"There were!" affirmed Mr. Pursey. "Yes--oh, yes! Aye--I've often wondered what became of 'em--Mallows and Chidforth, I mean. For from the time they got out of prison they've never been heard of in our parts. Not a word!--they disappeared completely. Some say, of course, that they had that money safely planted, and went to it. I don't know. But--off they went." "Pooh!" said Myler. "That's an easy one. Went off to some colony or other, of course. Common occurrence, father-in-law. Bert, old sport, what say if we rise on our pins and have a hundred at billiards at the Stag and Hunter--good table there." Stoner followed his friend out of the little house, and once outside took him by the arm. "Confound the billards, Dave, old man!" he said, almost trembling with suppressed excitement. "Look here!--d'you know a real quiet corner in the Stag where we can have an hour's serious consultation. You do?--then come on, and I'll tell you the most wonderful story you ever heard since your ears were opened!" Myler, immediately impressed, led the way into a small and vacant parlour in the rear of a neighbouring hostelry, ordered refreshments, bade the girl who brought them to leave him and his friend alone, and took the liberty of locking the door on their privacy. And that done he showed himself such a perfect listener that he never opened his lips until Stoner had set forth everything before him in detail. Now and then he nodded, now and then his sharp eyes dilated, now and then he clapped his hands. And in the end he smote Stoner on the shoulder. "Stoner, old sport!" he exclaimed. "It's a sure thing! Gad, I never heard a clearer. That five hundred is yours--aye, as dead certain as that my nose is mine! It's--it's--what they call inductive reasoning. The initials M. and C.--Mallows and Chidforth--Mallalieu and Cotherstone--the two thousand pounds--the fact that Kitely was at Wilchester Assizes in 1881--that he became Cotherstone's tenant thirty years after--oh, I see it all, and so will a judge and jury! Stoner, one, or both of 'em killed that old chap to silence him!" "That's my notion," assented Stoner, who was highly pleased with himself, and by that time convinced that his own powers, rather than a combination of lucky circumstances, had brought the desired result about. "Of course, I've worked it out to that. And the thing now is--what's the best line to take? What would you suggest, Dave?" Myler brought all his business acumen to bear on the problem presented to him. "What sort of chap is this Tallington?" he asked at last, pointing to the name at the foot of the reward handbill. "Most respectable solicitor in Highmarket," answered Stoner, promptly. "Word good?" asked Myler. "Good as--gold," affirmed Stoner.