"Well?" responded Mallalieu.
Cotherstone began to fidget with some account books and papers that he had brought from his house. He eyed his partner with furtive glances; Mallalieu eyed him with steady and watchful ones.
"I suppose you've heard all about it?" said Cotherstone, after an awkward silence.
"Aye!" replied Mallalieu, drily. "Aye, I've heard."
Cotherstone looked round. There was no one near him, but he dropped his voice to a whisper.
"So long as nobody but him knew," he muttered, giving Mallalieu another side glance, "so long as he hadn't said aught to anybody—and I don't think he had—we're—safe."
Mallalieu was still staring quietly at Cotherstone. And Cotherstone began to grow restless under that steady, questioning look.
"Oh?" observed Mallalieu, at last. "Aye? You think so? Ah!"
"Good God—don't you!" exclaimed Cotherstone, roused to a sudden anger. "Why——"
But just then a policeman came out of the High Street into the yard, caught sight of the two partners, and came over to them, touching his helmet.