CHAPTER XI. THE BACK ROOM
In the midst of all her perplexity at that moment, Mary Bewery wascertain of one fact about which she had no perplexity nor any doubt--itwould not be long before the rumours of which Bryce and Mr. Folliot hadspoken. Although she had only lived in Wrychester a comparatively shorttime she had seen and learned enough of it to know that the place was ahotbed of gossip. Once gossip was started there, it spread, widening incircle after circle. And though Bryce was probably right when he saidthat the person chiefly concerned was usually the last person to hearwhat was being whispered, she knew well enough that sooner or later thistalk about Ransford would come to Ransford's own ears. But she had noidea that it was to come so soon, nor from her own brother.
Lunch in the Ransford menage was an informal meal. At a quarter past oneevery day, it was on the table--a cold lunch to which the three membersof the household helped themselves as they liked, independent of theservices of servants. Sometimes all three were there at the same moment;sometimes Ransford was half an hour late; the one member who was alwaysthere to the moment was Dick Bewery, who fortified himself sedulouslyafter his morning's school labours. On this particular day all three metin the dining-room at once, and sat down together. And before Dick hadeaten many mouthfuls of a cold pie to which he had just liberally helpedhimself he bent confidentially across the table towards his guardian.
"There's something I think you ought to be told about, sir," he remarkedwith a side-glance at Mary. "Something I heard this morning at school.You know, we've a lot of fellows--town boys--who talk."
"I daresay," responded Ransford dryly. "Following the example of theirmothers, no doubt. Well--what is it?"
He, too, glanced at Mary--and the girl had her work set to lookunconscious.
"It's this," replied Dick, lowering his voice in spite of the factthat all three were alone. "They're saying in the town that you knowsomething which you won't tell about that affair last week. It's beingtalked of."
Ransford laughed--a little cynically.
"Are you quite sure, my boy, that they aren't saying that I daren'ttell?" he asked. "Daren't is a much more likely word than won't, Ithink."
"Well--about that, sir," acknowledged Dick. "Comes to that, anyhow."
"And what are their grounds?" inquired Ransford. "You've heard them,I'll be bound!"
"They say that man--Braden--had been here--here, to the house!--thatmorning, not long before he was found dead," answered Dick. "Of course,I said that was all bosh!--I said that if he'd been here and seen you,I'd have heard of it, dead certain."
"That's not quite so dead certain, Dick, as that I have no knowledge ofhis ever having been here," said Ransford. "But who says he came here?"
"Mrs. Deramore," replied Dick promptly. "She says she saw him goaway from the house and across the Close, a little before ten. So JimDeramore says, anyway--and he says his mother's eyes are as good asanother's."
"Doubtless!" assented Ransford. He looked at Mary again, and saw thatshe was keeping hers fixed on her plate. "Well," he continued, "if itwill give you any satisfaction, Dick, you can tell the gossips that Dr.Ransford never saw any man, Braden or anybody else, at his house thatmorning, and that he never exchanged a word with Braden. So much forthat! But," he added, "you needn't expect them to believe you. I knowthese people--if they've got an idea into their heads they'll ride it todeath. Nevertheless, what I say is a fact."
Dick presently went off--and once more Ransford looked at Mary. And thistime, Mary had to meet her guardian's inquiring glance.
"Have you heard anything of this?" he asked.
"That there was a rumour--yes," she replied without hesitation."But--not until just now--this morning."
"Who told you of it?" inquired Ransford.
Mary hesitated. Then she remembered that Mr. Folliot, at any rate, hadnot bound her to secrecy.
"Mr. Folliot," she replied. "He called me into his garden, to give methose roses, and he mentioned that Mrs. Deramore had said these thingsto Mrs. Folliot, and as he seemed to think it highly probable that Mrs.Folliot would repeat them, he told me because he didn't want you tothink that the rumour had originally arisen at his house."
"Very good of him, I'm sure," remarked Ransford dryly. "They all like toshift the blame from one to another! But," he added, looking searchinglyat her, "you don't know anything about--Braden's having come here?"
He saw at once that she did, and Mary saw a slight shade of anxiety comeover his face.
"Yes, I do!" she replied. "That morning. But--it was told to me, onlytoday, in strict confidence."
"In strict confidence!" he repeated. "May I know--by whom?"
"Dr. Bryce," she answered. "I met him this morning. And I think youought to know. Only--it was in confidence." She paused for a moment,looking at him, and her face grew troubled. "I hate to suggest it,"she continued, "but--will you come with me to see him, and I'llask him--things being as they are--to tell you what he told me. Ican't--without his permission."
