ester the
previous evening; he could scarcely be far away now; there was certainly
one person who would know where he could be found, and that person
was the Duke of Saxonsteade. Bryce knew the Duke to be an extremely
approachable man, a talkative, even a garrulous man, given to holding
converse with anybody about anything, and he speedily made up his mind
to ride over to Saxonsteade, invent a plausible excuse for his call,
and get some news out of his Grace. Even if Glassdale had left the
neighbourhood, there might be fragments of evidence to pick up from
the Duke, for Glassdale, he knew, had given his former employer the
information about the stolen jewels and would, no doubt, have added
more about his acquaintance with Braden. And before Bryce came to his
dreamed-of master-stroke in that matter, there were one or two things he
wanted to clear up, to complete his double net, and he had an idea that
an hour's chat with Glassdale would yield all that he desired.

The active brain that had stood Bryce in good stead while he spun his
meshes and devised his schemes was more active than ever that early
summer morning. It was a ten-mile ride through woods and valleys to
Saxonsteade, and there were sights and beauties of nature on either side
of him which any other man would have lingered to admire and most men
would have been influenced by. But Bryce had no eyes for the clouds over
the copper-crowned hills or the mystic shadows in the deep valleys or
the new buds in the hedgerows, and no thought for the rustic folk whose
cottages he passed here and there in a sparsely populated country. All
his thoughts were fixed on his schemes, almost as mechanically as his
eyes followed the white road in front of his wheel. Ever since he had
set out on his campaign he had regularly taken stock of his position; he
was for ever reckoning it up. And now, in his opinion, everything looked
very promising. He had--so far as he was aware--created a definite
atmosphere of suspicion around and against Ransford--it needed only a
little more suggestion, perhaps a little more evidence to bring about
Ransford's arrest. And the only question which at all troubled Bryce
was--should he let matters go to that length before putting his
ultimatum before Mary Bewery, or should he show her his hand first? For
Bryce had so worked matters that a word from him to the police would
damn Ransford or save him--and now it all depended, so far as Bryce
himself was con