CHAPTER XXIII. THE UNEXPECTED
Mary's first instinct on seeing the approach of Pemberton Bryce, the oneman she least desired to see, was to retreat to the back of the houseand send the parlourmaid to the door to say her mistress was not athome. But she had lately become aware of Bryce's curiously doggedpersistence in following up whatever he had in view, and she reflectedthat if he were sent away then he would be sure to come back and comeback until he had got whatever it was that he wanted. And after amoment's further consideration, she walked out of the front door andconfronted him resolutely in the garden.
"Dr. Ransford is away," she said with almost unnecessary brusqueness."He's away until evening."
"I don't want him," replied Bryce just as brusquely. "I came to seeyou."
Mary hesitated. She continued to regard Bryce steadily, and Bryce didnot like the way in which she was looking at him. He made haste to speakbefore she could either leave or dismiss him.
"You'd better give me a few minutes," he said, with a note of warning."I'm here in your interests--or in Ransford's. I may as well tell you,straight out, Ransford's in serious and imminent danger! That's a fact."
"Danger of what?" she demanded.
"Arrest--instant arrest!" replied Bryce. "I'm telling you thetruth. He'll probably be arrested tonight, on his return. There's noimagination in all this--I'm speaking of what I know. I've--curiouslyenough--got mixed up with these affairs, through no seeking of my own,and I know what's behind the scenes. If it were known that I'm lettingout secrets to you, I should get into trouble. But, I want to warn you!"
Mary stood before him on the path, hesitating. She knew enough to knowthat Bryce was telling some sort of truth: it was plain that he had beenmixed up in the recent mysteries, and there was a ring of convictionin his voice which impressed her. And suddenly she had visions ofRansford's arrest, of his being dragged off to prison to meet a cruelaccusation, of the shame and disgrace, and she hesitated further.
"But if that's so," she said at last, "what's the good of coming to me?I can't do anything!"
"I can!" said Bryce significantly. "I know more--much more--than thepolice know--more than anybody knows. I can save Ransford. Understandthat!"
"What do you want now?" she asked.
"To talk to you--to tell you how things are," answered Bryce. "What harmis there in that? To make you see how matters stand, and then to showyou what I can do to put things right."
Mary glanced at an open summer-house which stood beneath the beech treeson one side of the garden. She moved towards it and sat down there, andBryce followed her and seated himself.
"Well--" she said.
Bryce realized that his moment had arrived. He paused, endeavouringto remember the careful preparations he had made for putting his case.Somehow, he was not so clear as to his line of attack as he had been tenminutes previously--he realized that he had to deal with a young womanwho was not likely to be taken in nor easily deceived. And suddenly heplunged into what he felt to be the thick of things.
"Whether you, or whether Ransford--whether both or either of you, knowit or not," he said, "the police have been on to Ransford ever sincethat Collishaw affair! Underground work, you know. Mitchington hasbeen digging into things ever since then, and lately he's had a Londondetective helping him."
Mary, who had carried her work into the garden, had now resumed it, andas Bryce began to talk she bent over it steadily stitching.
"Well?" she said.
"Look here!" continued Bryce. "Has it never struck you--it must havedone!--that there's considerable mystery about Ransford? But whether ithas struck you or not, it's there, and it's struck the police forcibly.Mystery connected with him before--long before--he ever came here. Andassociated, in some way, with that man Braden. Not of late--in yearspast. And, naturally, the police have tried to find out what that was."
"What have they found out?" asked Mary quietly.
"That I'm not at liberty to tell," replied Bryce. "But I can tellyou this--they know, Mitchington and the London man, that there werepassages between Ransford and Braden years ago."
"How many years ago?" interrupted Mary.
Bryce hesitated a moment. He had a suspicion that this self-possessedyoung woman who was taking everything more quietly than he hadanticipated, might possibly know more than he gave her credit forknowing. He had been watching her fingers since they sat down in thesummer-house, and his sharp eyes saw that they were as steady as thespire of the cathedral above the trees--he knew from that that she wasneither frightened nor anxious.
"Oh, well--seventeen to twenty years ago," he answered. "About thattime. There were passages, I say, and they were of a nature whichsuggests that the re-appearance of Braden on Ransford's present stage oflife would be, extremely unpleasant and unwelcome to Ransford."
"Vague!" murmured Mary. "Extremely vague!"
