The Borough Treasurer

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE ANONYMOUS LETTER

  Within a week of that night Brereton was able to sum things up, to takestock, to put clearly before himself the position of affairs as theyrelated to his mysterious client. They had by that time come to a clearissue: a straight course lay ahead with its ultimate stages veiled inobscurity. Harborough had again been brought up before the Highmarketmagistrates, had stubbornly refused to give any definite informationabout his exact doings on the night of Kitely's murder, and had beenduly committed for trial on the capital charge. On the same day thecoroner, after holding an inquest extending over two sittings, hadsimilarly committed him. There was now nothing to do but to wait untilthe case came on at Norcaster Assizes. Fortunately, the assizes werefixed for the middle of the ensuing month: Brereton accordingly hadthree weeks wherein to prepare his defence--or (which would be aneminently satisfactory equivalent) to definitely fix the guilt on someother person.

  Christopher Pett, as legal adviser to the murdered man, had felt it hisduty to remain in Highmarket until the police proceedings and thecoroner's inquest were over. He had made himself conspicuous at bothpolice-court and coroner's court, putting himself forward wherever hecould, asking questions wherever opportunity offered. Brereton's dislikeof him increased the more he saw of him; he specially resented Pett'sfamiliarity. But Pett was one of those persons who know how to combinefamiliarity with politeness and even servility; to watch or hear himtalk to any one whom he button-holed was to gain a notion of hisveneration for them. He might have been worshipping Brereton when hebuttoned-holed the young barrister after Harborough had been finallycommitted to take his trial.

  "Ah, he's a lucky man, that, Mr. Brereton!" observed Pett, collaringBrereton in a corridor outside the crowded court. "Very fortunate manindeed, sir, to have you take so much interest in him. Fancy you--withall your opportunities in town, Mr. Brereton!--stopping down here, justto defend that fellow out of--what shall we call it?--pure and simpleQuixotism! Quixotism!--I believe that's the correct term, Mr. Brereton.Oh, yes--for the man's as good as done for. Not a cat's chance! He'llswing, sir, will your client!"

  "Your simile is not a good one, Mr. Pett," retorted Brereton. "Cats aresaid to have nine lives."

  "Cat, rat, mouse, dog--no chance whatever, sir," said Pett, cheerfully."I know what a country jury'll say. If I were a betting man, Mr.Brereton--which I ain't, being a regular church attendant--I'd lay youten to one the jury'll never leave the box, sir!"

  "No--I don't think they will--when the right man is put in the dock, Mr.Pett," replied Brereton.

  Pett drew back and looked the young barrister in the face with anexpression that was half quizzical and half serious.

  "You don't mean to say that you really believe this fellow to beinnocent, Mr. Brereton?" he exclaimed. "You!--with your knowledge ofcriminal proceedings! Oh, come now, Mr. Brereton--it's very kind of you,very Quixotic, as I call it, but----"

  "You shall see," said Brereton and turned off. He had no mind to be morethan civil to Pett, and he frowned when Pett, in his eagerness, laid adetaining hand on his gown. "I'm not going to discuss it, Mr. Pett," headded, a little warmly. "I've my own view of the case."

  "But, but, Mr. Brereton--a moment!" urged Pett. "Just between ourselvesas--well, not as lawyers but as--as one gentleman to another. _Do_ youthink it possible it was some other person? Do you now, really?"

  "Didn't your estimable female relative, as you call her, say that Isuggested she might be the guilty person?" demanded Brereton,maliciously. "Come, now, Mr. Pett! You don't know all that I know!"

  Pett fell back, staring doubtfully at Brereton's curled lip, andwondering whether to take him seriously or not. And Brereton laughed andwent off--to reflect, five minutes later, that this was no laughingmatter for Harborough and his daughter, and to plunge again into themaze of thought out of which it was so difficult to drag anything thatseemed likely to be helpful.

  He interviewed Harborough again before he was taken back to Norcaster,and again he pressed him to speak, and again Harborough gave him apoint-blank refusal.