Ransford shook his head and frowned.
"I dislike it!" he said. "It's--it's putting ourselves in his power,as it were. But--I'm not going to be left in the dark. Put on your hat,then."
Bryce, ever since his coming to Wrychester, had occupied rooms in anold house in Friary Lane, at the back of the Close. He was comfortablylodged. Downstairs he had a double sitting-room, extending from thefront to the back of the house; his front window looked out on onegarden, his back window on another. He had just finished lunch in thefront part of his room, and was looking out of his window, wonderingwhat to do with himself that afternoon, when he saw Ransford and MaryBewery approaching. He guessed the reason of their visit at once,and went straight to the front door to meet them, and without a wordmotioned them to follow him into his own quarters. It was characteristicof him that he took the first word--before either of his visitors couldspeak.
"I know why you've come," he said, as he closed the door and glanced atMary. "You either want my permission that you should tell Dr. Ransfordwhat I told you this morning, or, you want me to tell him myself. Am Iright?"
"I should be glad if you would tell him," replied Mary. "The rumour youspoke of has reached him--he ought to know what you can tell. I haverespected your confidence, so far."
The two men looked at each other. And this time it was Ransford whospoke first.
"It seems to me," he said, "that there is no great reason for privacy.If rumours are flying about in Wrychester, there is an end of privacy.Dick tells me they are saying at the school that it is known thatBraden called on me at my house shortly before he was found dead. I knownothing whatever of any such call! But--I left you in my surgery thatmorning. Do you know if he came there?"
"Yes!" answered Bryce. "He did come. Soon after you'd gone out."
"Why did you keep that secret?" demanded Ransford. "You could have toldit to the police--or to the Coroner--or to me. Why didn't you?"
Before Bryce could answer, all three heard a sharp click of the frontgarden gate, and looking round, saw Mitchington coming up the walk.
"Here's one of the police, now," said Bryce calmly. "Probably come toextract information. I would much rather he didn't see you here--but I'dalso like you to hear what I shall say to him. Step inside there," hecontinued, drawing aside the curtains which shut off the back room."Don't stick at trifles!--you don't know what may be afoot."
He almost forced them away, drew the curtains again, and hurrying to thefront door, returned almost immediately with Mitchington.
"Hope I'm not disturbing you, doctor," said the inspector, as Brycebrought him in and again closed the door. "Not? All right, then--I cameround to ask you a question. There's a queer rumour getting out in thetown, about that affair last week. Seems to have sprung from some ofthose old dowagers in the Close."
"Of course!" said Bryce. He was mixing a whisky-and-soda for his caller,and his laugh mingled with the splash of the siphon. "Of course! I'veheard it."
"You've heard?" remarked
Mitchington. "Um! Good health, sir!--heard, ofcourse, that--"
"That Braden called on Dr. Ransford not long before the accident, ormurder, or whatever it was, happened," said Bryce. "That's it--eh?"
"Something of that sort," agreed Mitchington. "It's being said, anyway,that Braden was at Ransford's house, and presumably saw him, and thatRansford, accordingly, knows something about him which he hasn't told.Now--what do you know? Do you know if Ransford and Braden did meet thatmorning?"
"Not at Ransford's house, anyway," answered Bryce promptly. "I can provethat. But since this rumour has got out, I'll tell you what I do know,and what the truth is. Braden did come to Ransford's--not to the house,but to the surgery. He didn't see Ransford--Ransford had gone out,across the Close. Braden saw--me!"
"Bless me!--I didn't know that," remarked Mitchington. "You nevermentioned it."
"You'll not wonder that I didn't," said Bryce, laughing lightly, "when Itell you what the man wanted."
"What did he want, then?" asked Mitchington.
"Merely to be told where the Cathedral Library was," answered Bryce.
Ransford, watching Mary Bewery, saw her cheeks flush, and knew thatBryce was cheerfully telling lies. But Mitchington evidently had nosuspicion.
"That all?" he asked. "Just a question?"
"Just a question--that question," replied Bryce. "I pointed out theLibrary--and he walked away. I never saw him again until I was fetchedto him--dead. And I thought so little of the matter that--well, it nevereven occurred to me to mention it."
"Then--though he did call--he never saw Ransford?" asked the inspector.
"I tell you Ransford was already gone out," answered Bryce. "He saw noone but myself. Where Mrs. Deramore made her mistake--I happen to know,Mitchington, that she started this rumour--was in trying to make twoand two into five. She saw this man crossing the Close, as if fromRansford's house and she at once imagined he'd seen and been talkingwith Ransford."
"Old fool!" said Mitchington. "Of course, that's how these tales getabout. However, there's more than that in the air."
