CHAPTER XXII. OTHER PEOPLE'S NOTIONS
The great towers of Wrychester Cathedral had come within Bryce's viewbefore he had made up his mind as to the next step in this last stage ofhis campaign. He had ridden away from the Saxonsteade Arms feeling thathe had got to do something at once, but he was not quite clear in hismind as to what that something exactly was. But now, as he topped a risein the road, and saw Wrychester lying in its hollow beneath him, thesummer sun shining on its red roofs and grey walls, he suddenly came toa decision, and instead of riding straight ahead into the old city heturned off at a by-road, made a line across the northern outskirts, andheaded for the golf-links. He was almost certain to find Mary Bewerythere at that hour, and he wanted to see her at once. The time for hisgreat stroke had come.
But Mary Bewery was not there--had not been there that morning said thecaddy-master. There were only a few players out. In one of them, comingtowards the club-house, Bryce recognized Sackville Bonham. And at sightof Sackville, Bryce had an inspiration. Mary Bewery would not come up tothe links now before afternoon; he, Bryce, would lunch there and then gotowards Wrychester to meet her by the path across the fields on whichhe had waylaid her after his visit to Leicestershire. And meanwhilehe would inveigle Sackville Bonham into conversation. Sackville fellreadily into Bryce's trap. He was the sort of youth who loves to talk,especially in a hinting and mysterious fashion. And when Bryce, aftertreating him to an appetizer in the bar of the club-house, had suggestedthat they should lunch together and got him into a quiet corner of thedining-room, he launched forth at once on the pertinent matter of theday.
"Heard all about this discovery of those missing Saxonsteade diamonds?"he asked as he and Bryce picked up their knives and forks. "Queerbusiness that, isn't it? Of course, it's got to do with those murders!"
"Think so?" asked Bryce.
"Can anybody think anything else?" said Sackville in his best dogmaticmanner. "Why, the thing's plain. From what's been let out--not much,certainly, but enough--it's quite evident."
"What's your theory?" inquired Bryce.
"My stepfather--knowing old bird he is, too!--sums the whole thing up toa nicety," answered Sackville. "That old chap, Braden, you know, is inpossession of that secret. He comes to Wrychester about it. But somebodyelse knows. That somebody gets rid of Braden. Why? So that the secret'llbe known then only to one--the murderer! See! And why? Why?"
"Well, why?" repeated Bryce. "Don't see, so far."
"You must be dense, then," said Sackville with the lofty superiority ofyouth. "Because of the reward, of course! Don't you know that there'sbeen a standing offer--never withdrawn!--of five thousand pounds fornews of those jewels?"
"No, I didn't," answered Bryce.
"Fact, sir--pure fact," continued Sackville. "Now, five thousand,divided in two, is two thousand five hundred each. But five thousand,undivided, is--what?"
"Five thousand--apparently," said Bryce.
"Just so! And," remarked Sackville knowingly, "a man'll do a lot forfive thousand."
"Or--according to your argument--for half of it," said Bryce. "Whatyou--or your stepfather's--aiming at comes to this, that suspicion restson Braden's sharer in the secret. That it?"
"And why not?" asked Sackville. "Look at what we know--from the accountin the paper this morning. This other chap, Glassdale, waits a bit untilthe first excitement about Braden is over, then he comes forward andtells the Duke where the Duchess's diamonds are planted. Why? So that hecan get the five thousand pound reward! Plain as a pikestaff! Only, thepolice are such fools."
"And what about Collishaw?" asked Bryce, willing to absorb all hiscompanion's ideas.
"Part of the game," declared Sackville. "Same man that got rid ofBraden got rid of that chap! Probably Collishaw knew a bit and had tobe silenced. But, whether that Glassdale did it all off his own bat orwhether he's somebody in with him, that's where the guilt'll be fastenedin the end, my stepfather says. And--it'll be so. Stands to reason!"
"Anybody come forward about that reward your stepfather offered?" askedBryce.
"I'm not permitted to say," answered Sackville. "But," he added, leaningcloser to his companion across the table, "I can tell you this--there'swheels within wheels! You understand! And things'll be coming out. Gotto! We can't--as a family--let Ransford lie under that cloud, don't youknow. We must clear him. That's precisely why Mr. Folliot offered hisreward. Ransford, of course, you know, Bryce, is very much to blame--heought to have done more himself. And, of course, as my mother and mystepfather say, if Ransford won't do things for himself, well, we mustdo 'em for him! We couldn't think of anything else."
"Very good of you all, I'm sure," assented Bryce. "Very thoughtful andkindly."
