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Page 84
"Never been better puzzled in all my time!" he said. "Never!
But--if that young doctor's playing a game--then, by the Lord
Harry, inspector, it's a damned deep 'un! And my advice is
--watch the lot!"
CHAPTER XX
JETTISON TAKES A HAND
By breakfast time next morning the man from New Scotland Yard
had accomplished a series of meditations on the confidences
made to him and Mitchington the night before and had
determined on at least one course of action. But before
entering upon it he had one or two important letters to write,
the composition of which required much thought and trouble,
and by the time he had finished them, and deposited them by
his own hand in the General Post Office, it was drawing near
to noon--the great bell of the Cathedral, indeed, was
proclaiming noontide to Wrychester as Jettison turned into the
police-station and sought Mitchington in his office.
"I was just coming round to see if you'd overslept yourself,"
said Mitchington good-humouredly. "We were up pretty late
last night, or, rather, this morning."
"I've had letters to write," said Jettison. He sat down and
picked up a newspaper and cast a casual glance over it. "Got
anything fresh?"
"Well, this much," answered Mitchington. "The two gentlemen
who told us so much last night are both out of town. I made
an excuse to call on them both early this morning--just on
nine o'clock. Dr. Ransford went up to London by the
eight-fifteen.
"Dr. Bryce, says his landlady, went out on his bicycle at
half-past eight--where, she didn't know, but, she fancied,
into the country. However, I ascertained that Ransford is
expected back this evening, and Bryce gave orders for his
usual dinner to be ready at seven o'clock, and so--"
Jettison flung away the newspaper and pulled out his pipe.
"Oh, I don't think they'll run away--either of 'em," he
remarked indifferently. "They're both too cock-sure of their
own ways of looking at things."
"You looked at 'em any more?" asked Mitchington.
"Done a bit of reflecting--yes," replied the detective.
"Complicated affair, my lad! More in it than one would think
at first sight. I'm certain of this quite apart from whatever
mystery there is about the Braden affair and the Collishaw
murder, there's a lot of scheming and contriving been going
on--and is going on!--somewhere, by somebody. Underhand work,
you understand? However, my particular job is the Collishaw
business--and there's a bit of information I'd like to get
hold of at once. Where's the office of that Friendly Society
we heard about last night?"
"That'll be the Wrychester Second Friendly," answered
Mitchington. "There are two such societies in the town--the
first's patronized by small tradesmen and the like; the second
by workingmen. The second does take deposits from its
members. The office is in Fladgate--secretary's name outside
--Mr. Stebbing. What are you after?"
"Tell you later," said Jettison. "Just an idea."
He went leisurely out and across the market square and into
the narrow, old-world street called Fladgate, along which he
strolled as if doing no more than looking about him until he
came to an ancient shop which had been converted into an
office, and had a wire blind over the lower half of its front
window, wherein was woven in conspicuous gilt letters
Wrychester Second Friendly Society--George Stebbing,
Secretary. Nothing betokened romance or mystery in that
essentially humble place, but it was in Jettison's mind that
when he crossed its threshold he was on his way to discovering
something that would possibly clear up the problem on which he
was engaged.
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