CHAPTER IX. THE HOUSE OF HIS FRIEND
Bryce found himself at eleven o'clock next morning in a small book-linedparlour in a little house which stood in a quiet street in theneighbourhood of Westbourne Grove. Over the mantelpiece, amongst otherodds and ends of pictures and photographs, hung a water-colour drawingof Braden Medworth--and to him presently entered an old, silver-hairedclergyman whom he at once took to be Braden Medworth's former vicar,and who glanced inquisitively at his visitor and then at the card whichBryce had sent in with a request for an interview.
"Dr. Bryce?" he said inquiringly. "Dr. Pemberton Bryce?"
Bryce made his best bow and assumed his suavest and most ingratiatingmanner.
"I hope I am not intruding on your time, Mr. Gilwaters?" he said. "Thefact is, I was referred to you, yesterday, by the present vicar ofBraden Medworth--both he, and the sexton there, Claybourne, whom you, ofcourse, remember, thought you would be able to give me some informationon a subject which is of great importance--to me."
"I don't know the present vicar," remarked Mr. Gilwaters, motioningBryce to a chair, and taking another close by. "Clayborne, of course,I remember very well indeed--he must be getting an old man now--likemyself! What is it you want to know, now?"
"I shall have to take you into my confidence," replied Bryce, who hadcarefully laid his plans and prepared his story, "and you, I am sure,Mr. Gilwaters, will respect mine. I have for two years been in practiceat Wrychester, and have there made the acquaintance of a young lady whomI earnestly desire to marry. She is the ward of the man to whom I havebeen assistant. And I think you will begin to see why I have come to youwhen I say that this young lady's name is--Mary Bewery."
The old clergyman started, and looked at his visitor with unusualinterest. He grasped the arm of his elbow chair and leaned forward.
"Mary Bewery!" he said in a low whisper. "What--what is the name of theman who is her--guardian?"
"Dr. Mark Ransford," answered Bryce promptly.
The old man sat upright again, with a little toss of his head.
"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "Mark Ransford! Then--it must have beenas I feared--and suspected!"
Bryce made no remark. He knew at once that he had struck on something,and it was his method to let people take their own time. Mr. Gilwatershad already fallen into something closely resembling a reverie: Brycesat silently waiting and expectant. And at last the old man leanedforward again, almost eagerly.
"What is it you want to know?" he asked, repeating his first question."Is--is there some--some mystery?"
"Yes!" replied Bryce. "A mystery that I want to solve, sir. And I daresay that you can help me, if you'll be so good. I am convinced--in fact,I know!--that this young lady is in ignorance of her parentage, thatRansford is keeping some fact, some truth back from her--and I want tofind things out. By the merest chance--accident, in fact--I discoveredyesterday at Braden Medworth that some twenty-two years ago you marriedone Mary Bewery, who, I learnt there, was your governess, to a JohnBrake, and that Mark Ransford was John Brake's best man and a witnessof the marriage. Now, Mr. Gilwaters, the similarity in names is toostriking to be devoid of significance. So--it's of the utmost importanceto me!--can or will you tell me--who was the Mary Bewery you married toJohn Brake? Who was John Brake? And what was Mark Ransford to either, orto both?"
He was wondering, all the time during which he reeled off thesequestions, if Mr. Gilwaters was wholly ignorant of the recent affairat Wrychester. He might be--a glance round his book-filled room hadsuggested to Bryce that he was much more likely to be a bookworm than anewspaper reader, and it was quite possible that the events of the dayhad small interest for him. And his first words in reply to Bryce'squestions convinced Bryce that his surmise was correct and that theold man had read nothing of the Wrychester Paradise mystery, in whichRansford's name had, of course, figured as a witness at the inquest.
"It is nearly twenty years since I heard any of their names," remarkedMr. Gilwaters. "Nearly twenty years--a long time! But, of course, I cananswer you. Mary Bewery was our governess at Braden Medworth. She cameto us when she was nineteen--she was married four years later. She was agirl who had no friends or relatives--she had been educated at a schoolin the North--I engaged her from that school, where, I understood, shehad lived since infancy. Now then, as to Brake and Ransford. They weretwo young men from London, who used to come fishing in Leicestershire.Ransford was a few years the younger--he was either a medical student inhis last year, or he was an assistant somewhere in London. Brake--was abank manager in London--of a branch of one of the big banks. Theywere pleasant young fellows, and I used to ask them to the vicarage.Eventually, Mary Bewery and John Brake became engaged to be married. Mywife and I were a good deal surprised--we had believed, somehow, thatthe favoured man would be Ransford. However, it was Brake--and Brake shemarried, and, as you say, Ransford was best man. Of course, Brake tookhis wife off to London--and from the day of her wedding, I never saw heragain."
"Did you ever see Brake again?" asked Bryce. The old clergyman shook hishead.
