"Not on my own business, sir," replied Pett, laying his queer-looking white fingers on his brief bag. "On the business of my esteemed feminine relative, Miss Pett. I am informed, Mr. Brereton--no offence, sir, oh, none whatever!--that you put some--no doubt necessary--questions to Miss Pett at the court this morning which had the effect of prejudicing her in the eyes--or shall we say ears?--of those who were present. Miss Pett accordingly desires that I, as her legal representative, should lose no time in putting before you the true state of the case as regards her relations with Kitely, deceased, and I accordingly, sir, in the presence of our friend, the superintendent, whom I have already spoken to outside, desire to tell you what the truth is. Informally, you understand, Mr. Brereton, informally!" "Just as you please," answered Brereton. "All this is, as you say, informal." "Quite informal, sir," agreed Pett, who gained in cheerfulness with every word. "Oh, absolutely so. Between ourselves, of course. But it'll be all the pleasanter if you know. My aunt, Miss Pett, naturally does not wish, Mr. Brereton, that any person--hereabouts or elsewhere--should entertain such suspicions of her as you seemed--I speak, sir, from information furnished--to suggest, in your examination of her today. And so, sir, I wish to tell you this. I acted as legal adviser to the late Mr. Kitely. I made his will. I have that will in this bag. And--to put matters in a nutshell, Mr. Brereton--there is not a living soul in this world who knows the contents of that will but--your humble and obedient!" "Do you propose to communicate the contents of the late Mr. Kitely's will to us?" asked Brereton, drily. "I do, sir," replied Mr. Pett. "And for this reason. My relative--Miss Pett--does not know what Mr. Kitely's profession had been, nor what Mr. Kitely died possessed of. She does not know--anything! And she will not know until I read this will to her after I have communicated the gist of it to you. And I will do that in a few words. The late Mr. Kitely, sir, was an ex-member of the detective police force. By dint of economy and thrift he had got together a nice little property--house-property, in London--Brixton, to be exact. It is worth about one hundred and fifty pounds per annum. And--to cut matters short--he has left it absolutely to Miss Pett. I myself, Mr. Brereton, am sole executor. If you desire to see the will, sir, you, or Mr. Bent, or the superintendent, are at liberty to inspect it." Brereton waved the proffered document aside and got up from his chair.