'Go home, like a wise man, and know naught about it. Let him be found--and say naught. But if you do, you know what to expect.' 'Not a word that I came in here, then?' I said at last. 'Nobody'll get no words from me beyond what I choose to give 'em', she says. 'And--silence about the other?' I said. 'Just as long as you're silent,' she says. And with that I walked out--and I set off towards home by another way. And just as I was leaving the wood to turn into the path that leads into our lane I heard a man coming along and I shrank into some shrubs and watched for him till he came close up. He passed me and went on to the cottage--and I slipped back then and looked in through the window, and there he was, and they were both whispering together at the table. And it--was this woman's nephew--Pett, the lawyer." The superintendent, whose face had assumed various expressions during this narrative, lifted his hands in amazement. "But--but we were in and about that cottage most of that night--afterwards!" he exclaimed. "We never saw aught of him. I know he was supposed to come down from London the _next_ night, but----" "Tell you he was there _that_ night!" insisted Cotherstone. "D'ye think I could mistake him? Well, I went home--and you know what happened afterwards: you know what she said and how she behaved when we went up--and of course I played my part. But--that bit of newspaper I've given you. I read it carefully that night, last thing. It's a column cut out of a Woking newspaper of some years ago--it's to do with an inquest in which this woman was concerned--there seems to be some evidence that she got rid of an employer of hers by poison. And d'ye know what I think, now?--I think that had been sent to Kitely, and he'd plagued her about it, or held it out as a threat to her--and--what is it?" The superintendent had risen and was taking down his overcoat. "Do you know that this woman's leaving the town tomorrow?" he said. "And there's her nephew with her, now--been here for a week? Of course, I understand why you've told me all this, Mr. Cotherstone--now that your old affair at Wilchester is common knowledge, far and wide, you don't care, and you don't see any reason for more secrecy?" "My reason," answered Cotherstone, with a grim smile, "is to show Highmarket folk that they aren't so clever as they think. For the probability is that Kitely was killed by that woman, or her nephew, or both." "I'm going up there with a couple of my best men, any way," said the superintendent. "There's no time to lose if they're clearing out tomorrow." "I'll come with you," said Cotherstone. He waited, staring at the fire until the superintendent had been into the adjacent police-station and had come back to say that he and his men were ready. "What do you mean to do?" he asked as the four of them set out. "Take them?"