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Page 58
"We can have a peaceful and comfortable talk here, doctor," he
remarked, as he sat down near Bryce, after fetching glasses
and soda-water. "I live all alone, like a hermit--my bit of
work's done by a woman who only looks in of a morning. So
we're all by ourselves. Light your cigar!--same as that I
gave you at Barthorpe. Um--well, now," he continued, as Bryce
settled down to listen. "There's a question I want to put to
you--strictly between ourselves--strictest of confidence, you
know. It was you who was called to Braden by Varner, and you
were left alone with Braden's body?"
"Well?" admitted Bryce, suddenly growing suspicious. "What of
it?"
Harker edged his chair a little closer to his guest's, and
leaned towards him.
"What," he asked in a whisper, "what have you done with that
scrap of paper that you took out of Braden's purse?"
CHAPTER XIV
FROM THE PAST
If any remarkably keen and able observer of the odd
characteristics of humanity had been present in Harker's
little parlour at that moment, watching him and his visitor,
he would have been struck by what happened when the old man
put this sudden and point-blank question to the young one.
For Harker put the question, though in a whisper, in no more
than a casual, almost friendlily-confidential way, and Bryce
never showed by the start of a finger or the flicker of an
eyelash that he felt it to be what he really knew it to be
--the most surprising and startling question he had ever had
put to him. Instead, he looked his questioner calmly in the
eyes, and put a question in his turn.
"Who are you, Mr. Harker?" asked Bryce quietly.
Harker laughed--almost gleefully.
"Yes, you've a right to ask that!" he said. "Of course!--glad
you take it that way. You'll do!"
"I'll qualify it, then," added Bryce. "It's not who--it's
what are you!"
Harker waved his cigar at the book-shelves in front of which
his visitor sat.
"Take a look at my collection of literature, doctor," he said.
"What d'ye think of it?"
Bryce turned and leisurely inspected one shelf after another.
"Seems to consist of little else but criminal cases and legal
handbooks," he remarked quietly. "I begin to suspect you, Mr.
Harker. They say here in Wrychester that you're a retired
tradesman. I think you're a retired policeman--of the
detective branch."
Harker laughed again.
"No Wrychester man has ever crossed my threshold since I came
to settle down here," he said. "You're the first person I've
ever asked in--with one notable exception. I've never even
had Campany, the librarian, here. I'm a hermit."
"But--you were a detective?" suggested Bryce.
"Aye, for a good five-and-twenty years!" replied Harker. "And
pretty well known, too, sir. But--my question, doctor. All
between ourselves!"
"I'll ask you one, then," said Bryce. "How do you know I took
a scrap of paper from Braden's purse?"
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