The Paradise Mystery

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER XIII. BRYCE IS ASKED A QUESTION

  Mitchington stepped aside into a private room, motioning Bryce to followhim. He carefully closed the door, and looking significantly at hiscompanion, repeated his last words, with a shake of the head.

  "Poisoned!--without the very least doubt," he whispered. "Hydrocyanicacid--which, I understand, is the same thing as what's commonly calledprussic acid. They say then hadn't the least difficulty in finding thatout! so there you are."

  "That's what Coates has told you, of course?" asked Bryce. "After theautopsy?"

  "Both of 'em told me--Coates, and Everest, who helped him," repliedMitchington. "They said it was obvious from the very start. And--I say!"

  "Well?" said Bryce.

  "It wasn't in that tin bottle, anyway," remarked Mitchington, who wasevidently greatly weighted with mystery.

  "No!--of course it wasn't!" affirmed Bryce. "Good Heavens, man--I knowthat!"

  "How do you know?" asked Mitchington.

  "Because I poured a few drops from that bottle into my hand when I firstfound Collishaw and tasted the stuff," answered Bryce readily. "Coldtea! with too much sugar in it. There was no H.C.N. in that besides,wherever it is, there's always a smell stronger or fainter--of bitteralmonds. There was none about that bottle."

  "Yet you were very anxious that we should take care of the bottle?"observed Mitchington.

  "Of course!--because I suspected the use of some much rarer poisonthan that," retorted Bryce. "Pooh!--it's a clumsy way of poisoninganybody!--quick though it is."

  "Well, there's where it is!" said Mitchington. "That'll be the medicalevidence at the inquest, anyway. That's how it was done. And thequestion now is--"

  "Who did it?" interrupted Bryce. "Precisely! Well--I'll say this muchat once, Mitchington. Whoever did it was either a big bungler--or damnedclever! That's what I say!"

  "I don't understand you," said Mitchington.

  "Plain enough--my meaning," replied Bryce, smiling. "To finish anybodywith that stuff is easy enough--but no poison is more easily detected.It's an amateurish way of poisoning anybody--unless you can do it insuch a fashion that no suspicion can attach you to. And in this caseit's here--whoever administered that poison to Collishaw must have beencertain--absolutely certain, mind you!--that it was impossible for anyone to find out that he'd done so. Therefore, I say what I said--the manmust be damned clever. Otherwise, he'd be found out pretty quick. Andall that puzzles me is--how was it administered?"

  "How much would kill anybody--pretty quick?" asked Mitchington.

  "How much? One drop would cause instantaneous death!" answered Bryce."Cause paralysis of the heart, there and then, instantly!"

  Mitchington remained silent awhile, looking meditatively at Bryce. Thenhe turned to a locked drawer, produced a key, and took something out ofthe drawer--a small object, wrapped in paper.

  "I'm telling you a good deal, doctor," he said. "But as you know so muchalready, I'll tell you a bit more. Look at this!"

  He opened his hand and showed Bryce a small cardboard pill-box, acrossthe face of which a few words were written--One after meals--Mr.Collishaw.

  "Whose handwriting's that?" demanded Mitchington.

  Bryce looked closer, and started.

  "Ransford's!" he muttered. "Ransford--of course!"

  "That box was in Collishaw's waistcoat pocket," said Mitchington. "Thereare pills inside it, now. See!" He took off the lid of the box andrevealed four sugar-coated pills. "It wouldn't hold more than six,this," he observed.

  Bryce extracted a pill and put his nose to it, after scratching a littleof the sugar coating away.

  "Mere digestive pills," he announced.

  "Could--it!--have been given in one of these?" asked Mitchington.

  "Possible," replied Bryce. He stood thinking for a moment. "Have youshown those things to Coates and Everest?" he asked at last.

  "Not yet," replied Mitchington. "I wanted to find out, first, ifRansford gave this box to Collishaw, and when. I'm going to Collishaw'shouse presently--I've certain inquiries to make. His widow'll know aboutthese pills."

  "You're suspecting Ransford," said Bryce. "That's certain!"

  Mitchington carefully put away the pill-box and relocked the drawer.

  "I've got some decidedly uncomfortable ideas--which I'd much rather nothave--about Dr. Ransford," he said. "When one thing seems to fit intoanother, what is one to think. If I were certain that that rumour whichspread, about Collishaw's knowledge of something--you know, had got toRansford's ears--why, I should say it looked very much as if Ransfordwanted to stop Collishaw's tongue for good before it could say more--andnext time, perhaps, something definite. If men once begin to hint thatthey know something, they don't stop at hinting. Collishaw might havespoken plainly before long--to us!"

