The Paradise Mystery

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER XIV. FROM THE PAST

  If any remarkably keen and able observer of the odd characteristics ofhumanity had been present in Harker's little parlour at that moment,watching him and his visitor, he would have been struck by what happenedwhen the old man put this sudden and point-blank question to the youngone. For Harker put the question, though in a whisper, in no more thana casual, almost friendlily-confidential way, and Bryce never showed bythe start of a finger or the flicker of an eyelash that he felt it to bewhat he really knew it to be--the most surprising and startling questionhe had ever had put to him. Instead, he looked his questioner calmly inthe eyes, and put a question in his turn.

  "Who are you, Mr. Harker?" asked Bryce quietly.

  Harker laughed--almost gleefully.

  "Yes, you've a right to ask that!" he said. "Of course!--glad you takeit that way. You'll do!"

  "I'll qualify it, then," added Bryce. "It's not who--it's what are you!"

  Harker waved his cigar at the book-shelves in front of which his visitorsat.

  "Take a look at my collection of literature, doctor," he said. "Whatd'ye think of it?"

  Bryce turned and leisurely inspected one shelf after another.

  "Seems to consist of little else but criminal cases and legalhandbooks," he remarked quietly. "I begin to suspect you, Mr. Harker.They say here in Wrychester that you're a retired tradesman. I thinkyou're a retired policeman--of the detective branch."

  Harker laughed again.

  "No Wrychester man has ever crossed my threshold since I came to settledown here," he said. "You're the first person I've ever asked in--withone notable exception. I've never even had Campany, the librarian, here.I'm a hermit."

  "But--you were a detective?" suggested Bryce.

  "Aye, for a good five-and-twenty years!" replied Harker. "And prettywell known, too, sir. But--my question, doctor. All between ourselves!"

  "I'll ask you one, then," said Bryce. "How do you know I took a scrap ofpaper from Braden's purse?"

  "Because I know that he had such a paper in his purse the night he cameto the Mitre," answered Harker, "and was certain to have it there nextmorning, and because I also know that you were left alone with the bodyfor some minutes after Varner fetched you to it, and that when Braden'sclothing and effects were searched by Mitchington, the paper wasn'tthere. So, of course, you took it! Doesn't matter to me that yedid--except that I know, from knowing that, that you're on a similargame to my own--which is why you went down to Leicestershire."

  "You knew Braden?" asked Bryce.

  "I knew him!" answered Harker.

  "You saw him--spoke with him--here in Wrychester?" suggested Bryce.

  "He was here--in this room--in that chair--from five minutes past nineto close on ten o'clock the night before his death," replied Harker.

  Bryce, who was quietly appreciating the Havana cigar which the old manhad given him, picked up his glass, took a drink, and settled himself inhis easy chair as if he meant to stay there awhile.

  "I think we'd better talk confidentially, Mr. Harker," he said.

  "Precisely what we are doing, Dr. Bryce," replied Harker.

  "All right, my friend," said Bryce, laconically. "Now we understand eachother. So--do you know who John Braden really was?"

  "Yes!" replied Harker, promptly. "He was in reality John Brake, ex-bankmanager, ex-convict."

  "Do you know if he's any relatives here in Wrychester?" inquired Bryce.

  "Yes," said Harker. "The boy and girl who live with Ransford--they'reBrake's son and daughter."

  "Did Brake know that--when he came here?" continued Bryce.

  "No, he didn't--he hadn't the least idea of it," responded Harker.

  "Had you--then?" asked Bryce.

  "No--not until later--a little later," replied Harker.

  "You found it out at Barthorpe?" suggested Bryce.

  "Not a bit of it; I worked it out here--after Brake was dead," saidHarker. "I went to Barthorpe on quite different business--Brake'sbusiness."

  "Ah!" said Bryce. He looked the old detective quietly in the eyes."You'd better tell me all about it," he added.

  "If we're both going to tell each other--all about it," stipulatedHarker.

  "That's settled," assented Bryce.

  Harker smoked thoughtfully for a moment and seemed to be thinking.

  "I'd better go back to the beginning," he said. "But, first--what do youknow about Brake? I know you went down to Barthorpe to find out what youcould--how far did your searches take you?"

  "I know that Brake married a girl from Braden Medworth, that he tookher to London, where he was manager of a branch bank, that he got intotrouble, and was sentenced to ten years' penal servitude," answeredBryce, "together with some small details into which we needn't go atpresent."

  "Well, as long as you know all that, there's a common basis and a commonstarting-point," remarked Harker, "so I'll begin at Brake's trial. Itwas I who arrested Brake. There was no trouble, no bother. He'd beentaken unawares, by an inspector of the bank. He'd a considerabledeficiency--couldn't make it good--couldn't or wouldn't explain exceptby half-sullen hints that he'd been cruelly deceived. There was nodefence--couldn't be. His counsel said that he could--"

  "I've read the account of the trial," interrupted Bryce.