"Yes!" he said sadly. "I did see Brake again--under grievous, grievouscircumstances!"
"You won't mind telling me what circumstances?" suggested Bryce. "I willkeep your confidence, Mr. Gilwaters."
"There is really no secret in it--if it comes to that," answered the oldman. "I saw John Brake again just once. In a prison cell!"
"A prison cell!" exclaimed Bryce. "And he--a prisoner?"
"He had just been sentenced to ten years' penal servitude," replied Mr.Gilwaters. "I had heard the sentence--I was present. I got leave to seehim. Ten years' penal servitude!--a terrible punishment. He must havebeen released long ago--but I never heard more."
Bryce reflected in silence for a moment--reckoning and calculating.
"When was this--the trial?" he asked.
"It was five years after the marriage--seventeen years ago," replied Mr.Gilwaters.
"And--what had he been doing?" inquired Bryce.
"Stealing the bank's money," answered the old man. "I forget what thetechnical offence was--embezzlement, or something of that sort. Therewas not much evidence came out, for it was impossible to offer anydefence, and he pleaded guilty. But I gathered from what I heard thatsomething of this sort occurred. Brake was a branch manager. He was, asit were, pounced upon one morning by an inspector, who found that hiscash was short by two or three thousand pounds. The bank people seemedto have been unusually strict and even severe--Brake, it was said, hadsome explanation, but it was swept aside and he was given in charge. Andthe sentence was as I said just now--a very savage one, I thought.But there had recently been some bad cases of that sort in the bankingworld, and I suppose the judge felt that he must make an example. Yes--amost trying affair!--I have a report of the case somewhere, which I cutout of a London newspaper at the time."
Mr. Gilwaters rose and turned to an old desk in the corner of hisroom, and after some rummaging of papers in a drawer, produced anewspaper-cutting book and traced an insertion in its pages. He handedthe book to his visitor.
"There is the account," he said. "You can read it for yourself. You willnotice that in what Brake's counsel said on his behalf there are one ortwo curious and mysterious hints as to what might have been said if ithad been of any use or advantage to say it. A strange case!"
Bryce turned eagerly to the faded scrap of newspaper.
BANK MANAGER'S DEFALCATION.
At the Central Criminal Court yesterday, John Brake, thirty-three, formerly manager of the Upper Tooting branch of the London & Home Counties Bank, Ltd., pleaded guilty to embezzling certain sums, the property of his employers.
Mr. Walkinshaw, Q.C., addressing the court on behalf of the prisoner, said that while it was impossible for his client to offer any defence, there were circumstances in the case which, if it had been worth while to put them in evidence, would have shown that the prisoner was a wronged and deceived man. To use a Scriptural phrase, Brake had
been wounded in the house of his friend. The man who was really guilty in this affair had cleverly escaped all consequences, nor would it be of the least use to enter into any details respecting him. Not one penny of the money in question had been used by the prisoner for his own purposes. It was doubtless a wrong and improper thing that his client had done, and he had pleaded guilty and would submit to the consequences. But if everything in connection with the case could have been told, if it would have served any useful purpose to tell it, it would have been seen that what the prisoner really was guilty of was a foolish and serious error of judgment. He himself, concluded the learned counsel, would go so far as to say that, knowing what he did, knowing what had been told him by his client in strict confidence, the prisoner, though technically guilty, was morally innocent.
His Lordship, merely remarking that no excuse of any sort could be offered in a case of this sort, sentenced the prisoner to ten years' penal servitude.
Bryce read this over twice before handing back the book.
"Very strange and mysterious, Mr. Gilwaters," he remarked. "You say thatyou saw Brake after the case was over. Did you learn anything?"
"Nothing whatever!" answered the old clergyman. "I got permission to seehim before he was taken away. He did not seem particularly pleased ordisposed to see me. I begged him to tell me what the real truth was. Hewas, I think, somewhat dazed by the sentence--but he was also sullenand morose. I asked him where his wife and two children--one, a mereinfant--were. For I had already been to his private address andhad found that Mrs. Brake had sold all the furniture anddisappeared--completely. No one--thereabouts, at any rate--knew whereshe was, or would tell me anything. On my asking this, he refused toanswer. I pressed him--he said finally that he was only speaking thetruth when he replied that he did not know where his wife was. I said Imust find her. He forbade me to make any attempt. Then I begged himto tell me if she was with friends. I remember very well what hereplied.--'I'm not going to say one word more to any man living,Mr. Gilwaters,' he answered determinedly. 'I shall be dead to theworld--only because I've been a trusting fool!--for ten years orthereabouts, but, when I come back to it, I'll let the world see whatrevenge means! Go away!' he concluded. 'I won't say one word more.'And--I left him."
"And--you made no more inquiries?--about the wife?" asked Bryce.
