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Page 23
CHAPTER VI
BY MISADVENTURE
Old Simpson Harker, who sat near the librarian's table, his
hands folded on the crook of his stout walking stick, glanced
out of a pair of unusually shrewd and bright eyes at Bryce as
he crossed the room and approached the pair of gossipers.
"I think the doctor was there when that book you're speaking
of was found," he remarked. "So I understood from
Mitchington."
"Yes, I was there," said Bryce, who was not unwilling to join
in the talk. He turned to Campany. "What makes you think
there's a clue--in that?" he asked.
"Why this," answered the librarian. "Here's a man in
possession of an old history of Barthorpe. Barthorpe is a
small market-town in the Midlands--Leicestershire, I believe,
of no particular importance that I know of, but doubtless with
a story of its own. Why should any one but a Barthorpe man,
past or present, be interested in that story so far as to
carry an old account of it with him? Therefore, I conclude
this stranger was a Barthorpe man. And it's at Barthorpe that
I should make inquiries about him."
Simpson Harker made no remark, and Bryce remembered what Mr.
Dellingham had said when the book was found.
"Oh, I don't know!" he replied carelessly. "I don't see that
that follows. I saw the book--a curious old binding and queer
old copper-plates. The man may have picked it up for that
reason--I've bought old books myself for less."
"All the same," retorted Campany, "I should make inquiry at
Barthorpe. You've got to go on probabilities. The
probabilities in this case are that the man was interested in
the book because it dealt with his own town."
Bryce turned away towards a wall on which hung a number of
charts and plans of Wrychester Cathedral and its precincts
--it' was to inspect one of these that he had come to the
Library. But suddenly remembering that there was a question
which he could ask without exciting any suspicion or surmise,
he faced round again on the librarian.
"Isn't there a register of burials within the Cathedral?" he
inquired. "Some book in which they're put down? I was looking
in the Memorials of Wrychester the other day, and I saw some
names I want to trace."
Campany lifted his quill pen and pointed to a case of big
leather-bound volumes in a far corner of the room.
"Third shelf from the bottom, doctor," he replied. "You'll
see two books there--one's the register of all burials within
the Cathedral itself up to date: the other's the register of
those in Paradise and the cloisters. What names are you
wanting to trace?"
But Bryce affected not to hear the last question; he walked
over to the place which Campany had indicated, and taking down
the second book carried it to an adjacent table. Campany
called across the room to him.
"You'll find useful indexes at the end," he said. "They're
all brought up to the present time--from four hundred years
ago, nearly."
Bryce turned to the index at the end of his book--an index
written out in various styles of handwriting. And within a
minute he found the name he wanted--there it was plainly
before him--Richard Jenkins, died March 8th, 1715: buried, in
Paradise, March 10th. He nearly laughed aloud at the ease
with which he was tracing out what at first had seemed a
difficult matter to investigate. But lest his task should
seem too easy, he continued to turn over the leaves of the big
folio, and in order to have an excuse if the librarian should
ask him any further questions, he memorized some of the names
which he saw. And after a while he took the book back to its
shelf, and turned to the wall on which the charts and maps
were hung. There was one there of Paradise, whereon was
marked the site and names of all the tombs and graves in that
ancient enclosure; from it he hoped to ascertain the exact
position and whereabouts of Richard Jenkins's grave.
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