The Paradise Mystery

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER XIX. THE SUBTLETY OF THE DEVIL

  There was a sudden determination and alertness in Bryce's last wordswhich contrasted strongly, and even strangely, with the almost cynicalindifference that had characterized him since his visitors came in, andthe two men recognized it and glanced questioningly at each other. Therewas an alteration, too, in his manner; instead of lounging lazily in hischair, as if he had no other thought than of personal ease, he was nowsitting erect, looking sharply from one man to the other; his wholeattitude, bearing, speech seemed to indicate that he had suddenly madeup his mind to adopt some definite course of action.

  "I'll tell you more!" he repeated. "And, since you're here--now!"

  Mitchington, who felt a curious uneasiness, gave Jettison anotherglance. And this time it was Jettison who spoke.

  "I should say," he remarked quietly, "knowing what I've gathered of thematter, that we ought to be glad of any information Dr. Bryce can giveus."

  "Oh, to be sure!" assented Mitchington. "You know more, then, doctor?"

  Bryce motioned his visitors to draw their chairs nearer to his, andwhen he spoke it was in the low, concentrated tones of a man who meansbusiness--and confidential business.

  "Now look here, Mitchington," he said, "and you, too, Mr. Jettison, asyou're on this job--I'm going to talk straight to both of you. And tobegin with, I'll make a bold assertion--I know more of this WrychesterParadise mystery--involving the deaths of both Braden and Collishaw,than any man living--because, though you don't know it, Mitchington,I've gone right into it. And I'll tell you in confidence why I went intoit--I want to marry Dr. Ransford's ward, Miss Bewery!"

  Bryce accompanied this candid admission with a look which seemed tosay: Here we are, three men of the world, who know what things are--weunderstand each other! And while Jettison merely nodded comprehendingly,Mitchington put his thoughts into words.

  "To be sure, doctor, to be sure!" he said. "And accordingly--what'stheir affair, is yours! Of course!"

  "Something like that," assented Bryce. "Naturally no man wishes to marryunless he knows as much as he can get to know about the woman he wants,her family, her antecedents--and all that. Now, pretty nearly everybodyin Wrychester who knows them, knows that there's a mystery about Dr.Ransford and his two wards--it's been talked of, no end, amongst the olddowagers and gossips of the Close, particularly--you know what they are!Miss Bewery herself, and her brother, young Dick, in a lesser degree,know there's a mystery. And if there's one man in the world who knowsthe secret, it's Ransford. And, up to now, Ransford won't tell--hewon't even tell Miss Bewery. I know that she's asked him--he keeps up anobstinate silence. And so--I determined to find things out for myself."

  "Aye--and when did you start on that little game, now, doctor?" askedMitchington. "Was it before, or since, this affair developed?"

  "In a really serious way--since," replied Bryce. "What happened on theday of Braden's death made me go thoroughly into the whole matter. Now,what did happen? I'll tell you frankly, now, Mitchington, that when wetalked once before about this affair, I didn't tell you all I mighthave told. I'd my reasons for reticence. But now I'll give you fullparticulars of what happened that morning within my knowledge--payattention, both of you, and you'll see how one thing fits into another.That morning, about half-past nine, Ransford left his surgery and wentacross the Close. Not long after he'd gone, this man Braden came to thedoor, and asked me if Dr. Ransford was in? I said he wasn't--he'd justgone out, and I showed the man in which direction. He said he'd onceknown a Dr. Ransford, and went away. A little later, I followed. Nearthe entrance of Paradise, I saw Ransford leaving the west porch of theCathedral. He was undeniably in a state of agitation--pale, nervous. Hedidn't see me. I went on and met Varner, who told me of the accident.I went with him to the foot of St. Wrytha's Stair and found the man whohad recently called at the surgery. He died just as I reached him.I sent for you. When you came, I went back to the surgery--I foundRansford there in a state of most unusual agitation--he looked like aman who has had a terrible shock. So much for these events. Put themtogether."

  Bryce paused awhile, as if marshalling his facts.

  "Now, after that," he continued presently, "I began to investigatematters myself--for my own satisfaction. And very soon I found outcertain things--which I'll summarize, briefly, because some of my factsare doubtless known to you already. First of all--the man who camehere as John Braden was, in reality, one John Brake. He was at onetime manager of a branch of a well-known London banking company. Heappropriated money from them under apparently mysterious circumstancesof which I, as yet, knew nothing; he was prosecuted, convicted,and sentenced to ten years' penal servitude. And those two wardsof Ransford's, Mary and Richard Bewery, as they are called, are, inreality, Mary and Richard Brake--his children."

  "You've established that as a fact?" asked Jettison, who was listeningwith close attention. "It's not a surmise on your part?"

  Bryce hesitated before replying to this question. After all, hereflected, it was a surmise. He could not positively prove hisassertion.

