Part 12 (1/2)

Mary Bewery herself had no thought of Bryce in her head when, the morning after that worthy's return to Wrychester, she set out, alone, for the Wrychester Golf Club. It was her habit to go there almost every day, and Bryce was well acquainted with her movements and knew precisely where to waylay her. And empty of Bryce though her mind was, she was not surprised when, at a lonely place on Wrychester Common, Bryce turned the corner of a spinny and met her face to face.

Mary would have pa.s.sed on with no more than a silent recognition--she had made up her mind to have no further speech with her guardian's dismissed a.s.sistant. But she had to pa.s.s through a wicket gate at that point, and Bryce barred the way, with unmistakable purpose. It was plain to the girl that he had laid in wait for her. She was not without a temper of her own, and she suddenly let it out on the offender.

”Do you call this manly conduct, Dr. Bryce?” she demanded, turning an indignant and flushed face on him. ”To waylay me here, when you know that I don't want to have anything more to do with you. Let me through, please--and go away!”

But Bryce kept a hand on the little gate, and when he spoke there was that in his voice which made the girl listen in spite of herself.

”I'm not here on my own behalf,” he said quickly. ”I give you my word I won't say a thing that need offend you. It's true I waited here for you--it's the only place in which I thought I could meet you, alone.

I want to speak to you. It's this--do you know your guardian is in danger?”

Bryce had the gift of plausibility--he could convince people, against their instincts, even against their wills, that he was telling the truth. And Mary, after a swift glance, believed him.

”What danger?” she asked. ”And if he is, and if you know he is--why don't you go direct to him?”

”The most fatal thing in the world to do!” exclaimed Bryce. ”You know him--he can be nasty. That would bring matters to a crisis. And that, in his interest, is just what mustn't happen.”

”I don't understand you,” said Mary.

Bryce leaned nearer to her--across the gate.

”You know what happened last week,” he said in a low voice. ”The strange death of that man--Braden.”

”Well?” she asked, with a sudden look of uneasiness. ”What of it?”

”It's being rumoured--whispered--in the town that Dr. Ransford had something to do with that affair,” answered Bryce.

”Unpleasant--unfortunate--but it's a fact.”

”Impossible!” exclaimed Mary with a heightening colour. ”What could he have to do with it? What could give rise to such foolish--wicked--rumours?”

”You know as well as I do how people talk, how they will talk,” said Bryce. ”You can't stop them, in a place like Wrychester, where everybody knows everybody. There's a mystery around Braden's death--it's no use denying it. n.o.body knows who he was, where he came from, why he came.

And it's being hinted--I'm only telling you what I've gathered--that Dr. Ransford knows more than he's ever told. There are, I'm afraid, grounds.”

”What grounds?” demanded Mary. While Bryce had been speaking, in his usual slow, careful fas.h.i.+on, she had been reflecting--and remembering Ransford's evident agitation at the time of the Paradise affair--and his relief when the inquest was over--and his sending her with flowers to the dead man's grave and she began to experience a sense of uneasiness and even of fear. ”What grounds can there be?” she added. ”Dr. Ransford didn't know that man--had never seen him!”

”That's not certain,” replied Bryce. ”It's said--remember, I'm only repeating things--it's said that just before the body was discovered, Dr. Ransford was seen--seen, mind you!--leaving the west porch of the Cathedral, looking as if he had just been very, much upset. Two persons saw this.”

”Who are they?” asked Mary.

”That I'm not allowed to tell you,” said Bryce, who had no intention of informing her that one person was himself and the other imaginary. ”But I can a.s.sure you that I am certain--absolutely certain!--that their story is true. The fact is--I can corroborate it.”

”You!” she exclaimed.

”I!” replied Bryce. ”I will tell you something that I have never told anybody--up to now. I shan't ask you to respect my confidence--I've sufficient trust in you to know that you will, without any asking.

Listen!--on that morning, Dr. Ransford went out of the surgery in the direction of the Deanery, leaving me alone there. A few minutes later, a tap came at the door. I opened it--and found--a man standing outside!”

”Not--that man?” asked Mary fearfully.

”That man--Braden,” replied Bryce. ”He asked for Dr. Ransford. I said he was out--would the caller leave his name? He said no--he had called because he had once known a Dr. Ransford, years before. He added something about calling again, and he went away--across the Close towards the Cathedral. I saw him again--not very long afterwards--lying in the corner of Paradise--dead!”

Mary Bewery was by this time pale and trembling--and Bryce continued to watch her steadily. She stole a furtive look at him.

”Why didn't you tell all this at the inquest?” she asked in a whisper.