“I remember hearing it said,” he remarked, “that Miss Mary had no relations. She'd been with the old vicar some time, and I don't remember any relations ever coming to see her, nor her going away to see any.” “Do you know what Brake was?” asked Bryce. “As you say he came here for a good many times before the marriage, I suppose you'd hear something about his profession, or trade, or whatever it was?” “He was a banker, that one,” replied Claybourne. “A banker--that was his trade, sir. T'other gentleman, Mr. Ransford, he was a doctor--I mind that well enough, because once when him and Mr. Brake were fishing here, Thomas Joynt's wife fell downstairs and broke her leg, and they fetched him to her--he'd got it set before they'd got the reg'lar doctor out from Barthorpe yonder.” Bryce had now got all the information he wanted, and he made the old parish clerk a small present and turned to go. But another question presented itself to his mind and he reentered the little shop. “Your late vicar?” he said. “The one in whose family Miss Bewery was governess--where is he now? Dead?” “Can't say whether he's dead or alive, sir,” replied Claybourne. “He left this parish for another--a living in a different part of England--some years since, and I haven't heard much of him from that time to this--he never came back here once, not even to pay us a friendly visit--he was a queerish sort. But I'll tell you what, sir,” he added, evidently anxious to give his visitor good value for his half-crown, “our present vicar has one of those books with the names of all the clergymen in 'em, and he'd tell you where his predecessor is now, if he's alive--name of Reverend Thomas Gilwaters, M.A.--an Oxford college man he was, and very high learned.” Bryce went back to the vicarage, returned the borrowed book, and asked to look at the registers for the year 1891. He verified his copy and turned to the vicar. “I accidentally came across the record of a marriage there in which I'm interested,” he said as he paid the search fees. “Celebrated by your predecessor, Mr. Gilwaters. I should be glad to know where Mr. Gilwaters is to be found. Do you happen to possess a clerical directory?” The vicar produced a “Crockford”, and Bryce turned over its pages. Mr. Gilwaters, who from the account there given appeared to be an elderly man who had now retired, lived in London, in Bayswater, and Bryce made a note of his address and prepared to depart. “Find any names that interested you?” asked the vicar as his caller left. “Anything noteworthy?” “I found two or three names which interested me immensely,” answered Bryce from the foot of the vicarage steps. “They were well worth searching for.” And without further explanation he marched off to Barthorpe duly followed by his shadow, who saw him safely into the Peacock an hour later--and, an hour after that, went to the police superintendent with his report. “Gone, sir,” he said. “Left by the five-thirty express for London.”