The Paradise Mystery by J. S. Fletcher


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Page 32

"Only just to look round," answered Bryce.

"I'm off tomorrow morning--eleven o'clock," said Harker.
"It's a longish journey to Wrychester--for old bones like
mine."

"Oh, you're all right!--worth half a dozen younger men,"
responded Bryce. "You'll see a lot of your contemporaries
out, Mr. Harker. Well--as you've treated me to a very fine
cigar, now you'll let me treat you to a drop of whisky?--they
generally have something of pretty good quality in these
old-fashioned establishments, I believe."

The two travellers sat talking until bedtime--but neither made
any mention of the affair which had recently set all
Wrychester agog with excitement. But Bryce was wondering all
the time if his companion's story of having a friend at
Barthorpe was no more than an excuse, and when he was alone in
his own bedroom and reflecting more seriously he came to the
conclusion that old Harker was up to some game of his own in
connection with the Paradise mystery.

"The old chap was in the Library when Ambrose Campany said
that there was a clue in that Barthorpe history," he mused.
"I saw him myself examining the book after the inquest. No,
no, Mr. Harker!--the facts are too plain--the evidences too
obvious. And yet--what interest has a retired old tradesman
of Wrychester got in this affair? I'd give a good deal to
know what Harker really is doing here--and who his Barthorpe
friend is."

If Bryce had risen earlier next morning, and had taken the
trouble to track old Harker's movements, he would have learnt
something that would have made him still more suspicious. But
Bryce, seeing no reason for hurry, lay in bed till well past
nine o'clock, and did not present himself in the coffee-room
until nearly half-past ten. And at that hour Simpson Harker,
who had breakfasted before nine, was in close consultation
with his friend--that friend being none other than the local
superintendent of police, who was confidentially closeted with
the old man in his private house, whither Harker, by previous
arrangement, had repaired as soon as his breakfast was over.
Had Bryce been able to see through walls or hear through
windows, he would have been surprised to find that the Harker
of this consultation was not the quiet, easy-going, gossipy old
gentleman of Wrychester, but an eminently practical and
business-like man of affairs.

"And now as regards this young fellow who's staying across
there at the Peacock," he was saying in conclusion, at the
very time that Bryce was leisurely munching his second mutton
chop in the Peacock coffee-room, "he's after something or
other--his talk about coming here to see after a practice is
all lies!--and you'll keep an eye on him while he's in your
neighbourhood. Put your best plainclothes man on to him at
once--he'll easily know him from the description I gave you
--and let him shadow him wherever he goes. And then let me
know of his movement--he's certainly on the track of
something, and what he does may be useful to me--I can link it
up with my own work. And as regards the other matter--keep me
informed if you come on anything further. Now I'll go out by
your garden and down the back of the town to the station. Let
me know, by the by, when this young man at the Peacock leaves
here, and, if possible--and you can find out--for where."

Bryce was all unconscious that any one was interested in his
movements when he strolled out into Barthorpe market-place
just after eleven. He had asked a casual question of the
waiter and found that the old gentleman had departed--he
accordingly believed himself free from observation. And
forthwith he set about his work of inquiry in his own fashion.
He was not going to draw any attention to himself by asking
questions of present-day inhabitants, whose curiosity might
then be aroused; he knew better methods than that. Every
town, said Bryce to himself, possesses public records--parish
registers, burgess rolls, lists of voters; even small towns
have directories which are more or less complete--he could
search these for any mention or record of anybody or any
family of the name of Braden. And he spent all that day in
that search, inspecting numerous documents and registers and
books, and when evening came he had a very complete
acquaintance with the family nomenclature of Barthorpe, and he
was prepared to bet odds against any one of the name of Braden
having lived there during the past half-century. In all his
searching he had not once come across the name.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 10th Jul 2025, 19:58