|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 77
"I'll tell you what I can see," answered Jettison. "I can see
how one bit of this puzzle fits into another--in view of what
Ransford has just told us. Of course, one's got to do a good
deal of supposing it's unavoidable in these cases. Now
supposing Braden let this man Harker into the secret of the
hidden jewels that night, and supposing that Harker and Bryce
are in collusion--as they evidently are, from what that boy
told us--and supposing they between them, together or
separately, had to do with Braden's death, and supposing that
man Collishaw saw some thing that would incriminate one or
both--eh?"
"Well?" asked Mitchington.
"Bryce is a medical man," observed Jettison. "It would be an
easy thing for a medical man to get rid of Collishaw as he
undoubtedly was got rid of. Do you see my point?"
"Aye--and I can see that Bryce is a clever hand at throwing
dust in anybody's eyes!" muttered Mitchington. "I've had some
dealings with him over this affair and I'm beginning to think
--only now!--that he's been having me for the mug! He's
evidently a deep 'un--and so's the other man."
"I wanted to ask you that," said Jettison. "Now, exactly who
are these two?--tell me about them--both."
"Not so much to tell," answered Mitchington. "Harker's a
quiet old chap who lives in a little house over there--just
off that far corner of this Close. Said to be a retired
tradesman, from London. Came here a few years ago, to settle
down. Inoffensive, pleasant old chap. Potters about the
town--puts in his time as such old chaps do--bit of reading at
the libraries--bit of gossip here and--there you know the
sort. Last man in the world I should have thought would have
been mixed up in an affair of this sort!"
"And therefore all the more likely to be!" said Jettison.
"Well--the other?"
"Bryce was until the very day of Braden's appearance,
Ransford's assistant," continued Mitchington. "Been with
Ransford about two years. Clever chap, undoubtedly, but
certainly deep and, in a way, reserved, though he can talk
plenty if he's so minded and it's to his own advantage. He
left Ransford suddenly--that very morning. I don't know why.
Since then he's remained in the town. I've heard that he's
pretty keen on Ransford's ward--sister of that lad we saw
tonight. I don't know myself, if it's true--but I've wondered
if that had anything to do with his leaving Ransford so
suddenly."
"Very likely," said Jettison. They had crossed the Close by
that time and come to a gas-lamp which stood at the entrance,
and the detective pulled out his watch and glanced at it.
"Ten past eleven," he said. "You say you know this Bryce
pretty well? Now, would it be too late--if he's up still--to
take a look at him! If you and he are on good terms, you
could make an excuse. After what I've heard, I'd like to get
at close quarters with this gentleman."
"Easy enough," assented Mitchington. "I've been there as late
as this--he's one of the sort that never goes to bed before
midnight. Come on!--it's close by. But--not a word of where
we've been. I'll say I've dropped in to give him a bit of
news. We'll tell him about the jewel business--and see how he
takes it. And while we're there--size him up!"
Mitchington was right in his description of Bryce's habits
--Bryce rarely went to bed before one o'clock in the morning.
He liked to sit up, reading. His favourite mental food was
found in the lives of statesmen and diplomatists, most of them
of the sort famous for trickery and chicanery--he not only
made a close study of the ways of these gentry but wrote down
notes and abstracts of passages which particularly appealed to
him. His lamp was burning when Mitchington and Jettison came
in view of his windows--but that night Bryce was doing no
thinking about statecraft: his mind was fixed on his own
affairs. He had lighted his fire on going home and for an
hour had sat with his legs stretched out on the fender,
carefully weighing things up. The event of the night had
convinced him that he was at a critical phase of his present
adventure, and it behoved him, as a good general, to review
his forces.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|