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Page 48
"Oh?" said Bryce. "More in the air? About that business?"
"Just so," assented Mitchington. "To start with, that man
Varner, the mason, has never ceased talking. They say he's
always at it--to the effect that the verdict of the jury at
the inquest was all wrong, and that his evidence was put clean
aside. He persists that he did see--what he swore he saw."
"He'll persist in that to his dying day," said Bryce
carelessly. "If that's all there is--"
"It isn't," interrupted the inspector. "Not by a long chalk!
But Varner's is a direct affirmation--the other matter's a
sort of ugly hint. There's a man named Collishaw, a townsman,
who's been employed as a mason's labourer about the Cathedral
of late. This Collishaw, it seems, was at work somewhere up
in the galleries, ambulatories, or whatever they call those
upper regions, on the very morning of the affair. And the
other night, being somewhat under the influence of drink, and
talking the matter over with his mates at a tavern, he let out
some dark hints that he could tell something if he liked. Of
course, he was pressed to tell them--and wouldn't. Then--so
my informant tells me--he was dared to tell, and became
surlily silent. That, of course, spread, and got to my ears.
I've seen Collishaw."
"Well?" asked Bryce.
"I believe the man does know something," answered Mitchington.
"That's the impression I carried away, anyhow. But--he won't
speak. I charged him straight out with knowing something--but
it was no good. I told him of what I'd heard. All he would
say was that whatever he might have said when he'd got a glass
of beer or so too much, he wasn't going to say anything now
neither for me nor for anybody!"
"Just so!" remarked Bryce. "But--he'll be getting a glass too
much again, some day, and then--then, perhaps he'll add to
what he said before. And--you'll be sure to hear of it."
"I'm not certain of that," answered Mitchington. "I made some
inquiry and I find that Collishaw is usually a very sober and
retiring sort of chap--he'd been lured on to drink when he let
out what he did. Besides, whether I'm right or wrong, I got
the idea into my head that he'd already been--squared!"
"Squared!" exclaimed Bryce. "Why, then, if that affair was
really murder, he'd be liable to being charged as an accessory
after the fact!"
"I warned him of that," replied Mitchington. "Yes, I warned
him solemnly."
"With no effect?" asked Bryce.
"He's a surly sort of man," said Mitchington. "The sort that
takes refuge in silence. He made no answer beyond a growl."
"You really think he knows something?" suggested Bryce.
"Well--if there is anything, it'll come out--in time."
"Oh, it'll come out!" assented Mitchington. "I'm by no means
satisfied with that verdict of the coroner's inquiry. I
believe there was foul play--of some sort. I'm still
following things up--quietly. And--I'll tell you something
--between ourselves--I've made an important discovery. It's
this. On the evening of Braden's arrival at the Mitre he was
out, somewhere, for a whole two hours--by himself."
"I thought we learned from Mrs. Partingley that he and the
other man, Dellingham, spent the evening together?" said
Bryce.
"So we did--but that was not quite so," replied Mitchington.
"Braden went out of the Mitre just before nine o'clock and he
didn't return until a few minutes after eleven. Now, then,
where did he go?"
"I suppose you're trying to find that out?" asked Bryce, after
a pause, during which the listeners heard the caller rise and
make for the door.
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