He had said to Bent all that was in his mind about Harborough and about Miss Pett--but he had said nothing, had been determined to say nothing, about a curious thought, an unformed, vague suspicion which was there.

It was that as yet formless suspicion which occupied all his mental powers now--he put Harborough and Miss Pett clean away from him.
And as he sat there, he asked himself first of all--why had this curious doubt about two apparently highly-respectable men of this little, out-of-the-world town come into his mind?
He traced it back to its first source--Cotherstone.

Brereton was a close observer of men; it was his natural instinct to observe, and he was always giving it a further training and development.

He had felt certain as he sat at supper with him, the night before, that Cotherstone had something in his thoughts which was not of his guests, his daughter, or himself.

His whole behaviour suggested pre-occupation, occasional absent-mindedness: once or twice he obviously did not hear the remarks which were addressed to him.