“That’s not certain,” replied Bryce.  “It’s said—­remember, I’m only repeating things—­it’s said that just before the body was discovered, Dr. Ransford was seen—­seen, mind you! —­leaving the west porch of the Cathedral, looking as if he had just been very, much upset.  Two persons saw this.”

“Who are they?” asked Mary.

“That I’m not allowed to tell you,” said Bryce, who had no intention of informing her that one person was himself and the other imaginary.  “But I can assure you that I am certain —­absolutely certain!—­that their story is true.  The fact is —­I can corroborate it.”

“You!” she exclaimed.

“I!” replied Bryce.  “I will tell you something that I have never told anybody—­up to now.  I shan’t ask you to respect my confidence—­I’ve sufficient trust in you to know that you will, without any asking.  Listen!—­on that morning, Dr. Ransford went out of the surgery in the direction of the Deanery, leaving me alone there.  A few minutes later, a tap came at the door.  I opened it—­and found—­a man standing outside!”

“Not—­that man?” asked Mary fearfully.

“That man—­Braden,” replied Bryce.  “He asked for Dr. Ransford.  I said he was out—­would the caller leave his name?  He said no—­he had called because he had once known a Dr. Ransford, years before.  He added something about calling again, and he went away—­across the Close towards the Cathedral.  I saw him again—­not very long afterwards—­lying in the corner of Paradise—­dead!”

Mary Bewery was by this time pale and trembling—­and Bryce continued to watch her steadily.  She stole a furtive look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell all this at the inquest?” she asked in a whisper.

“Because I knew how damning it would be to—­Ransford,” replied Bryce promptly.  “It would have excited suspicion.  I was certain that no one but myself knew that Braden had been to the surgery door—­therefore, I thought that if I kept silence, his calling there would never be known.  But—­I have since found that I was mistaken.  Braden was seen—­going away from Dr. Ransford’s.”

“By—­whom?” asked Mary.

“Mrs. Deramore—­at the next house,” answered Bryce.  “She happened to be looking out of an upstairs window.  She saw him go away and cross the Close.”

“Did she tell you that?” demanded Mary, who knew Mrs. Deramore for a gossip.

“Between ourselves,” said Bryce, “she did not!  She told Mrs. Folliot—­Mrs. Folliot told me.”

“So—­it is talked about!” exclaimed Mary.

“I said so,” assented Bryce.  “You know what Mrs. Folliot’s tongue is.”

“Then Dr. Ransford will get to hear of it,” said Mary.

“He will be the last person to get to hear of it,” affirmed Bryce.  “These things are talked of, hole-and-corner fashion, a long time before they reach the ears of the person chiefly concerned.”

Mary hesitated a moment before she asked her next question.