Kitely had come to him, one day about three months previously, told him that he had come to these parts for a bit of a holiday, taken a fancy to a cottage which he, Cotherstone, had to let, and inquired its rent.

He had mentioned, casually, that he had just retired from business, and wanted a quiet place wherein to spend the rest of his days.

He had taken the cottage, and given his landlord satisfactory references as to his ability to pay the rent--and Cotherstone, always a busy man, had thought no more about him.

Certainly he had never anticipated such an announcement as that which Kitely had just made to him--never dreamed that Kitely had recognized him and Mallalieu as men he had known thirty years ago.
It had been Cotherstone's life-long endeavour to forget all about the event of thirty years ago, and to a large extent he had succeeded in dulling his memory.

But Kitely had brought it all back--and now everything was fresh to him.