  "All right--then you know as much as I can tell you on that point," saidHarker. "He got, as you say, ten years. I saw him just before he wasremoved and asked him if there was anything I could do for him about hiswife and children. I'd never seen them--I arrested him at the bank,and, of course, he was never out of custody after that. He answered ina queer, curt way that his wife and children were being looked after.I heard, incidentally, that his wife had left home, or was fromhome--there was something mysterious about it--either as soon as hewas arrested or before. Anyway, he said nothing, and from that momentI never set eyes on him again until I met him in the street here inWrychester, the other night, when he came to the Mitre. I knew him atonce--and he knew me. We met under one of those big standard lamps inthe Market Place--I was following my usual practice of having an eveningwalk, last thing before going to bed. And we stopped and stared at eachother. Then he came forward with his hand out, and we shook hands. 'Thisis an odd thing!' he said. 'You're the very man I wanted to find! Comesomewhere, where it's quiet, and let me have a word with you.' So--Ibrought him here."

  Bryce was all attention now--for once he was devoting all his facultiesto tense and absorbed concentration on what another man could tell,leaving reflections and conclusions on what he heard until all had beentold.

  "I brought him here," repeated Harker. "I told him I'd been retiredand was living here, as he saw, alone. I asked him no questions abouthimself--I could see he was a well-dressed, apparently well-to-do man.And presently he began to tell me about himself. He said that after he'dfinished his term he left England and for some time travelled inCanada and the United States, and had gone then--on to New Zealand andafterwards to Australia, where he'd settled down and begun speculatingin wool. I said I hoped he'd done well. Yes, he said, he'd done verynicely--and then he gave me a quiet dig in the ribs. 'I'll tell you onething I've done, Harker,' he said. 'You were very polite and considerateto me when I'd my trouble, so I don't mind telling you. I paid thebank every penny of that money they lost through my foolishness at thattime--every penny, four years ago, with interest, and I've got theirreceipt.' 'Delighted to hear it, Mr.--Is it the same name still?' Isaid. 'My name ever since I left England,' he said, giving me a look,'is Braden--John Braden.' 'Yes,' he went on, 'I paid 'em--though Inever had one penny of the money I was fool enough to take for thetime being--not one halfpenny!' 'Who had it, Mr. Braden?' I asked him,thinking that he'd perhaps tell after all that time. 'Never mind, mylad!' he answered. 'It'll come out--yet. Never mind that, now. I'll tellyou why I wanted to see you. The fact is, I've only been a few hours inEngland, so to speak, but I'd thought of you, and wondered where I couldget hold of you--you're the only man of your profession I ever met
, yousee,' he added, with a laugh. 'And I want a bit of help in that way.''Well, Mr. Braden,' I said, 'I've retired, but if it's an easy job--''It's one you can do, easy enough,' he said. 'It's just this--I met aman in Australia who's extremely anxious to get some news of anotherman, named Falkiner Wraye, who hails from Barthorpe, in Leicestershire.I promised to make inquiries for him. Now, I have strong reasons why Idon't want to go near Barthorpe--Barthorpe has unpleasant memories andassociations for me, and I don't want to be seen there. But this thing'sgot to be personal investigation--will you go here, for me? I'll makeit worth your while. All you've got to do,' he went on, 'is to gothere--see the police authorities, town officials, anybody that knowsthe place, and ask them if they can tell you anything of one FalkinerWraye, who was at one time a small estate agent in Barthorpe, left theplace about seventeen years ago--maybe eighteen--and is believed tohave recently gone back to the neighbourhood. That's all. Get whatinformation you can, and write it to me, care of my bankers in London.Give me a sheet of paper and I'll put down particulars for you.'"

  Harker paused at this point and nodded his head at an old bureau whichstood in a corner of his room.

  "The sheet of paper's there," he said. "It's got on it, in his writing,a brief memorandum of what he wanted and the address of his bankers.When he'd given it to me, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out apurse in which I could see he was carrying plenty of money. He took outsome notes. 'Here's five-and-twenty pounds on account, Harker,' he said.'You might have to spend a bit. Don't be afraid--plenty more where thatcomes from. You'll do it soon?' he asked. 'Yes, I'll do it, Mr. Braden,'I answered. 'It'll be a bit of a holiday for me.' 'That's all right,'he said. 'I'm delighted I came across you.' 'Well, you couldn't be moredelighted than I was surprised,' I said. 'I never thought to see youin Wrychester. What brought you here, if one may ask--sight-seeing?'He laughed at that, and he pulled out his purse again. 'I'll show yousomething--a secret,' he said, and he took a bit of folded paper out ofhis purse. 'What do you make of that?' he asked. 'Can you read Latin?''No--except a word or two,' I said, 'but I know a man who can.' 'Ah,never mind,' said he. 'I know enough Latin for this--and it's a secret.However, it won't be a secret long, and you'll hear all about it.'And with that he put the bit of paper in his purse again, and we begantalking about other matters, and before long he said he'd promised tohave a chat with a gentleman at the Mitre whom he'd come along within the train, and away he went, saying he'd see me before be left thetown."

