doctor out
from Barthorpe yonder."

Bryce had now got all the information he wanted, and he made the old
parish clerk a small present and turned to go. But another question
presented itself to his mind and he reentered the little shop.

"Your late vicar?" he said. "The one in whose family Miss Bewery was
governess--where is he now? Dead?"

"Can't say whether he's dead or alive, sir," replied Claybourne.
"He left this parish for another--a living in a different part of
England--some years since, and I haven't heard much of him from that
time to this--he never came back here once, not even to pay us a
friendly visit--he was a queerish sort. But I'll tell you what, sir,"
he added, evidently anxious to give his visitor good value for his
half-crown, "our present vicar has one of those books with the names
of all the clergymen in 'em, and he'd tell you where his predecessor is
now, if he's alive--name of Reverend Thomas Gilwaters, M.A.--an Oxford
college man he was, and very high learned."

Bryce went back to the vicarage, returned the borrowed book, and asked
to look at the registers for the year 1891. He verified his copy and
turned to the vicar.

"I accidentally came across the record of a marriage there in which I'm
interested," he said as he paid the search fees. "Celebrated by your
predecessor, Mr. Gilwaters. I should be glad to know where Mr. Gilwaters
is to be found. Do you happen to possess a clerical directory?"

The vicar produced a "Crockford", and Bryce turned over its pages. Mr.
Gilwaters, who from the account there given appeared to be an elderly
man who had now retired, lived in London, in Bayswater, and Bryce made a
note of his address and prepared to depart.

"Find any names that interested you?" asked the vicar as his caller
left. "Anything noteworthy?"

"I found two or three names which interested me immensely," answered
Bryce from the foot of the vicarage steps. "They were well worth
searching for."

And without further explanation he marched off to Barthorpe duly
followed by his shadow, who saw him safely into the Peacock an hour
later--and, an hour after that, went to the police superintendent with
his report.

"Gone, sir," he said. "Left by the five-thirty express for London."

CHAPTER IX. THE HOUSE OF HIS FRIEND

Bryce found himself at eleven o'clock next morning in a small book-lined
parlour in a little house which stood in a quiet street in the
neighbourhood of Westbourne Gr