  "Well," he answered after a moment's thought, "I'll qualify that bysaying that from the evidence I have, and from what I know, I believe itto be an indisputable fact. What I do know of fact, hard, positivefact, is this:--John Brake married a Mary Bewery at the parish church ofBraden Medworth, near Barthorpe, in Leicestershire: I've seen the entryin the register with my own eyes. His best man, who signed the registeras a witness, was Mark Ransford. Brake and Ransford, as young men, hadbeen in the habit of going to Braden Medworth to fish; Mary Bewery wasgoverness at the vicarage there. It was always supposed she would marryRansford; instead, she married Brake, who, of course, took her off toLondon. Of their married life, I know nothing. But within a fewyears, Brake was in trouble, for the reason I have told you. He wasarrested--and Harker was the man who arrested him."

  "Dear me!" exclaimed Mitchington. "Now, if I'd only known--"

  "You'll know a lot before I'm through," said Bryce. "Now, Harker, ofcourse, can tell a lot--yet it's unsatisfying. Brake could make nodefence--but his counsel threw out strange hints and suggestions--all tothe effect that Brake had been cruelly and wickedly deceived--in fact,as it were, trapped into doing what he did. And--by a man whom he'dtrusted as a close friend. So much came to Harker's ears--but no more,and on that particular point I've no light. Go on from that to Brake'sprivate affairs. At the time of his arrest he had a wife and two veryyoung children. Either just before, or at, or immediately after hisarrest they completely disappeared--and Brake himself utterly refusedto say one single word about them. Harker asked if he could doanything--Brake's answer was that no one was to concern himself. Hepreserved an obstinate silence on that point. The clergyman inwhose family Mrs. Brake had been governess saw Brake, after hisconviction--Brake would say nothing to him. Of Mrs. Brake, nothing moreis known--to me at any rate. What was known at the time is this--Brakecommunicated to all who came in contact with him, just then, the ideaof a man who has been cruelly wronged and deceived, who takes refuge insullen silence, and who is already planning and cherishing--revenge!"

  "Aye, aye!" muttered Mitchington. "Revenge?--just So!"

  "Brake, then," continued Bryce, "goes off to his term of penalservitude, and so disappears--until he reappears here in Wrychester.Leave him for a moment, and go back. And--it's a going back, no doubt,to supposition and to theory--but there's reason in what I shalladvance. We know--beyond doubt--that Brake had been tricked anddeceived, in some money matter, by some man--some mysterious man--whomhe referred to as having been his closest friend. We know, too, thatthere was extraordinary mystery in the disappearance of his wife andchildren. Now, from all that has been found out, who was Brake's closestfriend? Ransford! And of Ransford, at that time, there's no trace. He,too, disappeared--that's a fact which I've established. Years later, hereappears--here at Wrychester, where he's bought a practice. Eventuallyhe has two young people, who are represented as his wards, come to livewith him. Their name is Bewery.
The name of the young woman whom JohnBrake married was Bewery. What's the inference? That their mother'sdead--that they're known under her maiden name: that they, without ashadow of doubt, are John Brake's children. And that leads up to mytheory--which I'll now tell you in confidence--if you wish for it."

  "It's what I particularly wish for," observed Jettison quietly. "Thevery thing!"

  "Then, it's this," said Bryce. "Ransford was the close friend whotricked and deceived Brake:

  "He probably tricked him in some money affair, and deceived him in hisdomestic affairs. I take it that Ransford ran away with Brake's wife,and that Brake, sooner than air all his grievance to the world, tookit silently and began to concoct his ideas of revenge. I put thewhole thing this way. Ransford ran away with Mrs. Brake and the twochildren--mere infants--and disappeared. Brake, when he came out ofprison, went abroad--possibly with the idea of tracking them. Meanwhile,as is quite evident, he engaged in business and did well. He came backto England as John Braden, and, for the reason of which you're aware,he paid a visit to Wrychester, utterly unaware that any one known to himlived here. Now, try to reconstruct what happened. He looks round theClose that morning. He sees the name of Dr. Mark Ransford on the brassplate of a surgery door. He goes to the surgery, asks a question, makesa remark, goes away. What is the probable sequence of events? Hemeets Ransford near the Cathedral--where Ransford certainly was. Theyrecognize each other--most likely they turn aside, go up to that galleryas a quiet place, to talk--there is an altercation--blows--somehowor other, probably from accident, Braden is thrown through that opendoorway, to his death. And--Collishaw saw what happened!"

  Bryce was watching his listeners, turning alternately from one to theother. But it needed little attention on his part to see that theirswas already closely strained; each man was eagerly taking in all thathe said and suggested. And he went on emphasizing every point as he madeit.

