ething noticeable about him, he decided. A wiry, alert,
keen-eyed man, with good, somewhat gipsy-like features, much tanned by
the weather, as if he were perpetually exposed to sun and wind, rain and
hail; sharp of movement, evidently of more than ordinary intelligence,
and, in spite of his rough garments and fur cap, having an indefinable
air of gentility and breeding about him. Brereton had already noticed
the pitch and inflection of his voice; now, as Harborough touched his
cap to the Mayor, he noticed that his hands, though coarsened and
weather-browned, were well-shaped and delicate. Something about him,
something in his attitude, the glance of his eye, seemed to indicate
that he was the social superior of the policemen, uniformed or
plain-clothed, who were watching him with speculative and slightly
puzzled looks.

"Well, and what's all this, now?" said Mallalieu coming to a halt and
looking round. "What's he got to say, like?"

The superintendent looked at Harborough and nodded. And Harborough took
that nod at its true meaning, and he spoke--readily.

"This!" he said, turning to the new-comers, and finally addressing
himself to Mallalieu. "And it's what I've already said to the
superintendent here. I know nothing about what's happened to Kitely. I
know no more of his murder than you do--not so much, I should say--for I
know naught at all beyond what I've been told. I left my house at eight
o'clock last night--I've been away all night--I got back at six o'clock
this morning. As soon as I heard what was afoot, I came straight here. I
put it to you, Mr. Mayor--if I'd killed this old man, do you think I'd
have come back? Is it likely?"

"You might ha' done, you know," answered Mallalieu. "There's no
accounting for what folks will do--in such cases. But--what else? Say
aught you like--it's all informal, this."

"Very well," continued Harborough. "They tell me the old man was
strangled by a piece of cord that was evidently cut off one of my coils.
Now, is there any man in his common senses would believe that if I did
that job, I should leave such a bit of clear evidence behind me? I'm not
a fool!"

"You might ha' been interrupted before you could take that cord off his
neck," suggested Mallalieu.

"Aye--but you'd have to reckon up the average chances of that!"
exclaimed Harborough, with a sharp glance at the bystanders. "And the
chances are in my favour. No, sir!--whoever did this job, cut that
length of cord o