The Paradise Mystery

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER XVI. BEFOREHAND

  In accordance with his undeniable capacity for contriving and scheming,Bryce had made due and careful preparations for his visit to the tombof Richard Jenkins. Even in the momentary confusion following upon hisdiscovery of Collishaw's dead body, he had been sufficiently alive tohis own immediate purposes to notice that the tomb--a very ancient anddilapidated structure--stood in the midst of a small expanse of stonepavement between the yew-trees and the wall of the nave; he had noticedalso that the pavement consisted of small squares of stone, someof which bore initials and dates. A sharp glance at the presumedwhereabouts of the particular spot which he wanted, as indicated in thescrap of paper taken from Braden's purse, showed him that he would haveto raise one of those small squares--possibly two or three of them.And so he had furnished himself with a short crowbar of tempered steel,specially purchased at the iron-monger's, and with a small bull's-eyelantern. Had he been arrested and searched as he made his way towardsthe cathedral precincts he might reasonably have been suspected of adesign to break into the treasury and appropriate the various ornamentsfor which Wrychester was famous. But Bryce feared neither arrest norobservation. During his residence in Wrychester he had done a good dealof prowling about the old city at night, and he knew that Paradise, atany time after dark, was a deserted place. Folk might cross from theclose archway to the wicket-gate by the outer path, but no one wouldpenetrate within the thick screen of yew and cypress when night hadfallen. And now, in early summer, the screen of trees and bushes was sothick in leaf, that once within it, foliage on one side, the great wallsof the nave on the other, there was little likelihood of any personoverlooking his doings while he made his investigation. He anticipated aswift and quiet job, to be done in a few minutes.

  But there was another individual in Wrychester who knew just as much ofthe geography of Paradise as Pemberton Bryce knew. Dick Bewery andBetty Campany had of late progressed out of the schoolboy and schoolgirlhail-fellow-well-met stage to the first dawnings of love, and in spiteof their frequent meetings had begun a romantic correspondence betweeneach other, the joy and mystery of which was increased a hundredfoldby a secret method of exchange of these missives. Just within thewicket-gate entrance of Paradise there was an old monument wherein was aconvenient cavity--Dick Bewery's ready wits transformed this into love'spost-office. In it he regularly placed letters for Betty: Betty stuffedinto it letters for him. And on this particular evening Dick had goneto Paradise to collect a possible mail, and as Bryce walked leisurely upthe narrow path, enclosed by trees and old masonry which led from FriaryLane to the ancient enclosure, Dick turned a corner and ran full intohim. In the light of the single lamp which illumined the path, the tworecovered themselves and looked at each other.

  "Hullo!" said Bryce. "What's your hurry, young Bewery?"

  Dick, who was panting for breath, more from excitement than haste, drewback and looked at Bryce. Up to then he knew nothing much against Bryce,whom he had rather liked in the fashion in which boys sometimes liketheir seniors, and he was not indisposed to confide in him.

  "Hullo!" he replied. "I say! Where are you off to?"

  "Nowhere!--strolling round," answered Bryce. "No particular purpose,why?"

  "You weren't going in--there?" asked Dick, jerking a thumb towardsParadise.

  "In--there!" exclaimed Bryce. "Good Lord, no!--dreary enough in thedaytime! What should I be going in there for?"

  Dick seized Bryce's coat-sleeve and dragged him aside.

  "I say!" he whispered. "There's something up in there--a search of somesort!"

  Bryce started in spite of an effort to keep unconcerned.

  "A search? In there?" he said. "What do you mean?"

  Dick pointed amongst the trees, and Bryce saw the faint glimmer of alight.

  "I was in there--just now," said Dick. "And some men--three orfour--came along. They're in there, close up by the nave, just where youfound that chap Collishaw. They're--digging--or something of that sort!"

  "Digging!" muttered Bryce. "Digging?"'

  "Something like it, anyhow," replied Dick. "Listen."

