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Page 56
"Of me, of course," suggested Ransford, with another laugh.
He took a turn across the room and suddenly faced round on
Bryce, who had remained standing near the door. "Do you
really mean to tell me that Mitchington is such a fool as to
believe that I would poison a poor working man--and in that
clumsy fashion?" he burst out. "Of course you don't."
"I never said I did," answered Bryce. "I'm only telling you
what Mitchington thinks his grounds for suspecting. He
confided in me because--well, it was I who found Collishaw.
Mitchington is in possession of a box of digestive pills which
you evidently gave Collishaw."
"Bah!" exclaimed Ransford. "The man's a fool! Let him come
and talk to me."
"He won't do that--yet," said Bryce. "But--I'm afraid he'll
bring all this out at the inquest. The fact is--he's
suspicious--what with one thing or another--about the former
affair. He thinks you concealed the truth--whatever it may
be--as regards any knowledge of Braden which you may or mayn't
have."
"I'll tell you what it is!" said Ransford suddenly. "It just
comes to this--I'm suspected of having had a hand--the hand,
if you like!--in Braden's death, and now of getting rid of
Collishaw because Collishaw could prove that I had that hand.
That's about it!"
"A clear way of putting it, certainly," assented Bryce. "But
--there's a very clear way, too, of dissipating any such
ideas."
"What way?" demanded Ransford.
"If you do know anything about the Braden affair--why not
reveal it, and be done with the whole thing," suggested Bryce.
"That would finish matters."
Ransford took a long, silent look at his questioner. And
Bryce looked steadily back--and Mary Bewery anxiously watched
both men.
"That's my business," said Ransford at last. "I'm neither to
be coerced, bullied, or cajoled. I'm obliged to you for
giving me a hint of my--danger, I suppose! And--I don't
propose to say any more."
"Neither do I," said Bryce. "I only came to tell you."
And therewith, having successfully done all that he wanted to
do, he walked out of the room and the house, and Ransford,
standing in the window, his hands thrust in his pockets,
watched him go away across the Close.
"Guardian!" said Mary softly.
Ransford turned sharply.
"Wouldn't it be best," she continued, speaking nervously, "if
--if you do know anything about that unfortunate man--if you
told it? Why have this suspicion fastening itself on you?
You!"
Ransford made an effort to calm himself. He was furiously
angry--angry with Bryce, angry with Mitchington, angry with
the cloud of foolishness and stupidity that seemed to be
gathering.
"Why should I--supposing that I do know something, which I
don't admit--why should I allow myself to be coerced and
frightened by these fools?" he asked. "No man can prevent
suspicion falling on him--it's my bad luck in this instance.
Why should I rush to the police-station and say, 'Here--I'll
blurt out all I know--everything!' Why?"
"Wouldn't that be better than knowing that people are saying
things?" she asked.
"As to that," replied Ransford, "you can't prevent people
saying things--especially in a town like this. If it hadn't
been for the unfortunate fact that Braden came to the surgery
door, nothing would have been said. But what of that?--I have
known hundreds of men in my time--aye, and forgotten them!
No!--I am not going to fall a victim to this device--it all
springs out of curiosity. As to this last affair--it's all
nonsense!"
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