down theyard to inspect half a dozen new carts, just finished, and now drawn upin all the glory of fresh paint. Mallalieu had designed those cartshimself, and he was now pointing out their advantages to Cotherstone,who was more concerned with the book-keeping and letter-writing side ofthe business than with its actual work. He was a big, fleshy man,Mallalieu, midway between fifty and sixty, of a large, solemn,well-satisfied countenance, small, sly eyes, and an expression of steadywatchfulness; his attire was always of the eminently respectable sort,his linen fresh and glossy; the thick gold chain across his ample front,and the silk hat which he invariably wore, gave him an unmistakable airof prosperity. He stood now, the silk hat cocked a little to one side,one hand under the tail of his broadcloth coat, a pudgy finger of theother pointing to some new feature of the mechanism of the new carts,and he looked the personification of self-satisfaction and smug content.

  "All done in one action, d'ye see, Cotherstone?" he was saying. "Onepull at that pin releases the entire load. We'd really ought to have apatent for that idea."

  Cotherstone went nearer the cart which they were examining. He was agood deal of a contrast to his partner--a slightly built, wiry man,nervous and quick of movement; although he was Mallalieu's junior helooked older, and the thin hair at his temples was already whitening.Mallalieu suggested solidity and almost bovine sleekness; inCotherstone, activity of speech and gesture was marked well-nigh to anappearance of habitual anxiety. He stepped about the cart with the quickaction of an inquisitive bird or animal examining something which it hasnever seen before.

  "Yes, yes, yes!" he answered. "Yes, that's a good idea. But if it's tobe patented, you know, we ought to see to it at once, before these cartsgo into use."

  "Why, there's nobody in Highmarket like to rob us," observed Mallalieu,good-humouredly. "You might consider about getting--what do they callit?--provisional protection?--for it."

  "I'll look it up," responded Cotherstone. "It's worth that, anyhow."

  "Do," said Mallalieu. He pulled out the big gold watch which hung fromthe end of his cable chain and glanced at its jewelled dial. "Dear me!"he exclaimed. "Four o'clock--I've a meeting in the Mayor's parlour atten past. But I'll look in again before going home."

  He hurried away towards the entrance gate, and Cotherstone, afterruminative inspection of the new carts, glanced at some papers in hishand and went over to a consignment of goods which required checking. Hewas carefully ticking them off on a list when a clerk came down theyard.

  "Mr. Kitely called to pay his rent, sir," he announced. "He asked to seeyou yourself."

  "Twenty-five--six--seven," counted Cotherstone. "Take him into theprivate office, Stoner," he answered. "I'll be there in a minute."

  He continued his checking until it was finished, entered the figures onhis list, and went briskly back to the counting-house near the gateway.There he bustled into a room kept sacred to himself and Mallalieu, witha cheery greeting to his visitor--an elderly man who had recentlyrented from him a small house on the outskirts of the town.

  "Afternoon, Mr. Kitely," he said. "Glad to see you, sir--always glad tosee anybody with a bit of money, eh? Take a chair, sir--I hope you'resatisfied with the little place, Mr. Kitely?"

  The visitor took the offered elbow-chair, folded his hands on the top ofhis old-fashioned walking-cane, and glanced at his landlord with ahalf-humorous, half-quizzical expression. He was an elderly,clean-shaven, grey-haired man, spare of figure, dressed in rusty black;a wisp of white neckcloth at his throat gave him something of a clericalappearance: Cotherstone, who knew next to nothing about him, except thathe was able to pay his rent and taxes, had already set him down as aretired verger of some cathedral.

  "I should think you and Mr. Mallalieu are in no need of a bit of money,Mr. Cotherstone," he said quietly. "Business seems to be good with you,sir."

  "Oh, so-so," replied Cotherstone, off-handedly. "Naught to complain of,of course. I'll give you a receipt, Mr. Kitely," he went on, seatinghimself at his desk and taking up a book of forms. "Let'ssee--twenty-five pounds a year is six pound five a quarter--there youare, sir. Will you have a drop of whisky?"

  Kitely laid a handful of gold and silver on the desk, took the receipt,and nodd
ed his head, still watching Cotherstone with the samehalf-humorous expression.

  "Thank you," he said. "I shouldn't mind."

  He watched Cotherstone produce a decanter and glasses, watched him fetchfresh water from a filter in the corner of the room, watched him mix thedrinks, and took his own with no more than a polite nod of thanks. AndCotherstone, murmuring an expression of good wishes, took a drinkhimself, and sat down with his desk-chair turned towards his visitor.

  "Aught you'd like doing at the house, Mr. Kitely?" he asked.

  "No," answered Kitely, "no, I can't say that there is."

  There was something odd, almost taciturn, in his manner, and Cotherstoneglanced at him a little wonderingly.

  "And how do you like Highmarket, now you've had a spell of it?" heinquired. "Got settled down, I suppose, now?"

  "It's all that I expected," replied Kitely. "Quiet--peaceful. How do youlike it?"

  "Me!" exclaimed Cotherstone, surprised. "Me?--why, I've had--yes,five-and-twenty years of it!"

  Kitely took another sip from his glass and set it down. He gaveCotherstone a sharp look.

  "Yes," he said, "yes--five-and-twenty years. You and your partner, both.Yes--it'll be just about thirty years since I first saw you. But--you'veforgotten."

  Cotherstone, who had been lounging forward, warming his hands at thefire, suddenly sat straight up in his chair. His face, always sharpseemed to grow sharper as he turned to his visitor with a questioninglook.

