"Only just," replied Cotherstone. "But he was dead--and I saw what had caused his death, for I struck a match to look at him. I saw that empty pocket-book lying by--I saw a scrap of folded newspaper, too, and I picked it up and later, when I'd read it, I put it in a safe place--I've taken it from that place tonight for the first time, and it's here--you keep it. Well--I went on, up to the cottage. The door was open--I looked in. Yon woman, Miss Pett, was at the table by the lamp, turning over some papers--I saw Kitely's writing on some of 'em. I stepped softly in and tapped her on the arm, and she screamed and started back. I looked at her. 'Do you know that your master's lying dead, murdered, down amongst those trees?' I said. Then she pulled herself together, and she sort of got between me and the door. 'No, I don't!' she says. 'But if he is, I'm not surprised, for I've warned him many a time about going out after nightfall.' I looked hard at her. 'What're you doing with his papers there?' I says. 'Papers!' she says. 'They're naught but old bills and things that he gave me to sort.' 'That's a lie!' I says, 'those aren't bills and I believe you know something about this, and I'm off for the police--to tell!' Then she pushed the door to behind her and folded her arms and looked at me. 'You tell a word,' she says, 'and I'll tell it all over the town that you and your partner's a couple of ex-convicts! I know your tale--Kitely'd no secrets from me. You stir a step to tell anybody, and I'll begin by going straight to young Bent--and I'll not stop at that, neither.' So you see where I was--I was frightened to death of that old affair getting out, and I knew then that Kitely was a liar and had told this old woman all about it, and--well, I hesitated. And she saw that she had me, and she went on, 'You hold your tongue, and I'll hold mine!' she says. 'Nobody'll accuse me, I know--but if you speak one word, I'll denounce you! You and your partner are much more likely to have killed Kitely than I am!' Well, I still stood, hesitating. 'What's to be done?' I asked at last. 'Do naught,' she said. 'Go home, like a wise man, and know naught about it. Let him be found--and say naught. But if you do, you know what to expect.' 'Not a word that I came in here, then?' I said at last. 'Nobody'll get no words from me beyond what I choose to give 'em', she says. 'And--silence about the other?' I said. 'Just as long as you're silent,' she says. And with that I walked out--and I set off towards home by another way. And just as I was leaving the wood to turn into the path that leads into our lane I heard a man coming along and I shrank into some shrubs and watched for him till he came close up. He passed me and went on to the cottage--and I slipped back then and looked in through the window, and there he was, and they were both whispering together at the table. And it--was this woman's nephew--Pett, the lawyer."