eed Brent. "Show the way!"

Peppermore led him down the narrow entry, across the market-place, and
into an equally narrow passage that opened between two shops near High
Cross. There Brent found himself confronted by what seemed to be a high,
blank, doorless and windowless wall; Peppermore perceived his
astonishment and laughed.

"Some queer, odd nooks and corners in Hathelsborough, Mr. Brent!" he
said knowingly. "It would take a stranger a long time to find out all
the twists and turns in this old town. But everybody knows the way to
Bull's Snug--and here we are!"

He suddenly made a sharp turn to the right and into another passage,
where he pushed open a door, steered his companion by the elbow through
a dark entry, and thrusting aside a heavy curtain ushered him into as
queer a place as Brent had ever seen. It was a big, roomy apartment,
lavishly ornamented with old sporting prints and trophies of the rustic
chase; its light came from the top through a skylight of coloured glass;
its floor was sawdusted; there were shadowy nooks and recesses in it,
and on one side ran a bar, presided over by two hefty men in their
shirt-sleeves. And here, about the bar, and in knots up and down the
room and at the little tables in the corners, was a noontide assemblage,
every man with a glass in his hand or at his elbow. Peppermore drew
Brent into a vacant alcove and gave him a significant glance.

"I guess there isn't a man in this room, Mr. Brent, that hasn't got his
own theory about what happened last night," he murmured. "I don't
suppose any of 'em know you--they're not the sort of men you'd meet
when you were here before--these are all chiefly tradesmen, betting men,
sportsmen, and so on. But as I say, if you want the gossip of the town,
here's the place! There never was a rumour in Hathelsborough but it was
known and canvassed and debated and improved upon in Bull's, within an
hour. Every scandalmonger and talebearer comes here--and here's," he
continued, suddenly dropping his voice to a whisper, "one of the biggest
of 'em--watch him, and listen to him, if he comes near us. That tall,
thin man, in the grey suit, the man with the grizzled moustache. Listen,
Mr. Brent; I'll tell you who that chap is, for he's one of the queerest
and at the same time most interesting characters in the town. That, sir,
is Krevin Crood, the ne'er-do-weel brother of Mr. Alderman Crood--watch
him!"

CHAPTER V

SLEEPING FIRES

Already