The Paradise Mystery Part 29

"John Brake, ex bank-manager," answered Bryce promptly. "I know all about it. I've been deeply interested and concerned in his death. And I'll tell you why. I want to marry his daughter."

Gla.s.sdale turned and stared at his companion.

"His daughter!" he exclaimed. "Brake's daughter! G.o.d bless my soul! I never knew he had a daughter!"

It was Bryce's turn to stare now. He looked at Gla.s.sdale incredulously.

"Do you mean to tell me that you knew Brake all those years and that he never mentioned his children?" he exclaimed.

"Never a word of 'em!" replied Gla.s.sdale. "Never knew he had any!"

"Did he never speak of his past?" asked Bryce.

"Not in that respect," answered Gla.s.sdale. "I'd no idea that he was--or had been--a married man. He certainly never mentioned wife nor children to me, sir, and yet I knew Brake about as intimately as two men can know each other for some years before we came back to England."

Bryce fell into one of his fits of musing. What could be the meaning of this extraordinary silence on Brake's part? Was there still some hidden secret, some other mystery at which he had not yet guessed?

"Odd!" he remarked at last after a long pause during which Gla.s.sdale had watched him curiously. "But, did he ever speak to you of an old friend of his named Ransford--a doctor?"

"Never!" said Gla.s.sdale. "Never mentioned such a man!"

Bryce reflected again, and suddenly determined to be explicit.

"John Brake, the bank manager," he said, "was married at a place called Braden Medworth, in Leicestershire, to a girl named Mary Bewery. He had two children, who would be, respectively, about four and one years of age when his--we'll call it misfortune--happened. That's a fact!"

"First I ever heard of it, then," said Gla.s.sdale. "And that's a fact, too!"

"He'd also a very close friend named Ransford--Mark Ransford," continued Bryce. "This Ransford was best man at Brake's wedding."

"Never heard him speak of Ransford, nor of any wedding!" affirmed Gla.s.sdale. "All news to me, doctor."

"This Ransford is now in practice in Wrychester," said Bryce. "And he has two young people living with him as his wards--a girl of twenty, a boy of seventeen--who are, without doubt, John Brake's children. It is the daughter that I want to marry."

Gla.s.sdale shook his head as if in sheer perplexity.

"Well, all I can say is, you surprise me!" he remarked. "I'd no idea of any such thing."

"Do you think Brake came to Wrychester because of that?" asked Bryce.

"How can I answer that, sir, when I tell you that I never heard him breathe one word of any children?" exclaimed Gla.s.sdale. "No! I know his reason for coming to Wrychester. It was wholly and solely--as far as I know--to tell the Duke here about that jewel business, the secret of which had been entrusted to Brake and me by a man on his death-bed in Australia. Brake came to Wrychester by himself--I was to join him next morning: we were then to go to see the Duke together. When I got to Wrychester, I heard of Brake's accident, and being upset by it, I went away again and waited some days until yesterday, when I made up my mind to tell the Duke myself, as I did, with very fortunate results. No, that's the only reason I know of why Brake came this way. I tell you I knew nothing at all of his family affairs! He was a very close man, Brake, and apart from his business matters, he'd only one idea in his head, and that was lodged there pretty firmly, I can a.s.sure you!"

"What was it?" asked Bryce.

"He wanted to find a certain man--or, rather, two men--who'd cruelly deceived and wronged him, but one of 'em in particular," answered Gla.s.sdale. "The particular one he believed to be in Australia, until near the end, when he got an idea that he'd left for England; as for the other, he didn't bother much about him. But the man that he did want!--ah, he wanted him badly!"

"Who was that man?" asked Bryce.

"A man of the name of Falkiner Wraye," answered Gla.s.sdale promptly. "A man he'd known in London. This Wraye, together with his partner, a man called Flood, tricked Brake into lending 'em several thousands pounds--bank's money, of course--for a couple of days--no more--and then clean disappeared, leaving him to pay the piper! He was a fool, no doubt, but he'd been mixed up with them; he'd done it before, and they'd always kept their promises, and he did it once too often. He let 'em have some thousands; they disappeared, and the bank inspector happened to call at Brake's bank and ask for his balances. And--there he was.

And--that's why he'd Falkiner Wraye on his mind--as his one big idea.

T'other man was a lesser consideration, Wraye was the chief offender."

"I wish you'd tell me all you know about Brake," said Bryce after a pause during which he had done some thinking. "Between ourselves, of course."

