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Page 36
"Dr. Bryce?" he said inquiringly. "Dr. Pemberton Bryce?"
Bryce made his best bow and assumed his suavest and most
ingratiating manner.
"I hope I am not intruding on your time, Mr. Gilwaters?" he
said. "The fact is, I was referred to you, yesterday, by the
present vicar of Braden Medworth--both he, and the sexton
there, Claybourne, whom you, of course, remember, thought you
would be able to give me some information on a subject which
is of great importance--to me."
"I don't know the present vicar," remarked Mr. Gilwaters,
motioning Bryce to a chair, and taking another close by.
"Clayborne, of course, I remember very well indeed--he must be
getting an old man now--like myself! What is it you want to
know, now?"
"I shall have to take you into my confidence," replied Bryce,
who had carefully laid his plans and prepared his story, "and
you, I am sure, Mr. Gilwaters, will respect mine. I have for
two years been in practice at Wry Wrychester, and have there
made the acquaintance of a young lady whom I earnestly desire
to marry. She is the ward of the man to whom I have been
assistant. And I think you will begin to see why I have come
to you when I say that this young lady's name is--Mary
Bewery."
The old clergyman started, and looked at his visitor with
unusual interest. He grasped the arm of his elbow chair and
leaned forward.
"Mary Bewery!" he said in a low whisper. "What--what is the
name of the man who is her--guardian?"
"Dr. Mark Ransford," answered Bryce promptly.
The old man sat upright again, with a little toss of his head.
"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "Mark Ransford! Then--it must
have been as I feared--and suspected!"
Bryce made no remark. He knew at once that he had struck on
something, and it was his method to let people take their own
time. Mr. Gilwaters had already fallen into something closely
resembling a reverie: Bryce sat silently waiting and
expectant. And at last the old man leaned forward again,
almost eagerly.
"What is it you want to know?" he asked, repeating his first
question. "Is--is there some--some mystery?"
"Yes!" replied Bryce. "A mystery that I want to solve, sir.
And I dare say that you can help me, if you'll be so good. I
am convinced--in fact, I know!--that this young lady is in
ignorance of her parentage, that Ransford is keeping some
fact, some truth back from her--and I want to find things out.
By the merest chance--accident, in fact--I discovered
yesterday at Braden Medworth that some twenty-two years ago
you married one Mary Bewery, who, I learnt there, was your
governess, to a John Brake, and that Mark Ransford was John
Brake's best man and a witness of the marriage. Now, Mr.
Gilwaters, the similarity in names is too striking to be
devoid of significance. So--it's of the utmost importance to
me!--can or will you tell me--who was the Mary Bewery you
married to John Brake? Who was John Brake? And what was Mark
Ransford to either, or to both?"
He was wondering, all the time during which he reeled off
these questions, if Mr. Gilwaters was wholly ignorant of the
recent affair at Wrychester. He might be--a glance round his
book-filled room had suggested to Bryce that he was much more
likely to be a bookworm than a newspaper reader, and it was
quite possible that the events of the day had small interest
for him. And his first words in reply to Bryce's questions
convinced Bryce that his surmise was correct and that the old
man had read nothing of the Wrychester Paradise mystery, in
which Ransford's name had, of course, figured as a witness at
the inquest.
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