"Oh, well!" said Sackville, who was incapable of perceiving a sneeror of knowing when older men were laughing at him. "It's one of thosethings that one's got to do--under the circumstances. Of course, MissBewery isn't Dr. Ransford's daughter, but she's his ward, and we can'tallow suspicion to rest on her guardian. You leave it to me, my boy, andyou'll see how things will be cleared!"
"Doing a bit underground, eh?" asked Bryce.
"Wait a bit!" answered Sackville with a knowing wink. "It's the leastexpected that happens--what?"
Bryce replied that Sackville was no doubt right, and began to talk ofother matters. He hung about the club-house until past three o'clock,and then, being well acquainted with Mary Bewery's movements from longobservation of them, set out to walk down towards Wrychester, leavinghis bicycle behind him. If he did not meet Mary on the way, he meant togo to the house. Ransford would be out on his afternoon round of calls;Dick Bewery would be at school; he would find Mary alone. And it wasnecessary that he should see her alone, and at once, for since morningan entirely new view of affairs had come to him, based on addedknowledge, and he now saw a chance which he had never seen before. True,he said to himself, as he walked across the links and over the countrywhich lay between their edge and Wrychester, he had not, even now,the accurate knowledge as to the actual murderer of either Braden orCollishaw that he would have liked, but he knew something that wouldenable him to ask Mary Bewery point-blank whether he was to be friend orenemy. And he was still considering the best way of putting his case toher when, having failed to meet her on the way, he at last turned intothe Close, and as he approached Ransford's house, saw Mrs. Folliotleaving it.
Mary Bewery, like Bryce, had been having a day of events. To begin with,Ransford had received a wire from London, first thing in the morning,which had made him run, breakfastless, to catch the next express. He hadleft Mary to make arrangements about his day's work, for he had notyet replaced Bryce, and she had been obliged to seek out anotherpractitioner who could find time from his own duties to attend toRansford's urgent patients. Then she had had to see callers who cameto the surgery expecting to find Ransford there; and in the middle of abusy morning, Mr. Folliot had dropped in, to bring her a bunch of roses,and, once admitted, had shown unmistakable signs of a desire to gossip.
"Ransford out?" he asked as he sat down in the dining-room. "Suppose heis, this time of day."
"He's away," replied Mary. "He went to town by the first express, and Ihave had a lot of bother arranging about his patients."
"Did he hear about this discovery of the Saxonsteade jewels before hewent?" asked Folliot. "Suppose he wouldn't though--wasn't known untilthe weekly paper came out this morning. Queer business! You've heard, ofcourse?"
"Dr. Short told me," answered Mary. "I don't know any details."
Folliot looked meditatively at her a moment.
"Got something to do with those other matters, you know," he remarked."I say! What's Ransford doing about all that?"
"About all what, Mr. Folliot?" asked Mary, at once on her guard. "Idon't understand you."
"You know--all that suspicion--and so on," said Folliot. "Bad positionfor a professional man, you know--ought to clear himself. Anybody beenapplying for that reward Ransford offered?"
"I don't know
anything about it," replied Mary. "Dr. Ransford is verywell able to take care of himself, I think. Has anybody applied foryours?"
Folliot rose from his chair again, as if he had changed his mind aboutlingering, and shook his head.
"Can't say what my solicitors may or may not have heard--or done," heanswered. "But--queer business, you know--and ought to be settled. Badfor Ransford to have any sort of a cloud over him. Sorry to see it."
"Is that why you came forward with a reward?" asked Mary.
But to this direct question Folliot made no answer. He mutteredsomething about the advisability of somebody doing something and wentaway, to Mary's relief. She had no desire to discuss the Paradisemysteries with anybody, especially after Ransford's assurance of theprevious evening. But in the middle of the afternoon in walked Mrs.Folliot, a rare caller, and before she had been closeted with Mary fiveminutes brought up the subject again.
"I want to speak to you on a very serious matter, my dear Miss Bewery,"she said. "You must allow me to speak plainly on account of--of severalthings. My--my superiority in--in age, you know, and all that!"
"What's the matter, Mrs. Folliot?" asked Mary, steeling herself againstwhat she felt sure was coming. "Is it--very serious? And--pardon me--isit about what Mr. Folliot mentioned to me this morning? Because if itis, I'm not going to discuss that with you or with anybody!"
"I had no idea that my husband had been here this morning," answeredMrs. Folliot in genuine surprise. "What did he want to talk about?"
"In that case, what do you want to talk about?" asked Mary. "Though thatdoesn't mean that I'm going to talk about it with you."
Mrs. Folliot made an effort to understand this remark, and afterinspecting her hostess critically for a moment, proceeded in her mostjudicial manner.
