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Page 114
When Bryce had left her, Mary Bewery had gone into the house
to await Ransford's return from town. She meant to tell him
of all that Bryce had said and to beg him to take immediate
steps to set matters right, not only that he himself might be
cleared of suspicion but that Bryce's intrigues might be
brought to an end. She had some hope that Ransford would
bring back satisfactory news; she knew that his hurried visit
to London had some connection with these affairs; and she also
remembered what he had said on the previous night. And so,
controlling her anger at Bryce and her impatience of the whole
situation she waited as patiently as she could until the time
drew near when Ransford might be expected to be seen coming
across the Close. She knew from which direction he would
come, and she remained near the dining-room window looking out
for him. But six o'clock came and she had seen no sign of
him; then, as she was beginning to think that he had missed
the afternoon train she saw him, at the opposite side of the
Close, talking earnestly to Dick, who presently came towards
the house while Ransford turned back into Folliot's garden.
Dick Bewery came hurriedly in. His sister saw at once that he
had just heard news which had had a sobering effect on his
usually effervescent spirits. He looked at her as if he
wondered exactly how to give her his message.
"I saw you with the doctor just now," she said, using the term
by which she and her brother always spoke of their guardian.
"Why hasn't he come home?"
Dick came close to her, touching her arm.
"I say!" he said, almost whispering. "Don't be frightened
--the doctor's all right--but there's something awful just
happened. At Folliot's."
"What" she demanded. "Speak out, Dick! I'm not frightened.
What is it?"
Dick shook his head as if he still scarcely realized the full
significance of his news.
"It's all a licker to me yet!" he answered. "I don't
understand it--I only know what the doctor told me--to come
and tell you. Look here, it's pretty bad. Folliot and Bryce
are both dead!"
In spite of herself Mary started back as from a great shock
and clutched at the table by which they were standing.
"Dead!" she exclaimed. "Why--Bryce was here, speaking to me,
not an hour ago!"
"Maybe," said Dick. "But he's dead now. The fact is, Folliot
shot him with a revolver--killed him on the spot. And then
Folliot poisoned himself--took the same stuff, the doctor
said, that finished that chap Collishaw, and died instantly.
It was in Folliot's old well-house. The doctor was there and
the police."
"What does it all mean?" asked Mary.
"Don't know. Except this," added Dick; "they've found out
about those other affairs--the Braden and the Collishaw
affairs. Folliot was concerned in them; and who do you think
the other was? You'd never guess! That man Fladgate, the
verger. Only that isn't his proper name at all. He and
Folliot finished Braden and Collishaw, anyway. The police
have got Fladgate, and Folliot shot Bryce and killed himself
just when they were going to take him."
"The doctor told you all this?" asked Mary.
"Yes," replied Dick. "Just that and no more. He called me in
as I was passing Folliot's door. He's coming over as soon as
he can. Whew! I say, won't there be some fine talk in the
town! Anyway, things'll be cleared up now. What did Bryce
want here?"
"Never mind; I can't talk of it, now," answered Mary. She was
already thinking of how Bryce had stood before her, active and
alive, only an hour earlier; she was thinking, too, of her
warning to him. "It's all too dreadful! too awful to
understand!"
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