fairs; and she also remembered
what he had said on the previous night. And so, controlling her anger at
Bryce and her impatience of the whole situation she waited as patiently
as she could until the time drew near when Ransford might be expected to
be seen coming across the Close. She knew from which direction he would
come, and she remained near the dining-room window looking out for him.
But six o'clock came and she had seen no sign of him; then, as she was
beginning to think that he had missed the afternoon train she saw
him, at the opposite side of the Close, talking earnestly to Dick,
who presently came towards the house while Ransford turned back into
Folliot's garden.

Dick Bewery came hurriedly in. His sister saw at once that he had just
heard news which had had a sobering effect on his usually effervescent
spirits. He looked at her as if he wondered exactly how to give her his
message.

"I saw you with the doctor just now," she said, using the term by which
she and her brother always spoke of their guardian. "Why hasn't he come
home?"

Dick came close to her, touching her arm.

"I say!" he said, almost whispering. "Don't be frightened--the doctor's
all right--but there's something awful just happened. At Folliot's."

"What" she demanded. "Speak out, Dick! I'm not frightened. What is it?"

Dick shook his head as if he still scarcely realized the full
significance of his news.

"It's all a licker to me yet!" he answered. "I don't understand it--I
only know what the doctor told me--to come and tell you. Look here, it's
pretty bad. Folliot and Bryce are both dead!"

In spite of herself Mary started back as from a great shock and clutched
at the table by which they were standing.

"Dead!" she exclaimed. "Why--Bryce was here, speaking to me, not an hour
ago!"

"Maybe," said Dick. "But he's dead now. The fact is, Folliot shot him
with a revolver--killed him on the spot. And then Folliot poisoned
himself--took the same stuff, the doctor said, that finished that chap
Collishaw, and died instantly. It was in Folliot's old well-house. The
doctor was there and the police."

"What does it all mean?" asked Mary.

"Don't know. Except this," added Dick; "they've found out about those
other affairs--the Braden and the Collishaw affairs. Folliot was
concerned in them; and who do you think the other was? You'd never
guess! That man Fladgate, the verger. Only that isn't his proper name
at all. He and Folliot finish