"You must see, my dear Miss Bewery, that it is highly necessary thatsome one should use the utmost persuasion on Dr. Ransford," she said."He is placing all of you--himself, yourself, your young brother--inmost invidious positions by his silence! In society such as--well,such as you get in a cathedral town, you know, no man of reputation canafford to keep silence when his--his character is affected."
Mary picked up some needlework and began to be much occupied with it.
"Is Dr. Ransford's character affected?" she asked. "I wasn't aware ofit, Mrs. Folliot."
"Oh, my dear, you can't be quite so very--so very, shall we sayingenuous?--as all that!" exclaimed Mrs. Folliot. "These rumours!--ofcourse, they are very wicked and cruel ones, but you know they havespread. Dear me!--why, they have been common talk!"
"I don't think my guardian cares twopence for common talk, Mrs.Folliot," answered Mary. "And I am quite sure I don't."
"None of us--especially people in our position--can afford to ignorerumours and common talk," said Mrs. Folliot in her loftiest manner. "Ifwe are, unfortunately, talked about, then it is our solemn, bounden dutyto put ourselves right in the eyes of our friends--and of society. IfI for instance, my dear, heard anything affecting my--let me say,moral-character, I should take steps, the most stringent, drastic, andforceful steps, to put matters to the test. I would not remain under astigma--no, not for one minute!"
"I hope you will never have occasion to rehabilitate your moralcharacter, Mrs. Folliot," remarked Mary, bending closely over her work."Such a necessity would indeed be dreadful."
"And yet you do not insist--yes, insist!--on Dr. Ransford's takingstrong steps to clear himself!" exclaimed Mrs. Folliot. "Now that,indeed, is a dreadful necessity!"
"Dr. Ransford," answered Mary, "is quite able to defend and to take careof himself. It is not for me to tell him what to do, or even to advisehim what to do. And--since you will talk of this matter, I tell youfrankly, Mrs. Folliot, that I don't believe any decent person inWrychester has the least suspicion or doubt of Dr. Ransford. His denialof any share or complicity in those sad affairs--the mere idea of it asridiculous as it's wicked--was quite sufficient. You know very well thatat that second inquest he said--on oath, too--that he knew nothing ofthese affairs. I repeat, there isn't a decent soul in the city doubtsthat!"
"Oh, but you're quite wrong!" said Mrs. Folliot, hurriedly. "Quitewrong, I assure you, my dear. Of course, everybody knows what Dr.Ransford said--very excitedly, poor man, I'm given to understand on theoccasion you refer to, but then, what else could he have said in his owninterest? What people want is the proof of his innocence. I could--but Iwon't--tell you of many of the very best people who are--well, very muchexercised over the matter--I could indeed!"
"Do you count yourself among them?" asked Mary in a cold fashionwhich would have been a warning to any one but her visitor. "Am I tounderstand that, Mrs. Folliot?"
"Certainly not, my dear," answered Mrs. Folliot promptly. "Otherwise Ishould not have done what I have done towards establishing the foolishman's innocence!"
Mary dropped her work and turned a pair of astonished eyes on Mrs.Folliot's large countenance.
"You!" she exclaimed. "To establish--Dr. Ransford's innocence? Why, Mrs.Folliot, what have you done?"
Mrs. Folliot toyed a little with the jewelled head of her sunshade. Herexpression became almost coy.
"Oh, well!" she answered after a brief spell of indecision. "Perhaps itis as well that you should know, Miss Bewery. Of course, when all thissad trouble was made far worse by that second affair--the working-man'sdeath, you know, I said to my husband that really one must do something,seeing that Dr. Ransford was so very, very obdurate and wouldn't speak.And as money is nothing--at least as things go--to me or to Mr. Folliot,I insisted that he should offer a thousand pounds reward to have thething cleared up. He's a generous and open-handed man, and he agreedwith me entirely, and put the thing in hand through his solicitors. Andnothing would please us more, my dear, than to have that thousand poundsclaimed! For of course, if there is to be--as I suppose there is--aunion between our families, it would be utterly impossible that anycloud could rest on Dr. Ransford, even if he is only your guardian. Myson's future wife cannot, of course--"
Mary laid down her work again and for a full minute stared Mrs. Folliotin the face.
"Mrs. Folliot!" she said at last. "Are you under the impression that I'mthinking of marrying your son?"
"I think I've every good reason for believing it!" replied Mrs. Folliot.
"You've none!" retorted Mary, gathering up her work and moving towardsthe door. "I've no more intention of marrying Mr. Sackville Bonham thanof eloping with the Bishop! The idea's too absurd to--even be thoughtof!"
Five minutes later Mrs. Folliot, heightened in colour, had gone.And presently Mary, glancing after her across the Close, saw Bryceapproaching the gate of the garden.
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