  "Collishaw saw what happened?" he repeated. "That, of course, istheory--supposition. But now we pass from theory back to actual fact.I'll tell you something now, Mitchington, which you've never heard of,I'm certain. I made it in my way, after Collishaw's death, to getsome information, secretly, from his widow, who's a fairly shrewd,intelligent woman for her class. Now, the widow, in looking over herhusband's effects, in a certain drawer in which he kept various personalmatters, came across the deposit book of a Friendly Society of whichCollishaw had been a member for some years. It appears that he,Collishaw, was something of a saving man, and every year he managed toput by a bit of money out of his wages, and twice or thrice in the yearhe took these savings--never very much; merely a pound or two--to thisFriendly Society, which, it seems, takes deposits in that way from itsmembers. Now, in this book is an entry--I saw it--which shows that onlytwo days before his death, Collishaw paid fifty pounds--fifty pounds,mark you!--into the Friendly Society. Where should Collishaw get fiftypounds, all of a sudden! He was a mason's labourer, earning at the veryoutside twenty-six or eight shillings a week. According to his wife,there was no one to leave him a legacy. She never heard of his receiptof this money from any source. But--there's the fact! What explains it?My theory--that the rumour that Collishaw, with a pint too much ale inhim, had hinted that he could say something about Braden's death if hechose, had reached Braden's assailant; that he had made it his businessto see Collishaw and had paid him that fifty pounds as hush-money--and,later, had decided to rid himself of Collishaw altogether, as heundoubtedly did, by poison."

  Once more Bryce paused--and once more the two listeners showed theirattention by complete silence.

  "Now we come to the question--how was Collishaw poisoned?" continuedBryce. "For poisoned he was, without doubt. Here we go back totheory and supposition once more. I haven't the least doubt that thehydrocyanic acid which caused his death was taken by him in a pill--apill that was in that box which they found on him, Mitchington, andshowed me. But that particular pill, though precisely similar inappearance, could not be made up of the same ingredients which were inthe other pills. It was probably a thickly coated pill which containedthe poison;--in solution of course. The coating would melt almostas soon as the man had swallowed it--and death would resultinstantaneously. Collishaw, you may say, was condemned to death when heput that box of pills in his waistcoat pocket. It was mere chance, mereluck, as to when the exact moment of death came to him. There had beensix pills in that box--there were five left. So Collishaw picked out thepoisoned pill--first! It might have been delayed till the sixth dose,you see--but he was doomed."

  Mitchington showed a desire to speak, and Bryce paused.

  "What about what Ransford said before the Coroner?" asked Mitchington."He demanded certain information about the post-mortem, you know, which,he said, ought to have shown that there was nothing poisonous in thosepills."

  "Pooh!" exclaimed Bryce contemptuously. "Mere bluff! Of such a pill asthat I've described there'd be no trace but the sugar coating--and thepoison. I tell you, I haven't the least doubt that that was how thepoison was administered. It was easy. And--who is there that would knowhow easily it could be administered but--a medical man?"

  Mitchington and Jettison exchanged glances. Then Jettison leaned nearerto Bryce.

  "So your theory is that Ransford got rid of both Braden andCollishaw--murdered both of them, in fact?" he suggested. "Do Iunderstand that's what it really comes to--in plain words?"

  "Not quite," replied Bryce. "I don't say that Ransford meant to killBraden--my notion is that they met, had an altercation, probablya struggle, and that Braden lost his life in it. But as regardsCollishaw--"

  "Don't forget!" interrupted Mitchington. "Varner swore that he sawBraden flung through that doorway! Flung out! He saw a hand."

  "For everything that Varner could prove to the contrary," answeredBryce, "the hand might have been stretched out to pull Braden back.No--I think there may have been accident in that affair. But, as regardsCollishaw--murder, without doubt--deliberate!"

  He lighted another cigarette, with the air of a man who had spoken hismind, and Mitchington, realizing that he had said all he had to say, gotup from his seat.

  "Well--it's all very interesting and very clever, doctor," he said,glancing at Jettison. "And we shall keep it all in mind. Of course,you've talked all this over with Harker? I should like to know what hehas to say. Now that you've told us who he is, I suppose we can talk tohim?"

  "You'll have to wait a few days, then," said Bryce. "He's gone totown--by the last train tonight--on this business. I've sent him. I hadsome information today about Ransford's whereabouts during the time ofdisappearance, and I've commissioned Harker to examine into it. When Ihear what he's found out, I'll let you know."

  "You're taking some trouble," remarked Mitchington.

  "I've told you the reason," answered Bryce.

  Mitchington hesitated a little; then, with a motion of his head towardsthe door, beckoned Jettison to follow him.

  "All right," he said. "There's plenty for us to see into, I'm thinking!"

  Bryce laughed and pointed to a shelf of books near the fireplace.

  "Do you know what Napoleon Bonaparte once gave as sound advice topolice?" he asked. "No! Then I'll tell you. 'The art of the police,'he said, 'is not to see that which it is useless for it to see.' Goodcounsel, Mitchington!"

  The two men went away through the midnight streets, and kept silenceuntil they were near the door of Jettison's hotel. Then Mitchingtonspoke.

  "Well!" he said. "We've had a couple of tales, anyhow! What do you thinkof things, now?"

  Jettison threw back his head with a dry laugh.

  "Never been better puzzled in all my time!" he said. "Never! But--ifthat 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!"