interested in the Crood family because of what he had seen of
Simon Crood and his niece on the previous evening, Brent looked closely
at the man whom Peppermore pointed out. There was no resemblance in him
to his brother, the Alderman. He was a tall, spare, fresh-coloured man,
apparently about fifty years of age, well-bred of feature, carefully
groomed; something in his erect carriage, slightly swaggering air and
defiant eye suggested the military man. Closer inspection showed Brent
that the grey tweed suit, though clean and scrupulously pressed, was
much worn, that the brilliantly polished shoes were patched, that the
linen, freshly-laundered though it was, was far from new--everything,
indeed, about Krevin Crood, suggested a well-kept man of former
grandeur.

"Decayed old swell--that's what he looks like, eh, Mr. Brent?" whispered
Peppermore, following his companion's thoughts. "Ah, they say that once
upon a time Krevin Crood was the biggest buck in Hathelsborough--used to
drive his horses and ride his horses, and all the rest of it. And
now--come down to that."

He winked significantly as he glanced across the room, and Brent knew
what he meant. Krevin Crood, lofty and even haughty in manner as he was,
had lounged near the bar and stood looking around him, nodding here and
there as he met the eye of an acquaintance.

"Waiting till somebody asks him to drink," muttered Peppermore. "Regular
sponge, he is! And once used to crack his bottle of champagne with the
best!"

"What's the story?" asked Brent, still quietly watching the subject of
Peppermore's remarks.

"Oh, the old one," said Peppermore. "Krevin Crood was once a solicitor,
and Town Clerk, and, as I say, the biggest swell in the place. Making
his couple of thousand a year, I should think. Come down in the usual
fashion--drink, gambling, extravagance and so on. And in the end they
had to get rid of him--as Magistrates' Clerk, I mean: it was impossible
to keep him on any longer. He'd frittered away his solicitor's practice
too by that time, and come to the end of his resources. But Simon was
already a powerful man in the town, so they--he and some others--cooked
things nicely for Krevin. Krevin Crood, Mr. Brent, is one of the
Hathelsborough abuses that your poor cousin meant to rid the ratepayers
of--fact, sir!"

"How?" asked Brent.

"Well," continued Peppermore, "I said that Simon and some others cooked
things for him. Instead of dismissing Krevin for in