The two listeners behind the curtains glanced at each other. Ransford'sglance showed that he was already chafing at the unpleasantness of hisposition--but Mary's only betokened apprehension. And suddenly, as ifshe feared that Ransford would throw the curtains aside and walk intothe front room, she laid a hand on his arm and motioned him to bepatient--and silent.
"Oh?" said Bryce. "More in the air? About that business?"
"Just so," assented Mitchington. "To start with, that man Varner, themason, has never ceased talking. They say he's always at it--to theeffect that the verdict of the jury at the inquest was all wrong, andthat his evidence was put clean aside. He persists that he did see--whathe swore he saw."
"He'll persist in that to his dying day," said Bryce carelessly. "Ifthat's all there is--"
"It isn't," interrupted the inspector. "Not by a long chalk! ButVarner's is a direct affirmation--the other matter's a sort of uglyhint. There's a man named Collishaw, a townsman, who's been employedas a mason's labourer about the Cathedral of late. This Collishaw,it seems, was at work somewhere up in the galleries, ambulatories,or whatever they call those upper regions, on the very morning of theaffair. And the other night, being somewhat under the influence ofdrink, and talking the matter over with his mates at a tavern, he letout some dark hints that he could tell something if he liked. Of course,he was pressed to tell them--and wouldn't. Then--so my informant tellsme--he was dared to tell, and became surlily silent. That, of course,spread, and got to my ears. I've seen Collishaw."
"Well?" asked Bryce.
"I believe the man does know something," answered Mitchington. "That'sthe impression I carried away, anyhow. But--he won't speak. I chargedhim straight out with knowing something--but it was no good. I told himof what I'd heard. All he would say was that whatever he might have saidwhen he'd got a glass of beer or so too much, he wasn't going to sayanything now neither for me nor for anybody!"
"Just so!" remarked Bryce. "But--he'll be getting a glass too muchagain, some day, and then--then, perhaps he'll add to what he saidbefore. And--you'll be sure to hear of it."
"I'm not certain of that," answered Mitchington. "I made some inquiryand I find that Collishaw is usually a very sober and retiring sort ofchap--he'd been lured on to drink when he let out what he did. Besides,whether I'm right or wrong, I got the idea into my head that he'dalready been--squared!"
"Squared!" exclaimed Bryce. "Why, then, if that affair was reallymurder, he'd be liable to being charged as an accessory after the fact!"
"I warned him of that," replied Mitchington. "Yes, I warned himsolemnly."
"With no effect?" asked Bryce.
"He's a surly sort of man," said Mitchington. "The sort that takesrefuge in silence. He made no answer beyond a growl."
"You really think he knows something?" suggested Bryce. "Well--if thereis anything, it'll come out--in time."
"Oh, it'll come out!" assented Mitchington. "I'm by no means satisfiedwith that verdict of the coroner's inquiry. I believe there was foulplay--of some sort. I'm still following things up--quietly. And--I'lltell you something--between ourselves--I've made an important discovery.It's this. On the evening of Braden's arrival at the Mitre he was out,somewhere, for a whole two hours--by himself."
"I thought we learned from Mrs. Partingley that he and the other man,Dellingham, spent the evening together?" said Bryce.
"So we did--but that was not quite so," replied Mitchington. "Bradenwent out of the Mitre just before nine o'clock and he didn't returnuntil a few minutes after eleven. Now, then, where did he go?"
"I suppose you're trying to find that out?" asked Bryce, after a pause,during which the listeners heard the caller rise and make for the door.
"Of course!" replied Mitchington, with a confident laugh. "And--I shall!Keep it to yourself, doctor."
When Bryce had let the inspector out and returned to his sitting-room,Ransford and Mary had come from behind the curtains. He looked at themand shook his head.
"You heard--a good deal, you see," he observed.
"Look here!" said Ransford peremptorily. "You put that man off about thecall at my surgery. You didn't tell him the truth."
"Quite right," assented Bryce. "I didn't. Why should I?"
"What did Braden ask you?" demanded Ransford. "Come, now?"
"Merely if Dr. Ransford was in," answered Bryce, "remarking that he hadonce known a Dr. Ransford. That was--literally--all. I replied that youwere not in."
Ransford stood silently thinking for a moment or two. Then he movedtowards the door.
"I don't see that any good will come of more talk about this," he said."We three, at any rate, know this--I never saw Braden when he came to myhouse."
Then he motioned Mary to follow him, and they went away, and Bryce,having watched them out of sight, smiled at himself in his mirror--withfull satisfaction.
The Paradise Mystery Page 11