“Now look here, Mitchington,” he said, “and you, too, Mr. Jettison, as you're on this job--I'm going to talk straight to both of you. And to begin with, I'll make a bold assertion--I know more of this Wrychester Paradise mystery--involving the deaths of both Braden and Collishaw, than any man living--because, though you don't know it, Mitchington, I've gone right into it. And I'll tell you in confidence why I went into it--I want to marry Dr. Ransford's ward, Miss Bewery!” Bryce accompanied this candid admission with a look which seemed to say: Here we are, three men of the world, who know what things are--we understand each other! And while Jettison merely nodded comprehendingly, Mitchington put his thoughts into words. “To be sure, doctor, to be sure!” he said. “And accordingly--what's their affair, is yours! Of course!” “Something like that,” assented Bryce. “Naturally no man wishes to marry unless he knows as much as he can get to know about the woman he wants, her family, her antecedents--and all that. Now, pretty nearly everybody in Wrychester who knows them, knows that there's a mystery about Dr. Ransford and his two wards--it's been talked of, no end, amongst the old dowagers and gossips of the Close, particularly--you know what they are! Miss Bewery herself, and her brother, young Dick, in a lesser degree, know there's a mystery. And if there's one man in the world who knows the secret, it's Ransford. And, up to now, Ransford won't tell--he won't even tell Miss Bewery. I know that she's asked him--he keeps up an obstinate silence. And so--I determined to find things out for myself.” “Aye--and when did you start on that little game, now, doctor?” asked Mitchington. “Was it before, or since, this affair developed?”