  Bryce asked a question about the holding of the inquest and went away.And after thinking things over, he turned in the direction of theCathedral, and made his way through the Cloisters to the Close. Hewas going to make another move in his own game, while there was a goodchance. Everything at this juncture was throwing excellent cardsinto his hand--he would be foolish, he thought, not to play them toadvantage. And so he made straight for Ransford's house, and before hereached it, met Ransford and Mary Bewery, who were crossing the Closefrom another point, on their way from the railway station, whitherMary had gone especially to meet her guardian. They were in such deepconversation that Bryce was close upon them before they observedhis presence. When Ransford saw his late assistant, he scowledunconsciously--Bryce, and the interview of the previous afternoon, hadbeen much in his thoughts all day, and he had an uneasy feeling thatBryce was playing some game. Bryce was quick to see that scowl--and toobserve the sudden start which Mary could not repress--and he was justas quick to speak.

  "I was going to your house, Dr. Ransford," he remarked quietly. "I don'twant to force my presence on you, now or at any time--but I think you'dbetter give me a few minutes."

  They were at Ransford's garden gate by that time, and Ransford flung itopen and motioned Bryce to follow. He led the way into the dining-room,closed the door on the three, and looked at Bryce. Bryce took the glanceas a question, and put another, in words.

  "You've heard of what's happened during the day?" he said.

  "About Collishaw--yes," answered Ransford. "Miss Bewery has just toldme--what her brother told her. What of it?"

  "I have just come from the police-station," said Bryce. "Coates andEverest have carried out an autopsy this afternoon. Mitchington told methe result."

  "Well?" demanded Ransford, with no attempt to conceal his impatience."And what then?"

  "Collishaw was poisoned," replied Bryce, watching Ransford with acloseness which Mary did not fail to observe. "H.C.N. No doubt at allabout it."

  "Well--and what then?" asked Ransford, still more impatiently. "To beexplicit--what's all this to do with me?"

  "I came here to do you a service," answered Bryce. "Whether you liketo take it or not is your look-out. You may as well know it you're indanger. Collishaw is the man who hinted--as you heard yesterday in myrooms--that he could say something definite about the Braden affair--ifhe liked."

  "Well?" said Ransford.

  "It's known--to the police--that you were at Collishaw's house earlythis morning," said Bryce. "Mitchington knows it."

  Ransford laughed.

  "Does Mitchington know that I overheard what he said to you, yesterdayafternoon?" he inquired.

  "No, he doesn't," answered Bryce. "He couldn't possibly know unlessI told him. I haven't told him--I'm not going to tell him. But--he'ssuspicious already."

  "Of me, of course," suggested Ransford, with another laugh. He took aturn across the room and suddenly faced round on Bryce, who had remainedstanding near the door. "Do you really mean to tell me that Mitchingtonis such a fool as to believe that I would poison a poor working man--andin that clumsy fashion?" he burst out. "Of course you don't."

  "I never said I did," answered Bryce. "I
'm only telling you whatMitchington thinks his grounds for suspecting. He confided in mebecause--well, it was I who found Collishaw. Mitchington is inpossession of a box of digestive pills which you evidently gaveCollishaw."

  "Bah!" exclaimed Ransford. "The man's a fool! Let him come and talk tome."

  "He won't do that--yet," said Bryce. "But--I'm afraid he'll bring allthis out at the inquest. The fact is--he's suspicious--what with onething or another--about the former affair. He thinks you concealed thetruth--whatever it may be--as regards any knowledge of Braden which youmay or mayn't have."

  "I'll tell you what it is!" said Ransford suddenly. "It just comes tothis--I'm suspected of having had a hand--the hand, if you like!--inBraden's death, and now of getting rid of Collishaw because Collishawcould prove that I had that hand. That's about it!"

  "A clear way of putting it, certainly," assented Bryce. "But--there's avery clear way, too, of dissipating any such ideas."

  "What way?" demanded Ransford.

  "If you do know anything about the Braden affair--why not reveal it,and be done with the whole thing," suggested Bryce. "That would finishmatters."

  Ransford took a long, silent look at his questioner. And Bryce lookedsteadily back--and Mary Bewery anxiously watched both men.

  "That's my business," said Ransford at last. "I'm neither to becoerced, bullied, or cajoled. I'm obliged to you for giving me a hint ofmy--danger, I suppose! And--I don't propose to say any more."

  "Neither do I," said Bryce. "I only came to tell you."

  And therewith, having successfully done all that he wanted to do, hewalked out of the room and the house, and Ransford, standing in thewindow, his hands thrust in his pockets, watched him go away across theClose.

  "Guardian!" said Mary softly.

  Ransford turned sharply.

