The Paradise Mystery

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER XXI. THE SAXONSTEADE ARMS

  Bryce had ridden away on his bicycle from Wrychester that morning intenton a new piece of diplomacy. He had sat up thinking for some time afterthe two police officials had left him at midnight, and it had occurredto him that there was a man from whom information could be had of whoseservices he had as yet made no use but who must be somewhere in theneighbourhood--the man Glassdale. Glassdale had been in Wrychester theprevious evening; he could scarcely be far away now; there was certainlyone person who would know where he could be found, and that personwas the Duke of Saxonsteade. Bryce knew the Duke to be an extremelyapproachable man, a talkative, even a garrulous man, given to holdingconverse with anybody about anything, and he speedily made up his mindto ride over to Saxonsteade, invent a plausible excuse for his call,and get some news out of his Grace. Even if Glassdale had left theneighbourhood, there might be fragments of evidence to pick up fromthe Duke, for Glassdale, he knew, had given his former employer theinformation about the stolen jewels and would, no doubt, have addedmore about his acquaintance with Braden. And before Bryce came to hisdreamed-of master-stroke in that matter, there were one or two things hewanted to clear up, to complete his double net, and he had an idea thatan hour's chat with Glassdale would yield all that he desired.

  The active brain that had stood Bryce in good stead while he spun hismeshes and devised his schemes was more active than ever that earlysummer morning. It was a ten-mile ride through woods and valleys toSaxonsteade, and there were sights and beauties of nature on either sideof him which any other man would have lingered to admire and most menwould have been influenced by. But Bryce had no eyes for the clouds overthe copper-crowned hills or the mystic shadows in the deep valleys orthe new buds in the hedgerows, and no thought for the rustic folk whosecottages he passed here and there in a sparsely populated country. Allhis thoughts were fixed on his schemes, almost as mechanically as hiseyes followed the white road in front of his wheel. Ever since he hadset out on his campaign he had regularly taken stock of his position; hewas for ever reckoning it up. And now, in his opinion, everything lookedvery promising. He had--so far as he was aware--created a definiteatmosphere of suspicion around and against Ransford--it needed only alittle more suggestion, perhaps a little more evidence to bring aboutRansford's arrest. And the only question which at all troubled Brycewas--should he let matters go to that length before putting hisultimatum before Mary Bewery, or should he show her his hand first? ForBryce had so worked matters that a word from him to the police woulddamn Ransford or save him--and now it all depended, so far as Brycehimself was concerned, on Mary Bewery as to which word should be said.Elaborate as the toils were which he had laid out for Ransford to thepolice, he could sweep them up and tear them away with a sentenceof added knowledge--if Mary Bewery made it worth his while. Butfirst--before coming to the critical point--there was yet certaininformation which he desired to get, and he felt sure of getting it ifhe could find Glassdale. For Glassdale, according to all accounts, hadknown Braden intimately of late years, and was most likely in possessionof facts about him--and Bryce had full confidence in himself as aninterviewer of other men and a supreme belief that he could wheedlea secret out of anybody with whom he could procure an hour's quietconversation.

  As luck would have it, Bryce had no need to make a call upon theapproachable and friendly Duke. Outside the little village atSaxonsteade, on the edge of the deep woods which fringed the ducal park,stood an old wayside inn, a relic of the coaching days, which boreon its sign the ducal arms. Into its old stone hall marched Bryce torefresh himself after his ride, and as he stood at the bow-windowed bar,he glanced into the garden beyond and there saw, comfortably smoking hispipe and reading the newspaper, the very man he was looking for.

  Bryce had no spice of bashfulness, no want of confidence anywhere in hisnature; he determined to attack Glassdale there and then. But he tooka good look at his man before going out into the garden to him. A plainand ordinary sort of fellow, he thought; rather over middle age, witha tinge of grey in his hair and moustache; prosperous looking andwell-dressed, and at that moment of the appearance of what he wasprobably taken for by the inn people--a tourist. Whether he was the sortwho would be communicative or not, Bryce could not tell from outwardsigns, but he was going to try, and he presently found his card-case,took out a card, and strolling down the garden to the shady spotin which Glassdale sat, assumed his politest and suavest manner andpresented himself.

  "Allow me, sir," he said, carefully abstaining from any mention ofnames. "May I have the pleasure of a few minutes' conversation withyou?"

  Glassdale cast a swift glance of surprise, not unmingled with suspicion,at the intruder--the sort of glance that a man used to watchfulnesswould throw at anybody, thought Bryce. But his face cleared as he readthe card, though it was still doubtful as he lifted it again.

  "You've the advantage of me, sir," he said. "Dr. Bryce, I see. But--"

  Bryce smiled and dropped into a garden chair at Glassdale's side.