  Bryce heard the ring of metal on stone. And an unpleasant convictionstole over him that he was being forestalled, that somebody wasbeforehand with him, and he cursed himself for not having done theprevious night what he had left undone till this night.

  "Who are they?" he asked. "Did you see them--their faces?"

  "Not their faces," answered Dick. "Only their figures in the gloom. ButI heard Mitchington's voice."

  "Police, then!" said Bryce. "What on earth are they after?"

  "Look here!" whispered Dick, pulling at Bryce's arm again. "Come on! Iknow how to get in there without their seeing us. You follow me."

  Bryce followed readily, and Dick stepping through the wicket-gate,seized his companion's wrist and led him amongst the bushes in thedirection of the spot from whence came the metallic sounds. He walkedwith the step of a cat, and Bryce took pains to follow his example.And presently from behind a screen of cypresses they looked out on theexpanse of flagging in the midst of which stood the tomb of RichardJenkins.

  Round about that tomb were five men whose faces were visible enough inthe light thrown by a couple of strong lamps, one of which stood on thetomb itself, while the other was set on the ground. Four out of the fivethe two watchers recognized at once. One, kneeling on the flags, andbusy with a small crowbar similar to that which Bryce carried inside hisovercoat, was the master-mason of the cathedral. Another, standingnear him, was Mitchington. A third was a clergyman--one of the lesserdignitaries of the Chapter. A fourth--whose presence made Bryce startfor the second time that evening--was the Duke of Saxonsteade. But thefifth was a stranger--a tall man who stood between Mitchington andthe Duke, evidently paying anxious attention to the master-mason'sproceedings. He was no Wrychester man--Bryce was convinced of that.

  And a moment later he was convinced of another equally certain fact.Whatever these five men were searching for, they had no clear oraccurate idea of its exact whereabouts. The master-mason was taking upthe small squares of flagstone with his crowbar one by one, from theouter edge of the foot of the old box-tomb; as he removed each, heprobed the earth beneath it. And Bryce, who had instinctively realizedwhat was happening, and knew that somebody else than himself was inpossession of the secret of the scrap of paper, saw that it would besome time before they arrived at the precise spot indicated in the Latindirections. He quietly drew back and tugged at Dick Bewery.

  "Stop here, and keep quiet!" he whispered when they had retreated outof all danger of being overheard. "Watch 'em! I want to fetchsomebody--want to know who that stranger is. You don't know him?"

  "Never seen him before," replied Dick. "I say!--come quietly back--don'tgive 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 backthrough the bushes. He wanted to get hold of Harker, and at once, andhe hurried round to the old man's house and without ceremony walkedinto his parlour. Harker, evidently expecting him, and meanwhile amusinghimself with his pipe and book, rose from his chair as the younger manentered.

  "Found anything?" he asked.

  "We're done!" answered Bryce. "I was a fool not to go last night! We'reforestalled, 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 ofSaxonsteade! 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, Iwonder 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 anychance of getting a look at them?"

  "That's what I came for," retorted Bryce. "I've been watching them, withyoung Bewery. He put me up to it. Come on! I want t
o see if you know theman who's a stranger."

  Harker crossed the room to a chest of drawers, and after some rummagingpulled something out.

  "Here!" he said, handing some articles to Bryce. "Put those on overyour boots. Thick felt overshoes--you could walk round your own mother'sbedroom 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 thatscrap of paper besides us, doctor!"

  "They don't know the exact spot," growled Bryce, who was chafing athaving been done out of his discovery. "But, they'll find it, whatevermay be there."

  He led Harker back to Paradise and to the place where he had left DickBewery, whom they approached so quietly that Bryce was by the lad's sidebefore Dick knew he was there. And Harker, after one glance at the ringof faces, drew Bryce back and put his lips close to his ear and breatheda name in an almost imperceptible yet clear whisper.

  "Glassdale!"

  Bryce started for the third time. Glassdale!--the man whom Harkerhad seen in Wrychester within an hour or so of Braden's death: theex-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?