"I did what I could," replied Mr. Gilwaters. "I made some inquiry inthe neighbourhood in which they had lived. All I could discover wasthat Mrs. Brake had disappeared under extraordinarily mysteriouscircumstances. There was no trace whatever of her. And I speedily foundthat things were being said--the usual cruel suspicions, you know."
"Such as--what?" asked Bryce.
"That the amount of the defalcations was much larger than had beenallowed to appear," replied Mr. Gilwaters. "That Brake was a very cleverrogue who had got the money safely planted somewhere abroad, and thathis wife had gone off somewhere--Australia, or Canada, or some otherfar-off region--to await his release. Of course, I didn't believeone word of all that. But there was the fact--she had vanished! Andeventually, I thought of Ransford, as having been Brake's great friend,so I tried to find him. And then I found that he, too, who up tothat time had been practising in a London suburb--Streatham--had alsodisappeared. Just after Brake's arrest, Ransford had suddenly sold hispractice and gone--no one knew where, but it was believed--abroad. Icouldn't trace him, anyway. And soon after that I had a long illness,and for two or three years was an invalid, and--well, the thing was overand done with, and, as I said just now, I have never heard anything ofany of them for all these years. And now!--now you tell me that thereis a Mary Bewery who is a ward of a Dr. Mark Ransford at--where did yousay?"
"At Wrychester," answered Bryce. "She is a young woman of twenty, andshe has a brother, Richard, who is between seventeen and eighteen."
"Without a doubt those are Brake's children!" exclaimed the old man."The infant I spoke of was a boy. Bless me!--how extraordinary. How longhave they been at Wrychester?"
"Ransford has been in practice there some years--a few years," repliedBryce. "These two young people joined him there definitely two yearsago. But from what I have learnt, he has acted as their guardian eversince they were mere children."
"And--their mother?" asked Mr. Gilwaters.
"Said to be dead--long since," answered Bryce. "And their father,too. They know nothing. Ransford won't tell them anything. But, as yousay--I've no doubt of it myself now--they must be the children of JohnBrake."
"And have taken the name of their mother!" remarked the old man.
"Had it given to them," said Bryce. "They don't know that it isn'ttheir real name. Of course, Ransford has given it to them! But now--themother?"
"Ah, yes, the mother!" said Mr. Gilwaters. "Our old governess! Dear me!"
"I'm going to put a question to you," continued Bryce, leaning nearerand speaking in a low, confidential tone. "You must have seen much ofthe world, Mr. Gilwaters--men of your profession know the world, andhuman nature, too. Call to mind all the mysterious circumstances, theveiled hints, of that trial. Do you think--have you ever thought--thatthe false friend whom the counsel referred to was--Ransford? Come, now!"
The old clergyman lifted his hands and let them fall on his knees.
"I do not know what to say!" he exclaimed. "To tell you the truth, Ihave often wondered if--if that was what really did happen. There is thefact that Brake's wife disappeared mysteriously--that Ransford made asimilar mysterious disappearance about the same time--that Brake wasobviously suffering from intense and bitter hatred when I saw him afterthe trial--hatred of some person on whom he meant to be revenged--andthat his counsel hinted that he had been deceived and betrayed bya friend. Now, to my knowledge, he and Ransford were the closest offriends--in the old days, before Brake married our governess. And Isuppose the friendship continued--certainly Ransford acted as best manat the wedding! But how account for that strange double disappearance?"
Bryce had already accounted for that, in his own secret mind. And now,having got all that he wanted out of the old clergyman, he rose to takehis leave.
"You will regard this interview as having been of a strictly privatenature, Mr. Gilwaters?" he said.
"Certainly!" responded the old man. "But--you mentioned that you wishedto marry the daughter? Now that you know about her father's past--for Iam sure she must be John Brake's child--you won't allow that to--eh?"
"Not for a moment!" answered Bryce, with a fair show of magnanimity."I am not a man of that complexion, sir. No!--I only wished to clear upcertain things, you understand."
"And--since she is apparently--from what you say--in ignorance of herreal father's past--what then?" asked Mr. Gilwaters anxiously. "Shallyou--"
"I shall do nothing whatever in any haste," replied Bryce. "Rely upon meto consider her feelings in everything. As you have been so kind, I willlet you know, later, how matters go."
This was one of Pemberton Bryce's ready inventions. He had not the leastintention of ever seeing or communicating with the late vicar of BradenMedworth again; Mr. Gilwaters had served his purpose for the time being.He went away from Bayswater, and, an hour later, from London, highlysatisfied. In his opinion, Mark Ransford, seventeen years before, hadtaken advantage of his friend's misfortunes to run away with his wife,and when Brake, alias Braden, had unexpectedly turned up at Wrychester,he had added to his former wrong by the commission of a far greater one.
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