  "Since--what?" he demanded.

  "Since I first saw you--and Mr. Mallalieu," replied Kitely. "As I say,you've forgotten. But--I haven't."

  Cotherstone sat staring at his tenant for a full minute ofspeechlessness. Then he slowly rose, walked over to the door, looked atit to see that it was closed, and returning to the hearth, fixed hiseyes on Kitely.

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Just what I say," answered Kitely, with a dry laugh. "It's thirty yearssince I first saw you and Mallalieu. That's all."

  "Where?" demanded Cotherstone.

  Kitely motioned his landlord to sit down. And Cotherstone satdown--trembling. His arm shook when Kitely laid a hand on it.

  "Do you want to know where?" he asked, bending close to Cotherstone."I'll tell you. In the dock--at Wilchester Assizes. Eh?"

  Cotherstone made no answer. He had put the tips of his fingers together,and now he was tapping the nails of one hand against the nails of theother. And he stared and stared at the face so close to his own--as ifit had been the face of a man resurrected from the grave. Within himthere was a feeling of extraordinary physical sickness; it was quicklyfollowed by one of inertia, just as extraordinary. He felt as if he hadbeen mesmerized; as if he could neither move nor speak. And Kitely satthere, 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 onme bit by bit, though. I thought I knew you when I first camehere--then I had a feeling that I knew Mallalieu. And--in time--Iremembered--everything! Of course, when I saw you both--where I did seeyou--you weren't Mallalieu & Cotherstone. You were----"

  Cotherstone suddenly made an effort, and shook off the thin fingerswhich lay on his sleeve. His pale face grew crimson, and the veinsswelled 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 thepolice line for thirty-five years--until lately."

  "A detective!" exclaimed Cotherstone.

  "Not when I was present at Wilchester--that time," replied Kitely. "Butafterwards--in due course. Ah!--do you know, I often was curious as towhat became of you both! But I never dreamed of meeting you--here. Ofcourse, you came up North after you'd done your time? Changed yournames, started a new life--and here you are! Clever!"

  Cotherstone was recovering his wits. He had got out of his chair by thattime, and had taken up a position on the hearthrug, his back to thefire, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his visitor. He wasthinking--and for the moment he let Kitely talk.

  "Yes--clever!" continued Kitely in the same level, subdued tones, "veryclever indeed! I suppose you'd carefully planted some of that moneyyou--got hold of? Must have done, of course--you'd want money to startthis business. Well, you've done all this on the straight, anyhow. Andyou've done well, too. Odd, isn't it, that I should come to live downhere, right away in the far North of England, and find you in such goodcircumstances, too! Mr. Mallalieu, Mayor of Highmarket--his second termof office! Mr. Cotherstone, Borough Treasurer of Highmarket--now in hissixth year of that important post! I say again--you've both doneuncommonly well--uncommonly!"

  "Have you got any more to say?" asked Cotherstone.

  But Kitely evidently intended to say what he had to say in his ownfashion. He took no notice of Cotherstone's question, and presently, asif he were amusing himself with reminiscences of a long dead past, hespoke 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'ssee--it was a Building Society that you defrauded, wasn't it? Mallalieuwas treasurer, and you were secretary. Yes--I remember now. The amountwas two thous----"

  Cotherstone made a sudden exclamation and a sharp movement--bothchecked by an equally sudden change of attitude and expression on thepart of the ex-detective. For Kitely sat straight up and looked thejunior partner squarely in the face.

  "Better not, Mr. Cotherstone!" he said, with a grin that showed hisyellow teeth. "You can't very well choke the life out of me in your ownoffice, can you? You couldn't hide my old carcase as easily as you andMallalieu hid those Building Society funds, you know. So--be calm! I'm areasonable man--and getting an old man."

  He accompanied the last words with a meaning smile, and Cotherstone tooka turn or two about the room, trying to steady himself. And Kitelypresently went on again, in the same monotonous tones:

  "Think it all out--by all means," he said. "I don't suppose there's asoul in all England but myself knows your secret--and Mallalieu's. Itwas 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 ancientborough for the second time. There's you--so much trusted that you'vebeen Borough Treasurer for years. You can't afford to let me tell theHighmarket folk that you two are ex-convicts! Besides, in your casethere's another thing--there's your daughter."

  Cotherstone groaned--a deep, unmistakable groan of sheer torture. ButKitely went on remorselessly.

  "Your daughter's just about to marry the most promising young man in theplace," he said. "A young fellow with a career before him. Do you thinkhe'd marry her if he knew that her father--even if it is thirty yearsago--had been convicted of----"

  "Look you here!" interrupted Cotherstone, through set teeth. "I've hadenough! I've asked you once before if you'd any more to say--now I'llput it in another fashion. For I see what you're after--and it'sblackmail! How much do you want? Come on--give it a name!"

  "Name nothing, till you've told Mallalieu," answered Kitely. "There's nohurry. You two can't, and I shan't, run away. Time enough--I've the whiphand. Tell your partner, the Mayor, all I've told you--then you can putyour heads together, and see what you're inclined to do. An annuity,now?--that would suit me."

  "You haven't mentioned this to a soul?" asked Cotherstone anxiously.

  "Bah!" sneered Kitely. "D'ye think I'm a fool? Not likely. Well--now youknow. I'll come in here again tomorrow afternoon. And--you'll both behere, and ready with a proposal."

  He picked up his glass, leisurely drank off its remaining contents, andwithout a word of farewell opened the door and went quietly away.