  "You needn't be afraid of talking to me," he answered. "I'm well knownin Wrychester. The Duke," he went on, nodding his head in the directionof the great house which lay behind the woods at the foot of the garden,"knows me well enough--in fact, I was on my way to see his Grace now, toask him if he could tell me where you could be found. The fact is,I'm aware of what happened last night--the jewel affair, youknow--Mitchington told me--and of your friendship with Braden, and Iwant to ask you a question or two about Braden."

  Glassdale, who had looked somewhat mystified at the beginning of thisaddress, seemed to understand matters better by the end of it.

  "Oh, well, of course, doctor," he said, "if that's it--but, of course--aword first!--these folk here at the inn don't know who I am or that I'veany connection with the Duke on that affair. I'm Mr. Gordon here--juststaying for a bit."

  "That's all right," answered Bryce with a smile of understanding. "Allthis is between ourselves. I saw you with the Duke and the rest of themlast night, and I recognized you just now. And all I want is a bit oftalk about Braden. You knew him pretty well of late years?"

  "Knew him for a good many years," replied Glassdale. He looked narrowlyat his visitor. "I suppose you know his story--and mine?" he asked."Bygone affairs, eh?"

  "Yes, yes!" answered Bryce reassuringly. "No need to go intothat--that's all done with."

  "Aye--well, we both put things right," said Glassdale. "Maderestitution--both of us, you understand. So that is done with? And youknow, then, of course, who Braden really was?"

  "John Brake, ex bank-manager," answered Bryce promptly. "I know allabout it. I've been deeply interested and concerned in his death. AndI'll tell you why. I want to marry his daughter."

  Glassdale turned and stared at his companion.

  "His daughter!" he exclaimed. "Brake's daughter! God bless my soul! Inever knew he had a daughter!"

  It was Bryce's turn to stare now. He looked at Glassdale incredulously.

  "Do you mean to tell me that you knew Brake all those years and that henever mentioned his children?" he exclaimed.

  "Never a word of 'em!" replied Glassdale. "Never knew he had any!"

  "Did he never speak of his past?" asked Bryce.

  "Not in that respect," answered Glassdale. "I'd no idea that he was--orhad been--a married man. He certainly never mentioned wife nor childrento me, sir, and yet I knew Brake about as intimately as two men can knoweach other for some years before we came back to England."

  Bryce fell into one of his fits of musing. What could be the meaning ofthis extraordinary silence on Brake's part? Was there still some hiddensecret, some other mystery at which he had not yet guessed?

  "Odd!" he remarked at last after a long pause during which Glassdale hadwatched him curiously. "But, did he ever speak to you of an old friendof his named Ransford--a doctor?"

  "Never!" said Glassdale. "Never mentioned such a man!"

  Bryce reflected again, and suddenly determined to be explicit.
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  "John Brake, the bank manager," he said, "was married at a place calledBraden Medworth, in Leicestershire, to a girl named Mary Bewery. He hadtwo children, who would be, respectively, about four and one years ofage when his--we'll call it misfortune--happened. That's a fact!"

  "First I ever heard of it, then," said Glassdale. "And that's a fact,too!"

  "He'd also a very close friend named Ransford--Mark Ransford," continuedBryce. "This Ransford was best man at Brake's wedding."

  "Never heard him speak of Ransford, nor of any wedding!" affirmedGlassdale. "All news to me, doctor."

  "This Ransford is now in practice in Wrychester," said Bryce. "And hehas two young people living with him as his wards--a girl of twenty, aboy of seventeen--who are, without doubt, John Brake's children. It isthe daughter that I want to marry."

  Glassdale shook his head as if in sheer perplexity.

  "Well, all I can say is, you surprise me!" he remarked. "I'd no idea ofany such thing."

  "Do you think Brake came to Wrychester because of that?" asked Bryce.

  "How can I answer that, sir, when I tell you that I never heard himbreathe one word of any children?" exclaimed Glassdale. "No! I know hisreason for coming to Wrychester. It was wholly and solely--as far asI know--to tell the Duke here about that jewel business, the secret ofwhich had been entrusted to Brake and me by a man on his death-bed inAustralia. Brake came to Wrychester by himself--I was to join him nextmorning: we were then to go to see the Duke together. When I got toWrychester, I heard of Brake's accident, and being upset by it, I wentaway again and waited some days until yesterday, when I made up my mindto tell the Duke myself, as I did, with very fortunate results. No,that's the only reason I know of why Brake came this way. I tell youI knew nothing at all of his family affairs! He was a very close man,Brake, and apart from his business matters, he'd only one idea in hishead, and that was lodged there pretty firmly, I can assure you!"

  "What was it?" asked Bryce.

