nce to ask his daughter's hand, and what was more,
ran off with her and they were married, which increased Patterson's
hatred of us both almost to insanity."

"Hmm. I see," said Cleek. "Who is George?"

"My stepson, Mr. Headland--unfortunately for me--my late wife's boy by
her first marriage. I have to admit it regretfully enough, he was the
cause of his mother's death. He literally broke her heart by his wild
living, and I was only too glad to give him a small allowance--which
however helped him with his unhappy marriage--and hoped to see the last
of George Barrington."

Cleek twitched up an inquiring eyebrow.

"Unhappy, Mr. Brent?" he queried. "But I understood from you a moment
ago it was a love match."

"In the beginning it was purely a question of love, Mr. Headland,"
responded the manager gravely. "But as you know, when poverty comes in
at the door, love sometimes flies out of the window, and from all
accounts, the late Miss Patterson never ceases to regret the day she
became Mrs. George Barrington. George has been hanging about here this
last week or two, and I noticed him trying to renew acquaintance with
old Simmons only a day or two ago in the bar of the Rose and Anchor.
He--he was also seen prowling round the bank on Tuesday night. So now
you know why I was loath to set the ball rolling; old man Patterson
would lift the sky to get the chance to have that young waster
imprisoned, to say nothing of defaming my personal character at the same
time.

"Sooner than that I must endeavour to raise sufficient money by private
means to replace the notes--but the death of old Simmons is, of course,
another matter. His murderer must and shall be brought to justice, while
I have a penny piece in my pocket."

His voice broke suddenly into a harsh sob, and for a moment his hands
covered his face. Then he shook himself free of his emotion.

"We will all do our best on that score, Mr. Brent," said Mr. Narkom,
after a somewhat lengthy silence. "It is a most unfortunate tragedy
indeed, almost a dual one, one might say, but I think you can safely
trust yourself in our hands, eh, Headland?"

Cleek bowed his head, while Mr. Brent smiled appreciation of the
Superintendent's kindly sympathy.

"I know I can," he said warmly. "Believe me, Mr. Narkom, and you, too,
Mr. Headland, I am perfectly content to leave myself with you. But I
have my suspicions, and strong ones they are too, and I would not mind
laying a bet that Pat