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Page 69
And a moment later he was convinced of another equally certain
fact. Whatever these five men were searching for, they had
no clear or accurate idea of its exact whereabouts. The
master-mason was taking up the small squares of flagstone with
his crowbar one by one, from the outer edge of the foot of the
old box-tomb; as he removed each, he probed the earth beneath
it. And Bryce, who had instinctively realized what was
happening, and knew that somebody else than himself was in
possession of the secret of the scrap of paper, saw that it
would be some time before they arrived at the precise spot
indicated in the Latin directions. He quietly drew back and
tugged at Dick Dewery.
"Stop here, and keep quiet!" he whispered when they had
retreated out of all danger of being overheard. "Watch 'em!
I want to fetch somebody--want to know who that stranger is.
You don't know him?"
"Never seen him before," replied Dick. "I say!--come quietly
back--don't give it away. I want to know what it's all
about."
Bryce squeezed the lad's arm by way of assurance and made his
way back through the bushes. He wanted to get hold of Harker,
and at once, and he hurried round to the old man's house and
without ceremony walked into his parlour. Harker, evidently
expecting him, and meanwhile amusing himself with his pipe and
book, rose from his chair as the younger man entered.
"Found anything?" he asked.
"We're done!" answered Bryce. "I was a fool not to go last
night! We're forestalled, my friend!--that's about it!"
"By--whom?" inquired Harker.
"There are five of them at it, now," replied Bryce.
"Mitchington, a mason, one of the cathedral clergy, a
stranger, and the Duke of Saxonsteade! What do you think of
that?"
Harker suddenly started as if a new light had dawned on him.
"The Duke!" he exclaimed. "You don't say so! My conscience!
--now, I wonder if that can really be? Upon my word, I'd
never thought of it!"
"Thought of what?" demanded Bryce.
"Never mind! tell you later," said Harker. "At present, is
there any chance of getting a look at them?"
"That's what I came for," retorted Bryce. "I've been watching
them, with young Bewery. He put me up to it. Come on! I
want to see if you know the man who's a stranger."
Harker crossed the room to a chest of drawers, and after some
rummaging pulled something out.
"Here!" he said, handing some articles to Bryce. "Put those
on over your boots. Thick felt overshoes--you could walk
round your own mother's bedroom in those and she'd never hear
you. I'll do the same. A stranger, you say? Well, this is a
proof that somebody knows the secret of that scrap of paper
besides us, doctor!"
"They don't know the exact spot," growled Bryce, who was
chafing at having been done out of his discovery. "But,
they'll find it, whatever may be there."
He led Harker back to Paradise and to the place where he had
left Dick Bewery, whom they approached so quietly that Bryce
was by the lad's side before Dick knew he was there. And
Harker, after one glance at the ring of faces, drew Bryce back
and put his lips close to his ear and breathed a name in an
almost imperceptible yet clear whisper.
"Glassdale!"
Bryce started for the third time. Glassdale!--the man whom
Harker had seen in Wrychester within an hour or so of Braden's
death: the ex-convict, the forger, who had forged the Duke of
Saxonsteade's name! And there! standing, apparently quite at
his ease, by the Duke's side. What did it all mean?
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