"I am a burgess, a resident, and a property-owner in the town. I took up this work--which I mean to see right through!--in succession to my cousin, John Wallingford, late Mayor of this borough, who was murdered in this very hall," said Brent. "There are men here who know that he was working day and night to bring about the financial reforms which I advocate." The inspector moved uneasily in his seat at the sound of the word which Brent emphasized in his reference to his cousin. "I am sure I sympathize with you, Mr. Brent," he said. "I have been much grieved to hear of the late Mayor's sad fate. But you say you have voluntarily taken up his work? Did he leave you any facts, figures, statistics, particulars, to work on?" "If he had known that I was going to take up his work he would doubtless have left me plenty," replied Brent. "But he was murdered! He had such things--a certain note-book, filled with his discoveries." "Where is that book?" inquired the inspector. "Can it be produced?" "It cannot," said Brent. "It was stolen when my cousin was killed." The inspector hesitated, shuffling his papers. "Then you have no figures, facts, anything, Mr. Brent?" he said presently. "Nothing to support your newspaper articles?" "Nothing of that sort," answered Brent. "My articles refer wholly to the general principle of the thing." The inspector smiled. "I'm afraid governments--national or municipal--aren't run on general principles, Mr. Brent," he remarked. "No!" said Brent. "They seem to be run on the lack of them." The official inquiry came to an end on that--amidst good-humoured laughter at Brent's apparently ingenuous retort. The inspector announced that he would issue his report in due course, and everybody knew what it would be. The good old ways, the time-honoured customs would have another lease of life. Once more, Simon Crood had come out on top. But as he was leaving the Moot Hall, Brent felt his arm touched and turned to see Hawthwaite. The superintendent gave him a knowing look. "To-morrow!" he whispered. "Be prepared! All's done; all's ready!" CHAPTER XX THE FELL HAND