  There was no explanation of what it meant to be had from the man whomBryce and Harker and Dick Bewery secretly watched from behind the screenof cypress trees. Four of them watched in silence, or with no more thana whispered word now and then while the fifth worked. This man workedmethodically, replacing each stone as he took it up and examined thesoil beneath it. So far nothing had resulted, but he was by thattime working at some distance from the tomb, and Bryce, who had anexceedingly accurate idea of where the spot might be, as indicatedin the measurements on the scrap of paper, nudged Harker as themaster-mason began to take up the last of the small flags. And suddenlythere was a movement amongst the watchers, and the master-mason lookedup from his job and motioned Mitchington to pass him a trowel which layat a little distance.

  "Something here!" he said, loudly enough to reach the ears of Bryce andhis companions. "Not so deep down, neither, gentlemen!"

  A few vigorous applications of the trowel, a few lumps of earth castout of the cavity, and the master-mason put in his hand and drew fortha small parcel, which in the light of the lamp held close to it byMitchington looked to be done up in coarse sacking, secured by greatblotches of black sealing wax. And now it was Harker who nudged Bryce,drawing his attention to the fact that the parcel, handed by themaster-mason to Mitchington was at once passed on by Mitchington to theDuke of Saxonsteade, who, it was very plain to see, appeared to be asmuch delighted as surprised at receiving it.

  "Let us go to your office, inspector," he said. "We'll examine thecontents there. Let us all go at once!"

  The three figures behind the cypress trees remained immovable and silentuntil the five searchers had gone away with their lamps and tools andthe sound of their retreating footsteps in Friary Lane had died out.Then Dick Bewery moved and began to slip off, and Bryce reached out ahand and took him by the shoulder.

  "I say, Bewery!" he said. "Going to tell all that?"

  Harker got in a word before Dick could answer.

  "No matter if he does, doctor," he remarked quietly. "Whatever it is,the whole town'll know of it by tomorrow. They'll not keep it back."

  Bryce let Dick go, and the boy immediately darted off in the directionof the close, while the two men went towards Harker's house. Neitherspoke until they were safe in the old detective's little parlour, thenHarker, turning up his lamp, looked at Bryce and shook his head.

  "It's a good job I've retired!" he said, almost sadly. "I'm getting tooold for my trade, doctor. Once upon a time I should have been fit tokick myself for not having twigged the meaning of this business soonerthan I have done!"

  "Have you twigged it?" demanded Bryce, almost scornfully. "You're agood deal cleverer than I am if you have. For hang me if I know what itmeans!"

  "I do!" answered Harker. He opened a drawer in his desk and drew outa scrap-book, filled, as Bryce saw a moment later, with cuttings fromnewspapers, all duly arranged and indexed. The old man glanced at theindex, turned to a certain page, and put his finger on an entry. "Thereyou are!" he said. "And that's only one--there are several more. They'lltell you in detail what I can tell you in a few words and what I oughtto have remembered. It's fifteen years since the famous robbery atSaxonsteade which has never been accounted for--robbery of the Duchess'sdiamonds--one of the cleverest burglaries ever known, doctor. They weregot one night after a grand ball there; no arrest was ever made, theywere never traced. And I'll lay all I'm worth to a penny-piece that theDuke and those men are gladding their eyes with the sight of them justnow!--in Mitchington's office--and that the information that they werewhere they've just been found was given to the Duke by--Glassdale!"

  "Glassdale! That man!" exclaimed Bryce, who was puzzling his brain overpossible developments.

  "That man, sir!" repeated Harker. "That's why Glassdale was inWrychester the day of Braden's death. And that's why Braden, or Brake,came to Wrychester at all. He and Glassdale, of course, had somehowcome into possession of the secret, and no doubt meant to tell the Duketogether, and get the reward--there was 95,000 offered! And as Brake'sdead, Glassdale's spoken, but"--here the old man paused and gave hiscompanion a shrewd look--"the question still remains: How did Brake cometo his end?"