  "He wanted to find a certain man--or, rather, two men--who'd cruellydeceived and wronged him, but one of 'em in particular," answeredGlassdale. "The particular one he believed to be in Australia, untilnear the end, when he got an idea that he'd left for England; as forthe other, he didn't bother much about him. But the man that he didwant!--ah, he wanted him badly!"

  "Who was that man?" asked Bryce.

  "A man of the name of Falkiner Wraye," answered Glassdale promptly. "Aman he'd known in London. This Wraye, together with his partner, aman called Flood, tricked Brake into lending 'em several thousandspounds--bank's money, of course--for a couple of days--no more--andthen clean disappeared, leaving him to pay the piper! He was a fool, nodoubt, but he'd been mixed up with them; he'd done it before, and they'dalways kept their promises, and he did it once too often. He let 'emhave some thousands; they disappeared, and the bank inspector happenedto call at Brake's bank and ask for his balances. And--there he was.And--that's why he'd Falkiner Wraye on his mind--as his one big idea.T'other man was a lesser consideration, Wraye was the chief offender."

  "I wish you'd tell me all you know about Brake," said Bryce after apause during which he had done some thinking. "Between ourselves, ofcourse."

  "Oh--I don't know that there's so much secrecy!" replied Glassdalealmost indifferently. "Of course, I knew him first when we were bothinmates of--you understand where; no need for particulars. But after weleft that place, I never saw him again until we met in Australia a fewyears ago. We were both in the same trade--speculating in wool. We gotpretty thick and used to see each other a great deal, and of course,grew confidential. He told me in time about his affair, and how he'dtraced this Wraye to the United States, and then, I think, to NewZealand, and afterwards to Australia, and as I was knocking about thecountry a great deal buying up wool, he asked me to help him, andgave me a description of Wraye, of whom, he said, he'd certainly heardsomething when he first landed at Sydney, but had never been able totrace afterwards. But it was no good--I never either saw or heard ofWraye--and Brake came to the conclusion he'd left Australia. And I knowhe hoped to get news of him, somehow, when we returned to England."

  "That description, now?--what was it?" asked Bryce.

  "Oh!" said Glassdale. "I can't remember it all, now--big man, cleanshaven, nothing very particular except one thing. Wraye, according toBrake, had a bad scar on his left jaw and had lost the middle finger ofhis left hand--all from a gun accident. He--what's the matter, sir?"

  Bryce had suddenly let his pipe fall from his lips. He took some timein picking it up. When he raised himself again his face was calm if alittle flushed from stooping.

  "Bit my pipe on a bad tooth!" he muttered. "I must have that tooth seento. So you never heard or saw anything of this man?"

  "Never!" answered Glassdale. "But I've wondered since this Wrychesteraffair if Brake accidentally came across one or other of those men,and if his death arose out of it. Now, look here, doctor! I read theaccounts of the inquest on Brake--I'd have gone to it if I'd dared, butjust then I hadn't made up my mind about seeing the Duke; I didn't knowwhat to do, so I kept away, and there's a thing has struck me that Idon't believe the police have ever taken the slightest, notice of."

  "What's that?" demanded Bryce.

  "Why, this!" answered Glassdale. "That man who called himselfDellingham--who came with Brake to the Mitre Hotel at Wrychester--whois he? Where did Brake meet him? Where did he go? Seems to me the policehave been strangely negligent about that! According to the accounts I'veread, everybody just accepted this Dellingham's first statement, tookhis word, and let him--vanish! No one, as far as I know, ever verifiedhis account of himself. A stranger!"

  Bryce, who was already in one of his deep moods of reflection, got upfrom his chair as if to go.

  "Yes," he said. "There maybe something in your suggestion. Theycertainly did take his word without inquiry. It's true--he mightn't bewhat he said he was."

  "Aye, and from what I read, they never followed his movements thatmorning!" observed Glassdale. "Queer business altogether! Isn't theresome reward offered, doctor? I heard of some placards or something, butI've never seen them; of course, I've only been here since yesterdaymorning."

  Bryce silently drew some papers from his pocket. From them he extractedthe two handbills which Mitchington had given him and handed them over.

  "Well, I must go," he said. "I shall no doubt see you again inWrychester, over this affair. For the present, all this is betweenourselves, of course?"

  "Oh, of course, doctor!" answered Glassdale. "Quite so!" Bryce went offand got his bicycle and rode away in the direction of Wrychester. Had heremained in that garden he would have seen Glassdale, after reading boththe handbills, go into the house and have heard him ask the landlady atthe bar to get him a trap and a good horse in it as soon as possible;he, too, now wanted to go to Wrychester and at once. But Bryce wasriding down the road, muttering certain words to himself over and overagain.

  "The left jaw--and the left hand!" he repeated. "Left hand--left jaw!Unmistakable!"