then, this young man, my
informant, has some relations here in Hathelsborough; a day or so before
Simon Crood called with his machine, they sent him--the young man--a
copy of the _Monitor_ with this facsimile letter enclosed. Being
concerned with such things in his trade, he was naturally interested in
the facsimile, and of course, as an expert, he noticed the broken
letters. However, he didn't connect the facsimile with Crood's machine
at first. But, happening to look at that machine more narrowly, to see
exactly what had to be done to it, he--as he phrased it--ran off the
keys on a sheet of paper, and he then saw at once that he had before him
the identical machine on which the threatening letter to our late Mayor
had been typed! And so he came to me!"

"What have you done about it?" asked Brent.

Hawthwaite gave him a knowing look.

"Well, I'll tell you that too," he answered. "I've got the machine! It's
there--in that box in the corner. The Clothford firm will make an excuse
to Mr. Crood that they've had to send this machine away for repairs--eh?
Of course I'm not going to let it out of my possession until--well,
until we know more."

"There's no doubt he wrote that threatening letter," observed Brent.

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt whatever," agreed Hawthwaite.

"What about that handkerchief and the inquiry at the laundry?" asked
Brent.

Hawthwaite accompanied his reply with a nod and a wink.

"That's being followed up," he said. "Don't ask me any more now; we're
progressing, and, I believe, in the right direction this time. Do you
leave it to us, Mr. Brent; you'll be surprised before long and so will
some other folks. You go on with those articles you've started in the
_Monitor_. It doesn't do for me to say much, being an official," he
added, with another wink, "but you'll do some good in that way--there's
a lot under the surface in this old town, sir, that only needs exposing
to the light of day to ensure destruction! Public opinion, Mr. Brent,
public opinion! You stir it up, and leave this matter to me; I may be
slow, Mr. Brent, but I'll surely get there in the end!"

"Good! It's all I ask," said Brent. "Only get there!"

He took Queenie away, but before they had gone many steps from the
superintendent's office Hawthwaite called Brent back, and leading him
inside the room closed the door on him.

"Your young lady'll not mind waiting a minute or two," he said, with a
significant glance. "As she already kn