ts in his time as such old chaps do--bit of reading at the
libraries--bit of gossip here and--there you know the sort. Last man in
the world I should have thought would have been mixed up in an affair of
this sort!"

"And therefore all the more likely to be!" said Jettison. "Well--the
other?"

"Bryce was until the very day of Braden's appearance, Ransford's
assistant," continued Mitchington. "Been with Ransford about two years.
Clever chap, undoubtedly, but certainly deep and, in a way, reserved,
though he can talk plenty if he's so minded and it's to his own
advantage. He left Ransford suddenly--that very morning. I don't know
why. Since then he's remained in the town. I've heard that he's pretty
keen on Ransford's ward--sister of that lad we saw tonight. I don't know
myself, if it's true--but I've wondered if that had anything to do with
his leaving Ransford so suddenly."

"Very likely," said Jettison. They had crossed the Close by that time
and come to a gas-lamp which stood at the entrance, and the detective
pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "Ten past eleven," he said. "You
say you know this Bryce pretty well? Now, would it be too late--if he's
up still--to take a look at him! If you and he are on good terms, you
could make an excuse. After what I've heard, I'd like to get at close
quarters with this gentleman."

"Easy enough," assented Mitchington. "I've been there as late as
this--he's one of the sort that never goes to bed before midnight. Come
on!--it's close by. But--not a word of where we've been. I'll say I've
dropped in to give him a bit of news. We'll tell him about the jewel
business--and see how he takes it. And while we're there--size him up!"

Mitchington was right in his description of Bryce's habits--Bryce rarely
went to bed before one o'clock in the morning. He liked to sit up,
reading. His favourite mental food was found in the lives of statesmen
and diplomatists, most of them of the sort famous for trickery and
chicanery--he not only made a close study of the ways of these gentry
but wrote down notes and abstracts of passages which particularly
appealed to him. His lamp was burning when Mitchington and Jettison came
in view of his windows--but that night Bryce was doing no thinking about
statecraft: his mind was fixed on his own affairs. He had lighted his
fire on going home and for an hour had sat with his legs stretched out
on the fender, carefully weighing things up. The event of the