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Page 94
"I'm not permitted to say," answered Sackville. "But," he
added, leaning closer to his companion across the table, "I
can tell you this--there's wheels within wheels! You
understand! And things'll be coming out. Got to! We can't
--as a family--let Ransford lie under that cloud, don't you
know. We must clear him. That's precisely why Mr. Folliot
offered his reward. Ransford, of course, you know, Bryce, is
very much to blame--he ought to have done more himself. And,
of course, as my mother and my stepfather say, if Ransford
won't do things for himself, well, we must do 'em for him! We
couldn't think of anything else."
"Very good of you all, I'm sure," assented Bryce. "Very
thoughtful and kindly."
"Oh, well!" said Sackville, who was incapable of perceiving a
sneer or of knowing when older men were laughing at him.
"It's one of those things that one's got to do--under the
circumstances. Of course, Miss Bewery isn't Dr. Ransford's
daughter, but she's his ward, and we can't allow suspicion to
rest on her guardian. You leave it to me, my boy, and you'll
see how things will be cleared!"
"Doing a bit underground, eh?" asked Bryce.
"Wait a bit!" answered Sackville with a knowing wink. "It's
the least expected that happens--what?"
Bryce replied that Sackville was no doubt right, and began to
talk of other matters. He hung about the club-house until
past three o'clock, and then, being well acquainted with Mary
Bewery's movements from long observation of them, set out to
walk down towards Wrychester, leaving his bicycle behind him.
If he did not meet Mary on the way, he meant to go to the
house. Ransford would be out on his afternoon round of calls;
Dick Bewery would be at school; he would find Mary alone. And
it was necessary that he should see her alone, and at once,
for since morning an entirely new view of affairs had come to
him, based on added knowledge, and he now saw a chance which
he had never seen before. True, he said to himself, as he
walked across the links and over the country which lay between
their edge and Wrychester, he had not, even now, the accurate
knowledge as to the actual murderer of either Braden or
Collishaw that he would have liked, but he knew something that
would enable him to ask Mary Bewery point-blank whether he was
to be friend or enemy. And he was still considering the best
way of putting his case to her when, having failed to meet her
on the way, he at last turned into the Close, and as he
approached Ransford's house, saw Mrs. Folliot leaving it.
Mary Bewery, like Bryce, had been having a day of events. To
begin with, Ransford had received a wire from London, first
thing in the morning, which had made him run, breakfastless,
to catch the next express. He had left Mary to make
arrangements about his day's work, for he had not yet replaced
Bryce, and she had been obliged to seek out another
practitioner who could find time from his own duties to attend
to Ransford's urgent patients. Then she had had to see
callers who came to the surgery expecting to find Ransford
there; and in the middle of a busy morning, Mr. Folliot had
dropped in, to bring her a bunch of roses, and, once admitted,
had shown unmistakable signs of a desire to gossip.
"Ransford out?" he asked as he sat down in the dining-room.
"Suppose he is, this time of day."
"He's away," replied Mary. "He went to town by the first
express, and I have had a lot of bother arranging about his
patients."
"Did he hear about this discovery of the Saxonsteade jewels
before he went?" asked Folliot. "Suppose he wouldn't though
--wasn't known until the weekly paper came out this morning.
Queer business! You've heard, of course?"
"Dr. Short told me," answered Mary. "I don't know any
details."
Folliot looked meditatively at her a moment.
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