"We can do without bridesmaids," replied Bent, laying his hand on Lettie's arm. "If your father really feels that he's got to have the rest and the change he spoke of, and wants us to be married first, why, then----" "But there's nothing to prevent you having a rest and a change now, father," said Lettie. "Why not? I don't like my arrangements to be altered--I had planned everything out so carefully. When we did fix on next spring, Windle, I had only just time as it was!" "Pooh!" said Bent. "We could get married the day after tomorrow if we wanted! Bridesmaids--gowns--all that sort of tomfoolery, what does it matter?" "It isn't tomfoolery," retorted Lettie. "If I am to be married I should like to be married properly." She got up, with a heightened colour and a little toss of her head, and left the room, and the two men looked at each other. "Talk to her, my lad," said Cotherstone at last. "Of course, girls think such a lot of--of all the accompaniments, eh?" "Yes, yes--it'll be all right," replied Bent. He tapped Cotherstone's arm and gave him a searching look. "You're not keeping anything back--about your health, are you?" he asked. Cotherstone glanced at the door and sank his voice to a whisper. "It's my heart!" he answered. "Over-strained--much over-strained, the doctor says. Rest and change--imperative! But--not a word to Lettie, Bent. Talk her round--get it arranged. I shall feel safer--you understand?" Bent was full of good nature, and though he understood to the full--it was a natural thing, this anxiety of a father for his only child. He promised to talk seriously to Lettie at once about an early wedding. And that night he told Brereton of what had happened, and asked him if he knew how special licences can be got, and Brereton informed him of all he knew on that point--and kept silence about one which to him was becoming deeply and seriously important. CHAPTER XIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER Within a week of that night Brereton was able to sum things up, to take stock, to put clearly before himself the position of affairs as they related to his mysterious client. They had by that time come to a clear issue: a straight course lay ahead with its ultimate stages veiled in obscurity. Harborough had again been brought up before the Highmarket magistrates, had stubbornly refused to give any definite information about his exact doings on the night of Kitely's murder, and had been duly committed for trial on the capital charge. On the same day the coroner, after holding an inquest extending over two sittings, had similarly committed him. There was now nothing to do but to wait until the case came on at Norcaster Assizes. Fortunately, the assizes were fixed for the middle of the ensuing month: Brereton accordingly had three weeks wherein to prepare his defence--or (which would be an eminently satisfactory equivalent) to definitely fix the guilt on some other person.