"Oh--I don't know that there's so much secrecy!" replied Gla.s.sdale almost indifferently. "Of course, I knew him first when we were both inmates of--you understand where; no need for particulars. But after we left that place, I never saw him again until we met in Australia a few years ago. We were both in the same trade--speculating in wool. We got pretty thick and used to see each other a great deal, and of course, grew confidential. He told me in time about his affair, and how he'd traced this Wraye to the United States, and then, I think, to New Zealand, and afterwards to Australia, and as I was knocking about the country a great deal buying up wool, he asked me to help him, and gave me a description of Wraye, of whom, he said, he'd certainly heard something when he first landed at Sydney, but had never been able to trace afterwards. But it was no good--I never either saw or heard of Wraye--and Brake came to the conclusion he'd left Australia. And I know he hoped to get news of him, somehow, when we returned to England."

"That description, now?--what was it?" asked Bryce.

"Oh!" said Gla.s.sdale. "I can't remember it all, now--big man, clean shaven, nothing very particular except one thing. Wraye, according to Brake, had a bad scar on his left jaw and had lost the middle finger of his left hand--all from a gun accident. He--what's the matter, sir?"

Bryce had suddenly let his pipe fall from his lips. He took some time in picking it up. When he raised himself again his face was calm if a little flushed from stooping.

"Bit my pipe on a bad tooth!" he muttered. "I must have that tooth seen to. So you never heard or saw anything of this man?"

"Never!" answered Gla.s.sdale. "But I've wondered since this Wrychester affair if Brake accidentally came across one or other of those men, and if his death arose out of it. Now, look here, doctor! I read the accounts of the inquest on Brake--I'd have gone to it if I'd dared, but just then I hadn't made up my mind about seeing the Duke; I didn't know what to do, so I kept away, and there's a thing has struck me that I don't believe the police have ever taken the slightest, notice of."

"What's that?" demanded Bryce.

"Why, this!" answered Gla.s.sdale. "That man who called himself Dellingham--who came with Brake to the Mitre Hotel at Wrychester--who is he? Where did Brake meet him? Where did he go? Seems to me the police have been strangely negligent about that! According to the accounts I've read, everybody just accepted this Dellingham's first statement, took his word, and let him--vanish! No one, as far as I know, ever verified his account of himself. A stranger!"

Bryce, who was already in one of his deep moods of reflection, got up from his chair as if to go.

"Yes," he said. "There maybe something in your suggestion. They certainly did take his word without inquiry. It's true--he mightn't be what he said he was."

"Aye, and from what I read, they never followed his movements that morning!" observed Gla.s.sdale. "Queer business altogether! Isn't there some reward offered, doctor? I heard of some placards or something, but I've never seen them; of course, I've only been here since yesterday morning."

Bryce silently drew some papers from his pocket. From them he extracted the two handbills which Mitchington had given him and handed them over.

"Well, I must go," he said. "I shall no doubt see you again in Wrychester, over this affair. For the present, all this is between ourselves, of course?"

"Oh, of course, doctor!" answered Gla.s.sdale. "Quite so!" Bryce went off and got his bicycle and rode away in the direction of Wrychester. Had he remained in that garden he would have seen Gla.s.sdale, after reading both the handbills, go into the house and have heard him ask the landlady at the bar to get him a trap and a good horse in it as soon as possible; he, too, now wanted to go to Wrychester and at once. But Bryce was riding down the road, muttering certain words to himself over and over again.

"The left jaw--and the left hand!" he repeated. "Left hand--left jaw!

Unmistakable!"

CHAPTER XXII. OTHER PEOPLE'S NOTIONS

The great towers of Wrychester Cathedral had come within Bryce's view before he had made up his mind as to the next step in this last stage of his campaign. He had ridden away from the Saxonsteade Arms feeling that he had got to do something at once, but he was not quite clear in his mind as to what that something exactly was. But now, as he topped a rise in the road, and saw Wrychester lying in its hollow beneath him, the summer sun shining on its red roofs and grey walls, he suddenly came to a decision, and instead of riding straight ahead into the old city he turned off at a by-road, made a line across the northern outskirts, and headed for the golf-links. He was almost certain to find Mary Bewery there at that hour, and he wanted to see her at once. The time for his great stroke had come.

But Mary Bewery was not there--had not been there that morning said the caddy-master. There were only a few players out. In one of them, coming towards the club-house, Bryce recognized Sackville Bonham. And at sight of Sackville, Bryce had an inspiration. Mary Bewery would not come up to the links now before afternoon; he, Bryce, would lunch there and then go towards Wrychester to meet her by the path across the fields on which he had waylaid her after his visit to Leicestershire. And meanwhile he would inveigle Sackville Bonham into conversation. Sackville fell readily into Bryce's trap. He was the sort of youth who loves to talk, especially in a hinting and mysterious fashion. And when Bryce, after treating him to an appetizer in the bar of the club-house, had suggested that they should lunch together and got him into a quiet corner of the dining-room, he launched forth at once on the pertinent matter of the day.

"Heard all about this discovery of those missing Saxonsteade diamonds?"

he asked as he and Bryce picked up their knives and forks. "Queer business that, isn't it? Of course, it's got to do with those murders!"

"Think so?" asked Bryce.