  "Did he say how long he was going to stop here?" asked Bryce.

  "Two or three days," replied Harker.

  "Did he mention Ransford?" inquired Bryce.

  "Never!" said Harker.

  "Did he make any reference to his wife and children?"

  "Not the slightest!"

  "Nor to the hint that his counsel threw out at the trial?"

  "Never referred to that time except in the way I told you--that hehadn't a penny of the money, himself and that he'd himself refunded it."

  Bryce meditated awhile. He was somewhat puzzled by certain points in theold detective's story, and he saw now that there was much more mysteryin the Braden affair than he had at first believed.

  "Well," he asked, after a while, "did you see him again?"

  "Not alive!" replied Harker. "I saw him dead--and I held my tongue, andhave held it. But--something happened that day. After I heard of theaccident, I went into the Crown and Cushion tavern--the fact was, I wentto get a taste of whisky, for the news had upset me. And in that longbar of theirs, I saw a man whom I knew--a man whom I knew, for a fact,to have been a fellow convict of Brake's. Name of Glassdale--forgery.He got the same sentence that Brake got, about the same time, was in thesame convict prison with Brake, and he and Brake would be released aboutthe same date. There was no doubt about his identity--I never forget aface, even after thirty years I'd tell one. I saw him in that bar beforehe saw me, and I took a careful look at him. He, too, like Brake, wasvery well dressed, and very prosperous looking. He turned as he set downhis glass, and caught sight of me--and he knew me. Mind you, he'd beenthrough my hands in times past! And he instantly moved to a side-doorand--vanished. I went out and looked up and down--he'd gone. I found outafterwards, by a little quiet inquiry, that he'd gone straight to thestation, boarded the first train--there was one just giving out, to thejunction--and left the city. But I can lay hands on him!"

  "You've kept this quiet, too?" asked Bryce.

  "Just so--I've my own game to play," replied Harker. "This talk withyou is part of it--you come in, now--I'll tell you why, presently. Butfirst, as you know, I went to Barthorpe. For, though Brake was dead,I felt I must go--for this reason. I was certain that he wanted thatinformation for himself--the man in Australia was a fiction. I went,then--and learned nothing. Except that this Falkiner Wraye had been,as Brake said, a Barthorpe man, years ago. He'd left the town eighteenyears since, and nobody knew anything about him. So I came home. And nowthen, doctor--your turn! What were you after, down there at Barthorpe?"

  Bryce meditated his answer for a good five minutes. He had alwaysintended to play the game off his own bat, but he had heard and seenenough since entering Harker's little room to know that he was incompany with an intellect which was keener and more subtle than his, andthat it would be all to his advantage to go in with the man who had vastand deep experience. And so he made a clean breast of all he had done inthe way of investigation, leaving his motive completely aside.

  "You've got a theory, of course?" observed Harker, after listeningquietly to all that Bryce could tell. "Naturally, you have! You couldn'taccumulate all that without getting one."

  "Well," admitted Bryce, "honestly, I can't say that I have. But I cansee what theory there might be. This--that Ransford was the man whodeceived Brake, that he ran away with Brake's wife, that she's dead,and that he's brought up the children in ignorance of all that--andtherefore--"

  "And therefore," interrupted Harker with a smile, "that when he andBrake met--as you seem to think they did--Ransford flung Brake throughthat open doorway; that Collishaw witnessed it, that Ransford's foundout about Collishaw, and that Collishaw has been poisoned by Ransford.Eh?"

  "That's a theory that seems to be supported by facts," said Bryce.

  "It's a theory that would doubtless suit men like Mitchington," said theold detective, with another smile. "But--not me, sir! Mind you, I don'tsay there isn't something in it--there's doubtless a lot. But--themystery's a lot thicker than just that. And Brake didn't come here tofind Ransford. He came because of the secret in that scrap of paper. Andas you've got it, doctor--out with it!"

  Bryce saw no reason for concealment and producing the scrap of paperlaid it on the table between himself and his host. Harker peeredinquisitively at it.

  "Latin!" he said. "You can read it, of course. What does it say?"

  Bryce repeated a literal translation.

  "I've found the place," he added. "I found it this morning. Now, what doyou suppose this means?"

  Harker was looking hard at the two lines of writing.

  "That's a big question, doctor," he answered. "But I'll go so far as tosay this--when we've found out what it does mean, we shall know a lotmore than we know now!"