  "Not unless it comes to the very worst, sir," he said firmly, "and onlythen if I see there's no other way--and even then it would only be formy daughter's sake. But it won't come to that! There's three weeksyet--good--and if somebody can't find out the truth in three weeks----"

  "Man alive!" exclaimed Brereton. "Your own common-sense ought to tellyou that in cases like this three years isn't enough to get at thetruth! What can I do in three weeks?"

  "There's not only you, sir," replied Harborough. "There's thepolice--there's the detectives--there's----"

  "The police and the detectives are all doing their best to fasten thecrime on you!" retorted Brereton. "Of course they are! That's their way.When they've safely got one man, do you think they're going to look foranother? If you won't tell me what you were doing, and where you werethat night, well, I'll have to find out for myself."

  Harborough gave his counsel a peculiar look which Brereton could notunderstand.

  "Oh, well!" he said. "If _you_ found it out----"

  He broke off at that, and would say no more, and Brereton presently lefthim and walked thoughtfully homeward, reflecting on the prisoner's lastwords.

  "He admits there is something to be found out," he mused. "And by thatvery admission he implies that it could be found out. Now--how?Egad!--I'd give something for even the least notion!"

  Bent's parlour-maid, opening the door to Brereton, turned to a lockeddrawer in the old-fashioned clothes-press which stood in Bent's hall,and took from it a registered letter.

  "For you, sir," she said, handing it to Brereton. "Came by the noonpost, sir. The housekeeper signed for it."

  Brereton took the letter into the smoking-room and looked at it with asudden surmise that it might have something to do with the matter whichwas uppermost in his thoughts. He had had no expectation of anyregistered letter, no idea of anything that could cause anycorrespondent of his to send him any communication by registered post.There was no possibility of recognizing the handwriting of the sender,for there was no handwriting to recognize: the address was typewritten.And the postmark was London.

  Brereton carefully cut open the flap of the envelope and drew out theenclosure--a square sheet of typewriting paper folded about a thin wadof Bank of England notes. He detached these at once and glanced quicklyat them. There were six of them: all new and crisp--and each was for ahundred and fifty pounds.

  Brereton laid this money aside and opened the letter. This, too, wastypewritten: a mere glance at its termination showed that it wasanonymous. He sat down at Bent's desk and carefully read it through.

  There was no address: there was nothing beyond the postmark on theenvelope to show where the letter came from; there was absolutelynothing in the contents to give any clue to the sender. But the wordingwas clear and plain.

  "MR. GIFFORD BRERETON,--Having learnt from the newspapers that you are acting as counsel for John Harborough, charged with the murder of a man named Kitely at Highmarket, I send you the enclosed L900 to be used in furthering Harborough's defence. You will use it precisely as you think fit. You are not to spare it nor any endeavour to prove Harborough's innocence--which is known to the sender. Whenever further funds are needed, all you need do is to insert an advertisement in the personal column of _The Times_ newspaper in these words: _Highmarket Exchequer needs replenishing_, with your initials added. Allow me to suggest that you should at once offer a reward of L500 to whoever gives information which will lead to the capture and conviction of the real murderer or murderers. If this offer fails to bring information speedily, double it. I repeat that no pains must be spared in this matter, and that money to any amount is no object. The sender of this letter will keep well informed of the progress of events as narrated in the newspapers, to which you will please to afford all proper information."

  Brereton read this extraordinary com
munication through three times; thenhe replaced letter and bank-notes in the envelope, put the envelope inan inner pocket, left the house, and walking across to the Northropvilla, asked to see Avice Harborough.

  Avice came to him in Mrs. Northrop's drawing-room, and Brereton glancingkeenly at her as she entered saw that she was looking worn and pale. Heput the letter into her hands with a mere word.

  "Your father has a powerful friend--somewhere," he said.