"But quite enough," retorted Bryce, "to give the police the suggestionof motive. I tell you the police know quite enough to know that Bradenwas, of all men in the world, the last man Ransford desired to seecross his path again. And--on that morning on which the Paradise affairoccurred--Braden did cross his path. Therefore, in the conventionalpolice way of thinking and looking at things, there's motive."
"Motive for what?" asked Mary.
Bryce arrived here at one of his critical stages, and he paused a momentin order to choose his words.
"Don't get any false ideas or impressions," he said at last. "I'm notaccusing Ransford of anything. I'm only telling you what I know thepolice think and are on the very edge of accusing him of. To put itplainly--of murder. They say he'd a motive for murdering Braden--andwith them motive is everything. It's the first thing they seem to thinkof; they first question they ask themselves. 'Why should this man havemurdered that man?'--do you see! 'What motive had he?--that's the point.And they think--these chaps like Mitchington and the London man--thatRansford certainly had a motive for getting rid of Braden when theymet."
"What was the motive?" asked Mary.
"They've found out something--perhaps a good deal--about what happenedbetween Braden and Ransford some years ago," replied Bryce. "And theirtheory is--if you want to know the truth--that Ransford ran away withBraden's wife, and that Braden had been looking for him ever since."
Bryce had kept his eyes on Mary's hands, and now at last he saw thegirl's fingers tremble. But her voice was steady enough when she spoke.
"Is that mere conjecture on their part, or is it based on any fact?" sheasked.
"I'm not in full knowledge of all their secrets," answered Bryce, "butI've heard enough to know that there's a basis of undeniable fact onwhich they're going. I know for instance, beyond doubt, that Braden andRansford were bosom friends, years ago, that Braden was married to agirl whom Ransford had wanted to marry, that Braden's wife suddenlyleft him, mysteriously, a few years later, and that, at the same time,Ransford made an equally mysterious disappearance. The police knowall that. What is the inference to be drawn? What inference would anyone--you yourself, for example--draw?"
"None, till I've heard what Dr. Ransford had to say," replied Mary.
Bryce disliked that ready retort. He was beginning to feel that he wasbeing met by some force stronger than his own.
"That's all very well," he remarked. "I don't say that I wouldn't do thesame. But I'm only explaining the police position, and showing you thedanger likely to arise from it. The police theory is this, as far asI can make it out: Ransford, years ago, did Braden a wrong, and Bradencertainly swore revenge when he could find him. Circumstances preventedBraden from seeking him closely for some time; at last they met here, byaccident. Here the police aren't decided. One theory is that there wasan altercation, blows, a struggle, in the course of which Braden met hisdeath; the other is that Ransford deliberately took Braden up into thegallery and flung him through that open doorway--"
"That," observed Mary, with something very like a sneer, "seems solikely that I should think it would never occur to anybody b
ut the sortof people you're telling me of! No man of any real sense would believeit for a minute!"
"Some people of plain common sense do believe it for all that!" retortedBryce. "For it's quite possible. But as I say, I'm only repeating. Andof course, the rest of it follows on that. The police theory is thatCollishaw witnessed Braden's death at Ransford's hands, that Ransfordgot to know that Collishaw knew of that, and that he therefore quietlyremoved Collishaw. And it is on all that that they're going, and willgo. Don't ask me if I think they're right or wrong! I'm only telling youwhat I know so as to show you what danger Ransford is in."
Mary made no immediate answer, and Bryce sat watching her. Somehow--hewas at a loss to explain it to himself--things were not going as he hadexpected. He had confidently believed that the girl would be frightened,scared, upset, ready to do anything that he asked or suggested. But shewas plainly not frightened. And the fingers which busied themselves withthe fancy-work had become steady again, and her voice had been steadyall along.
"Pray," she asked suddenly, and with a little satirical inflection ofvoice which Brice was quick to notice, "pray, how is it that you--nota policeman, not a detective!--come to know so much of all this?Since when were you taken into the confidence of Mitchington and themysterious person from London?"
"You know as well as I do that I have been dragged into the case againstmy wishes," answered Bryce almost sullenly. "I was fetched to Braden--Isaw him die. It was I who found Collishaw--dead. Of course, I've beenmixed up, whether I would or not, and I've had to see a good deal of thepolice, and naturally I've learnt things."
Mary suddenly turned on him with a flash of the eye which might havewarned Bryce that he had signally failed in the main feature of hisadventure.
