"Well," continued Hawthwaite, "as regards that, there are all sorts of knives. It would be a long, thin weapon, said Dr. Wellesley; and Dr. Barber, he suggested that it was the sort of wound that would be caused by one of those old-fashioned rapiers. And they did say, both of them, that it had been used--whatever the weapon was--with great force: gone clean through." Peppermore was listening to these gruesome details with all the ardour of the born news-seeker. But Brent turned away. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked. "Why, there isn't," replied Hawthwaite. "The fact is, there is nothing to do outside our work. The doctors are doing theirs, and there'll have to be an inquest of course. I've sent to notify Mr. Seagrave, the coroner, already, and I'm having a thorough search made of the Moot Hall, and making inquiries about his Worship's last movements. There's nothing more can be done, at present. One of my men has gone round to tell his landlady. It's a fortunate thing, Mr. Brent," he added with a knowing look, "that your cousin wasn't a married man! This would have been a fine thing to have to break to a man's wife and family! About relations, now, Mr. Brent, you'll know what to do? I know nothing about his private affairs." "Yes," answered Brent. "But I'm much more concerned, just now, about his public affairs. It seems to me--indeed, it's no use trying to disguise it--that this has arisen out of the fact that as Mayor of Hathelsborough he was concerning himself in bringing about some drastic reforms in the town. You probably know yourself that he wasn't popular----" "Yes, yes, Mr. Brent," interrupted Hawthwaite. "But then, you know, murder----! I can't think there's anybody in this place would carry their likes to that length! Murder!" "You don't know," said Brent. "But, at any rate, I'm my cousin's nearest blood-relation, and I'm going to find out who killed him, if it's humanly possible. Now who is there in the town who knows most about his public affairs--who is there who's most conversant with whatever it was that he had in hand?" Hawthwaite seemed to consider matters. "Well, Alderman Crood, the tanner, is the Deputy-Mayor," he replied at last. "I should say he's as good a man to go to as anybody, Mr. Brent. He's chairman of the Financial Committee too; and it was in financial matters that Mr. Wallingford was wanting to make these reforms you've mentioned. If there's anything known--I mean that I don't know--Alderman Crood's the most likely man to know it." "Alderman Crood," remarked Peppermore softly, "knows everything that goes on in Hathelsborough--everything!" "So to speak; so to speak!" said Hawthwaite. "There are things of course----" "Where does Alderman Crood live?" asked Brent. Already he was moving towards the door. "As I can do nothing here, I'll go to him at once. I'm not going to leave a stone unturned in this matter, superintendent."