“Nor me,” assented Jettison. “And as you say, we've only Bryce's word. And, the more I think of it, the more I'm convinced there's somebody--some man of whom you don't seem to have the least idea--who's in this. And it may be that Bryce is in with him. However--here's one thing I'm going to do at once. Bryce gave us that information about the fifty pounds. Now I'm going to tell Bryce straight out that I've gone into that matter in my own fashion--a fashion he evidently never thought of--and ask him to explain why he drew a similar amount in gold. Come on round to his rooms.” But Bryce was not to be found at his rooms--had not been back to his rooms, said his landlady, since he had ridden away early in the morning: all she knew was that he had ordered his dinner to be ready at his usual time that evening. With that the two men had to be content, and they went back to the police-station still discussing the situation. And they were still discussing it an hour later when a telegram was handed to Mitchington, who tore it open, glanced over its contents and passed it to his companion who read it aloud. “Meet me with Jettison Wrychester Station on arrival of five-twenty express from London mystery cleared up guilty men known--Ransford.” Jettison handed the telegram back. “A man of his word!” he said. “He mentioned two days--he's done it in one! And now, my lad--do you notice?--he says men, not man! It's as I said--there's been more than one of 'em in this affair. Now then--who are they?” CHAPTER XXI. THE SAXONSTEADE ARMS Bryce had ridden away on his bicycle from Wrychester that morning intent on a new piece of diplomacy. He had sat up thinking for some time after the two police officials had left him at midnight, and it had occurred to him that there was a man from whom information could be had of whose services he had as yet made no use but who must be somewhere in the neighbourhood--the man Glassdale. Glassdale had been in Wrychester 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.