"And what have you learnt that makes you come here and tell me allthis?" she exclaimed. "Do you think I'm a simpleton, Dr. Bryce? You setout by saying that Dr. Ransford is in danger from the police, and thatyou know more--much more than the police! what does that mean? Shall Itell you? It means that you--you!--know that the police are wrong, andthat if you like you can prove to them that they are wrong! Now, thenisn't that so?"
"I am in possession of certain facts," began Bryce. "I--"
Mary stopped him with a look.
"My turn!" she said. "You're in possession of certain facts. Now isn'tit the truth that the facts you are in possession of are proof enough toyou that Dr. Ransford is as innocent as I am? It's no use your trying todeceive me! Isn't that so?"
"I could certainly turn the police off his track," admitted Bryce, whowas growing highly uncomfortable. "I could divert--"
Mary gave him another look and dropping her needlework continued towatch him steadily.
"Do you call yourself a gentleman?" she asked quietly. "Or we'll leavethe term out. Do you call yourself even decently honest? For, if you do,how can you have the sheer impudence--more, insolence!--to come here andtell me all this when you know that the police are wrong and that youcould--to use your own term, which is your way of putting it--turn themoff the wrong track? Whatever sort of man are you? Do you want to knowmy opinion of you in plain words?"
"You seem very anxious to give it, anyway," retorted Bryce.
"I will give it, and it will perhaps put an end to this," answered Mary."If you are in possession of anything in the way of evidence which wouldprove Dr. Ransford's innocence and you are wilfully suppressing it,you are bad, wicked, base, cruel, unfit for any decent being's society!And," she added, as she picked up her work and rose, "you're not goingto have any more of mine!"
"A moment!" said Bryce. He was conscious that he had somehow played allhis cards badly, and he wanted another opening. "You're misunderstandingme altogether! I never said--never inferred--that I wouldn't saveRansford."
"Then, if there's need, which I don't admit, you acknowledge that youcould save him?" she exclaimed sharply. "Just as I thought. Then, ifyou're an honest man, a man with any pretensions to honour, why don'tyou at once! Any man who had such feelings as those I've just mentionedwouldn't hesitate one second. But you--you!--you come and--talk aboutit! As if it were a game! Dr. Bryce, you make me feel sick, mentally,morally sick."
Bryce had risen to his feet when Mary rose, and he now stood staring ather. Ever since his boyhood he had laughed and sneered at the mere ideaof the finer feelings--he believed that every man has his price--andthat honesty and honour are things useful as terms but of no realexistence. And now he was wondering--really wondering--if this girlmeant the things she said: if she really felt a mental loathing of suchminds and purposes as he knew his own were, or if it were merely actingon her part. Before he could speak she turned on him again more fiercelythan before.
"Shall I tell you something else in plain language?" she asked. "Youevidently possess a very small and limited knowledge--if you have any atall!--of women, and you apparently don't rate their mental qualities atany high standard. Let me tell you that I am not quite such a fool asyou seem to think me! You came here this afternoon to bargain with me!You happen to know how much I respect my guardian and what I owe himfor the care he has taken of me and my brother. You thought to trade onthat! You thought you could make a bargain with me; you were to save Dr.Ransford, and for reward you were to have me! You daren't deny it. Dr.Bryce--I can see through you!"
"I never said it, at any rate," answered Bryce.
"Once more, I say, I'm not a fool!" exclaimed Mary. "I saw through youall along. And you've failed! I'm not in the least frightened by whatyou've said. If the police arrest Dr. Ransford, Dr. Ransford knows howto defend himself. And you're not afraid for him! You know you aren't.It wouldn't matter twopence to you if he were hanged tomorrow, for youhate him. But look to yourself! Men who cheat, and scheme, and plot, andplan as you do come to bad ends. Mind yours! Mind the wheel doesn't comefull circle. And now, if you please, go away and don't dare to come nearme again!"
Bryce made no answer. He had listened, with an attempt at a smile, toall this fiery indignation, but as Mary spoke the last words he wassuddenly aware of something that drew his attention from her and them.Through an opening in Ransford's garden hedge he could see the gardendoor of the Folliots' house across the Close. And at that moment out ofit emerge Folliot himself in conversation with Glassdale!
Without a word, Bryce snatched up his hat from the table of thesummer-house, and went swiftly away--a new scheme, a new idea in hismind.
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