Brereton made nothing out either, at first glance. The papers were just what the superintendent described them to be, and he went rapidly through them without finding anything particularly worthy of notice. But to the little memorandum book he gave more attention, especially to the recent entries. And one of these, made within the last three months, struck him as soon as he looked at it, insignificant as it seemed to be. It was only of one line, and the one line was only of a few initials, an abbreviation or two, and a date: _M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81_. And why this apparently innocent entry struck Brereton was because he was still thinking as an under-current to all this, of Mallalieu and Cotherstone--and M. and C. were certainly the initials of those not too common names. CHAPTER XI CHRISTOPHER PETT The two men sat staring silently at the paper-strewn desk for several moments; each occupied with his own thoughts. At last the superintendent began to put the several exhibits together, and he turned to Brereton with a gesture which suggested a certain amount of mental impatience. "There's one thing in all this that I can't understand, sir," he said. "And it's this--it's very evident that whoever killed Kitely wanted the papers that Kitely carried in that pocket-book. Why did he take 'em out of the pocket-book and throw the pocket-book away? I don't know how that strikes you--but it licks me, altogether!" "Yes," agreed Brereton, "it's puzzling--certainly. You'd think that the murderer would have carried off the pocket-book, there and then. That he took the papers from it, threw the pocket-book itself away, and then placed the papers--or some of them--where your people have just found them--in Harborough's shed--seems to me to argue something which is even more puzzling. I daresay you see what I mean?" "Can't say that I do, sir," answered the superintendent. "I haven't had much experience in this sort of work, you know, Mr. Brereton--it's a good bit off our usual line. What do you mean, then?"