He walked slowly home, his brain still busy with possibilities and eventualities. And within five minutes of his waking at his usual hour of six it was again busy--and curious. For he and Cotherstone, both keen business men who believed in constant supervision of their workmen, were accustomed to meet at the yard at half-past six every morning, summer or winter, and he was wondering what his partner would say and do--and look like. Cotherstone was in the yard when Mallalieu reached it. He was giving some orders to a carter, and he finished what he was doing before coming up to Mallalieu. In the half light of the morning he looked pretty much as usual--but Mallalieu noticed a certain worn look under his eyes and suppressed nervousness in his voice. He himself remained silent and observant, and he let Cotherstone speak first. "Well?" said Cotherstone, coming close to him as they stood in a vacant space outside the office. "Well?" "Well?" responded Mallalieu. Cotherstone began to fidget with some account books and papers that he had brought from his house. He eyed his partner with furtive glances; Mallalieu eyed him with steady and watchful ones. "I suppose you've heard all about it?" said Cotherstone, after an awkward silence. "Aye!" replied Mallalieu, drily. "Aye, I've heard." Cotherstone looked round. There was no one near him, but he dropped his voice to a whisper. "So long as nobody but him knew," he muttered, giving Mallalieu another side glance, "so long as he hadn't said aught to anybody--and I don't think he had--we're--safe." Mallalieu was still staring quietly at Cotherstone. And Cotherstone began to grow restless under that steady, questioning look. "Oh?" observed Mallalieu, at last. "Aye? You think so? Ah!" "Good God--don't you!" exclaimed Cotherstone, roused to a sudden anger. "Why----" But just then a policeman came out of the High Street into the yard, caught sight of the two partners, and came over to them, touching his helmet. "Can your Worship step across the way?" he asked. "They've brought Harborough down, and the Super wants a word with you." CHAPTER VIII RETAINED FOR THE DEFENCE Instead of replying to the policeman by word or movement, Mallalieu glanced at Cotherstone. There was a curious suggestion in that glance which Cotherstone did not like. He was already angry; Mallalieu's inquiring look made him still angrier. "Like to come?" asked Mallalieu, laconically. "No!" answered Cotherstone, turning towards the office. "It's naught to me." He disappeared within doors, and Mallalieu walked out of the yard into the High Street--to run against Bent and Brereton, who were hurrying in the direction of the police-station, in company with another constable. "Ah!" said Mallalieu as they met. "So you've heard, too, I suppose? Heard that Harborough's been taken, I mean. Now, how was he taken?" he went on, turning to the policeman who had summoned him. "And when, and where?--let's be knowing about it."