  "Wouldn't it be best," she continued, speaking nervously, "if--if you doknow anything about that unfortunate man--if you told it? Why have thissuspicion fastening itself on you? You!"

  Ransford made an effort to calm himself. He was furiously angry--angrywith Bryce, angry with Mitchington, angry with the cloud of foolishnessand stupidity that seemed to be gathering.

  "Why should I--supposing that I do know something, which I don'tadmit--why should I allow myself to be coerced and frightened by thesefools?" he asked. "No man can prevent suspicion falling on him--it's mybad luck in this instance. Why should I rush to the police-station andsay, 'Here--I'll blurt out all I know--everything!' Why?"

  "Wouldn't that be better than knowing that people are saying things?"she asked.

  "As to that," replied Ransford, "you can't prevent people sayingthings--especially in a town like this. If it hadn't been for theunfortunate fact that Braden came to the surgery door, nothing wouldhave been said. But what of that?--I have known hundreds of men in mytime--aye, and forgotten them! No!--I am not going to fall a victimto this device--it all springs out of curiosity. As to this lastaffair--it's all nonsense!"

  "But--if the man was really poisoned?" suggested Mary.

  "Let the police find the poisoner!" said Ransford, with a grim smile."That's their job."

  Mary said nothing for a moment, and Ransford moved restlessly about theroom.

  "I don't trust that fellow Bryce," he said suddenly. "He's up tosomething. I don't forget what he said when I bundled him out thatmorning."

  "What?" she asked.

  "That he would be a bad enemy," answered Ransford. "He's posing now as afriend--but a man's never to be so much suspected as when he comesdoing what you may call unnecessary acts of friendship. I'd rather thatanybody was mixed up in my affairs--your affairs--than Pemberton Bryce!"

  "So would I!" she said. "But--"

  She paused there a moment and then looked appealingly at Ransford.

  "I do wish you'd tell me--what you promised to tell me," she said. "Youknow what I mean--about me and Dick. Somehow--I don't quite know how orwhy--I've an uneasy feeling that Bryce knows something, and that he'smixing it all up with--this! Why not tell me--please!"

  Ransford, who was still marching about the room, came to a halt, andleaning his hands on the table between them, looked earnestly at her.

  "Don't ask that--now!" he said. "I can't--yet. The fact is, I'm waitingfor something--some particulars. As soon as I get them, I'll speak toyou--and to Dick. In the meantime--don't ask me again--and don't beafraid. And as to this affair, leave it to me--and if you meet Bryceagain, refuse to discuss any thing with him. Look here!--there'sonly one reason why he professes friendliness and a desire to save meannoyance. He thinks he can ingratiate himself with--you!"

  "Mistaken!" murmured Mary, shaking her head. "I don't trust him.And--less than ever because of yesterday. Would an honest man have donewhat he did? Let that police inspector talk freely, as he did, withpeople concealed behind a curtain? And--he laughed about it! I hatedmyself for being there--yet could we help it?"

  "I'm not going to hate myself on Pemberton Bryce's account," saidRansford. "Let him play his game--that he has one, I'm certain."

  Bryce had gone away to continue his game--or another line of it. TheCollishaw matter had not made him forget the Richard Jenkins tomb, andnow, after leaving Ransford's house, he crossed the Close to Paradisewith the object of doing a little more investigation. But at the archwayof the ancient enclosure he met old Simpson Harker, pottering about inhis usual apparently aimless fashion. Harker smiled at sight of Bryce.

  "Ah, I was wanting to have a word with you, doctor!" he said. "Somethingimportant. Have you got a minute or two to spare, sir? Come round to mylittle place, then--we shall be quiet there."

  Bryce had any amount of time to spare for an interesting person likeHarker, and he followed the old man to his house--a tiny place set ina nest of similar old-world buildings behind the Close. Harker ledhim into a little parlour, comfortable and snug, wherein were severalshelves of books of a curiously legal and professional-looking aspect,some old pictures, and a cabinet of odds and ends, stowed away in ofdark corner. The old man motioned him to an easy chair, and going overto a cupboard, produced a decanter of whisky and a box of cigars.

  "We can have a peaceful and comfortable talk here, doctor," he remarked,as he sat down near Bryce, after fetching glasses and soda-water. "Ilive all alone, like a hermit--my bit of work's done by a woman whoonly looks in of a morning. So we're all by ourselves. Light yourcigar!--same as that I gave you at Barthorpe. Um--well, now," hecontinued, as Bryce settled down to listen. "There's a question I wantto put to you--strictly between ourselves--strictest of confidence, youknow. It was you who was called to Braden by Varner, and you were leftalone 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 leanedtowards him.

  "What," he asked in a whisper, "what have you done with that scrap ofpaper that you took out of Braden's purse?"