  To his astonishment the girl showed no very great surprise. She starteda little at the sight of the money; she flushed at one or twoexpressions in the letter. But she read the letter through withoutcomment and handed it back to him with a look of inquiry.

  "You don't seem surprised!" said Brereton.

  "There has always been so much mystery to me about my father that I'mnot surprised," she replied. "No!--I'm just thankful! For thisman--whoever he is--says that my father's innocence is known to him. Andthat's--just think what it means--to me!"

  "Why doesn't he come forward and prove it, then?" demanded Brereton.

  Avice shook her head.

  "He--they--want it to be proved without that," she answered. "But--don'tyou think that if all else fails the man who wrote this would comeforward? Oh, surely!"

  Brereton stood silently looking at her for a full minute. From thefirst time of meeting with her he had felt strangely and stronglyattracted to his client's daughter, and as he looked at her now he beganto realize that he was perhaps more deeply interested in her than heknew.

  "It's all the most extraordinary mystery--this about your father--thatever I came across!" he exclaimed suddenly. Then he looked still moreclosely at her. "You've been worrying!" he said impetuously. "Don't! Ibeg you not to. I'll move heaven and earth--because I, personally, amabsolutely convinced of your father's innocence. And--here's powerfulhelp."

  "You'll do what's suggested here?" she asked.

  "Certainly! It's a capital idea," he answered. "I'd have done it myselfif I'd been a rich man--but I'm not. Cheer up, now!--we're getting onsplendidly. Look here--ask Mrs. Northrop to let you come out with me.We'll go to the solicitor--together--and see about that reward at once."

  As they presently walked down to the town Brereton gave Avice another ofhis critical looks of inspection.

  "You're feeling better," he said in his somewhat brusque fashion. "Is itthis bit of good news?"

  "That--and the sense of doing something," she answered. "If I wasn'tlooking well when you came in just now, it was because this inaction isbad for me. I want to do something!--something to help. If I could onlybe stirring--moving about. You understand?"

  "Quite!" responded Brereton. "And there is something you can do. I sawyou on a bicycle the other day. Why not give up your teaching for awhile, and scour the country round about, trying to get hold of somenews about your father's movements that night? That he won't tell usanything himself is no reason why we shouldn't find out something forourselves. He must have been somewhere--someone must have seen him! Whynot begin some investigation?--you know the district. How does thatstrike you?"

  "I should be only too thankful," she said. "And I'll do it. TheNorthrops are very kind--they'll understand, and they'll let me off.I'll begin at once--tomorrow. I'll hunt every village between the seaand the hills!"

  "Good!" said Brereton. "Some work of that sort, and this reward--ah, weshall come out all right, you'll see."

  "I don't know what we should have done if it hadn't been for you!" saidAvice. "But--we shan't forget. My father is a strange man, Mr. Brereton,but he's not the sort of man he's believed to be by these Highmarketpeople--and he's grateful to you--as you'll see."

  "But I must do something to merit his gratitude first, you know,"replied Brereton. "Come!--I've done next to nothing as yet. But we'llmake a fresh start with this reward--if your father's solicitorapproves."

  The solicitor did approve--strongly. And he opened his eyes to theirwidest extent when he read the anonymous letter and saw the bank-notes.

  "Your father," he observed to Avice, "is the most mysterious man I everheard of! The Kitely mystery, in my opinion, is nothing to theHarborough mystery. Do you really mean to tell me that you haven't anidea of what all this means?"

  "Not an idea!" replied Avice. "Not the ghost of one."

  "Well--we'll get these posters and handbills out, anyway, Mr. Brereton,"said the solicitor. "Five hundred pounds is a good figure. Lord blessyou!--some of these Highmarket folk would sell their mothers for halfthat! The whole population will be turned into amateur detectives. Nowlet's draft the exact wording, and then we'll see the printer."

  Next day the bill-poster placarded Highmarket with the reward bills, anddistributed them broadcast in shops and offices, and one of the firstpersons to lay hands on one was Mallalieu & Cotherstone's clerk, HerbertStoner.