The Paradise MysteryFletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
General
The Paradise Mystery
Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
Detective and mystery stories
Therefore, information about Braden, leading to knowledge of his
association or connection with Ransford, might be found at Barthorpe.
True, the Barthorpe police had already reported that they could tell
nothing about any Braden, but that, in Bryce's opinion, was neither
here nor there--he had already come to the conclusion that Braden was an
assumed name. And if he went to Barthorpe, he was not going to trouble
the police--he knew better methods than that of finding things out. Was
he going?--was it worth his while? A moment's reflection decided that
matter--anything was worth his while which would help him to get a
strong hold on Mark Ransford. And always practical in his doings, he
walked round to the Free Library, obtained a gazeteer, and looked up
particulars of Barthorpe. There he learnt that Barthorpe was an ancient
market-town of two thousand inhabitants in the north of Leicestershire,
famous for nothing except that it had been the scene of a battle at
the time of the Wars of the Roses, and that its trade was mainly in
agriculture and stocking-making--evidently a slow, sleepy old place.
That night Bryce packed a hand-bag with small necessaries for a few
days' excursion, and next morning he took an early train to London; the
end of that afternoon found him in a Midland northern-bound express,
looking out on the undulating, green acres of Leicestershire. And while
his train was making a three minutes' stop at Leicester itself, the
purpose of his journey was suddenly recalled to him by hearing the
strident voices of the porters on the platform.
“Barthorpe next stop!--next stop Barthorpe!”
One of two other men who shared a smoking compartment with Bryce turned
to his companion as the train moved off again.
“Barthorpe?” he remarked. “That's the place that was mentioned in
connection with that very queer affair at Wrychester, that's been
reported in the papers so much these last few days. The mysterious
stranger who kept ten thousand in a London bank, and of whom nobody
seems to know anything, had nothing on him but a history of Barthorpe.
Odd! And yet, though you'd think he'd some connection with the place, or
had known it, they say nobody at Barthorpe knows anything about anybody
of his name.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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