ee Ransford
face to face with the dead man--wanted to watch him, to observe him,
to see how he looked, how he behaved. Then he, Bryce, would
know--something.

But he was to know something before that. He opened the door of the
surgery suddenly, but with his usual quietness of touch. And on the
threshold he paused. Ransford, the very picture of despair, stood just
within, his face convulsed, beating one hand upon the other.

CHAPTER IV. THE ROOM AT THE MITRE

In the few seconds which elapsed before Ransford recognized Bryce's
presence, Bryce took a careful, if swift, observation of his late
employer. That Ransford was visibly upset by something was plain enough
to see; his face was still pale, he was muttering to himself, one
clenched fist was pounding the open palm of the other hand--altogether,
he looked like a man who is suddenly confronted with some fearful
difficulty. And when Bryce, having looked long enough to satisfy his
wishes, coughed gently, he started in such a fashion as to suggest that
his nerves had become unstrung.

"What is it?--what are you doing there?" he demanded almost fiercely.
"What do you mean by coming in like that?"

Bryce affected to have seen nothing.

"I came to fetch you," he answered. "There's been an accident in
Paradise--man fallen from that door at the head of St. Wrytha's Stair. I
wish you'd come--but I may as well tell you that he's past help--dead!"

"Dead! A man?" exclaimed Ransford. "What man? A workman?"

Bryce had already made up his mind about telling Ransford of the
stranger's call at the surgery. He would say nothing--at that time at
any rate. It was improbable that any one but himself knew of the call;
the side entrance to the surgery was screened from the Close by a
shrubbery; it was very unlikely that any passer-by had seen the man call
or go away. No--he would keep his knowledge secret until it could be
made better use of.

"Not a workman--not a townsman--a stranger," he answered. "Looks like a
well-to-do tourist. A slightly-built, elderly man--grey-haired."

Ransford, who had turned to his desk to master himself, looked round
with a sudden sharp glance--and for the moment Bryce was taken aback.
For he had condemned Ransford--and yet that glance was one of apparently
genuine surprise, a glance which almost convinced him, against his
will, against only too evident facts, that Ransford was hearing of the
Paradise affair for the first time.

"An elderly