"You saw Mallalieu fell Stoner? Yourself?"
"With these eyes! Look here!" exclaimed Cotherstone, again bringing his hand down heavily on the desk. "I went up there by Hobwick Quarry on Sunday afternoon--to do a bit of thinking. As I got to that spinney at the edge of the quarry, I saw Mallalieu and our clerk. They were fratching--quarrelling--I could hear 'em as well as see 'em. And I slipped behind a big bush and waited and watched. I could see and hear, even at thirty yards off, that Stoner was maddening Mallalieu, though of course I couldn't distinguish precise words. And all of a sudden Mallalieu's temper went, and he lets out with that heavy oak stick of his and fetches the lad a crack right over his forehead--and with Stoner starting suddenly back the old railings gave way and--down he went. That's what I saw--and I saw Mallalieu kick that stick into the quarry in a passion, and--I've got it!"
"I've got it!" repeated Cotherstone. "I watched Mallalieu--after this was over. Once I thought he saw me--but he evidently decided he was alone. I could see he was taking on rarely. He went down to the quarry as it got dusk--he was there some time. Then at last he went away on the opposite side. And I went down when he'd got clear away and I went straight to where the stick was. And as I say, I've got it."
Tallington looked at Brereton, and Brereton spoke for the first time.
"Mr. Cotherstone must see that all this should be told to the police," he said.
"Wait a bit," replied Cotherstone. "I've not done telling my tales here yet. Now that I am talking, I will talk! Bent!" he continued, turning to his future son-in-law. "What I'm going to say now is for your benefit. But these lawyers shall hear. This old Wilchester business has been raked up--how, I don't know. Now then, you shall all know the truth about that! I did two years--for what? For being Mallalieu's catspaw!"
Tallington suddenly began to drum his fingers on the blotting-pad which lay in front of him. From this point he watched Cotherstone with an appearance of speculative interest which was not lost on Brereton.
"Ah!" he remarked quietly. "You were Mallalieu's--or Mallows'--catspaw? That is--he was the really guilty party in the Wilchester affair, of Which that's an account?"