|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 15
"Have you done anything towards finding out who this
unfortunate man is?" asked Ransford, after a brief
examination, as he turned to Mitchington. "Evidently a
stranger--but he probably has papers on him."
"There's nothing on him--except a purse, with plenty of money
in it," answered Mitchington. "I've been through his pockets
myself: there isn't a scrap of paper--not even as much as an
old letter. But he's evidently a tourist, or something of the
sort, and so he'll probably have stayed in the city all night,
and I'm going to inquire at the hotels."
"There'll be an inquest, of course," remarked Ransford
mechanically. "Well--we can do nothing, Mitchington. You'd
better have the body removed to the mortuary." He turned and
looked up the broken stairway at the foot of which they were
standing. "You say he fell down that?" he asked. "Whatever
was he doing up there?"
Mitchington looked at Bryce.
"Haven't you told Dr. Ransford how it was?" he asked.
"No," answered Bryce. He glanced at Ransford, indicating
Varner, who had come back with the constable and was standing
by. "He didn't fall," he went on, watching Ransford narrowly.
"He was violently flung out of that doorway. Varner here saw
it."
Ransford's cheek flushed, and he was unable to repress a
slight start. He looked at the mason.
"You actually saw it!" he exclaimed. "Why, what did you see?"
"Him!" answered Varner, nodding at the dead man. "Flung,
head and heels, clean through that doorway up there. Hadn't
a chance to save himself, he hadn't! Just grabbed at
--nothing!--and came down. Give a year's wages if I hadn't
seen it--and heard him scream."
Ransford was watching Varner with a set, concentrated look.
"Who--flung him?" he asked suddenly. "You say you saw!"
"Aye, sir, but not as much as all that!" replied the mason.
"I just saw a hand--and that was all. But," he added, turning
to the police with a knowing look, "there's one thing I can
swear to--it was a gentleman's hand! I saw the white shirt
cuff and a bit of a black sleeve!"
Ransford turned away. But he just as suddenly turned back to
the inspector.
"You'll have to let the Cathedral authorities know,
Mitchington," he said. "Better get the body removed, though,
first--do it now before the morning service is over. And--let
me hear what you find out about his identity, if you can
discover anything in the city."
He went away then, without another word or a further glance at
the dead man. But Bryce had already assured himself of what
he was certain was a fact--that a look of unmistakable relief
had swept across Ransford's face for the fraction of a second
when he knew that there were no papers on the dead man. He
himself waited after Ransford had gone; waited until the
police had fetched a stretcher, when he personally
superintended the removal of the body to the mortuary outside
the Close. And there a constable who had come over from the
police-station gave a faint hint as to further investigation.
"I saw that poor gentleman last night, sir," he said to the
inspector. "He was standing at the door of the Mitre, talking
to another gentleman--a tallish man."
"Then I'll go across there," said Mitchington. "Come with me,
if you like, Dr. Bryce."
This was precisely what Bryce desired--he was already anxious
to acquire all the information he could get. And he walked
over the way with the inspector, to the quaint old-world inn
which filled almost one side of the little square known as
Monday Market, and in at the courtyard, where, looking out of
the bow window which had served as an outer bar in the
coaching days, they found the landlady of the Mitre, Mrs.
Partingley. Bryce saw at once that she had heard the news.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|