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Page 102
"Who's offering the five hundred pound one?" asked Glassdale.
The solicitor paused, looking his man over. He saw at once
that Glassdale had, or believed he had, something to tell--and
was disposed to be unusually cautious about telling it.
"Well," he replied, after a pause. "I believe--in fact, it's
an open secret--that the offer of five hundred pounds is made
by Dr. Ransford."
"And--yours?" inquired Glassdale. "Who's at the back of
yours--a thousand?"
The solicitor smiled.
"You haven't answered my question, Mr. Glassdale," he
observed. "Can you give any information?"
Glassdale threw his questioner a significant glance.
"Whatever information I might give," he said, "I'd only give
to a principal--the principal. From what I've seen and known
of all this, there's more in it than is on the surface. I can
tell something. I knew John Braden--who, of course, was John
Brake--very well, for some years. Naturally, I was in his
confidence."
"About more than the Saxonsteade jewels, you mean?" asked the
solicitor.
"About more than that," assented Glassdale. "Private matters.
I've no doubt I can throw some light--some!--on this Wrychester
Paradise affair. But, as I said just now, I'll only deal with
the principal. I wouldn't tell you, for instance--as your
principal's solicitor."
The solicitor smiled again.
"Your ideas, Mr. Glassdale, appear to fit in with our
principal's," he remarked. "His instructions--strict
instructions--to us are that if anybody turns up who can give
any information, it's not to be given to us, but to--himself!"
"Wise man!" observed Glassdale. "That's just what I feel
about it. It's a mistake to share secrets with more than one
person."
"There is a secret, then!" asked the solicitor, half slyly.
"Might be," replied Glassdale. "Who's your client?"
The solicitor pulled a scrap of paper towards him and wrote a
few words on it. He pushed it towards his caller, and
Glassdale picked it up and read what had been written--Mr.
Stephen Folliot, The Close.
"You'd better go and see him," said the solicitor,
suggestively. "You'll find him reserved enough."
Glassdale read and re-read the name--as if he were
endeavouring to recollect it, or connect it with something.
"What particular reason has this man for wishing to find this
out?" he inquired.
"Can't say, my good sir!" replied the solicitor, with a smile.
"Perhaps he'll tell you. He hasn't told me."
Glassdale rose to take his leave. But with his hand on the
door he turned.
"Is this gentleman a resident in the place?" he asked.
"A well-known townsman," replied the solicitor. "You'll
easily find his house in the Close--everybody knows it."
Glassdale went away then--and walked slowly towards the
Cathedral precincts. On his way he passed two places at which
he was half inclined to call--one was the police-station; the
other, the office of the solicitors who were acting on behalf
of the offerer of five hundred pounds. He half glanced at.
the solicitor's door--but on reflection went forward. A man
who was walking across the Close pointed out the Folliot
residence--Glassdale entered by the garden door, and in
another minute came face to face with Folliot himself, busied,
as usual, amongst his rose-trees.
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