Bryce asked a question about the holding of the inquest and went away.  And after thinking things over, he turned in the direction of the Cathedral, and made his way through the Cloisters to the Close.  He was going to make another move in his own game, while there was a good chance.  Everything at this juncture was throwing excellent cards into his hand—­he would be foolish, he thought, not to play them to advantage.  And so he made straight for Ransford’s house, and before he reached it, met Ransford and Mary Bewery, who were crossing the Close from another point, on their way from the railway station, whither Mary had gone especially to meet her guardian.  They were in such deep conversation that Bryce was close upon them before they observed his presence.  When Ransford saw his late assistant, he scowled unconsciously —­Bryce, and the interview of the previous afternoon, had been much in his thoughts all day, and he had an uneasy feeling that Bryce was playing some game.  Bryce was quick to see that scowl—­and to observe the sudden start which Mary could not repress—­and he was just as quick to speak.

“I was going to your house, Dr. Ransford,” he remarked quietly.  “I don’t want to force my presence on you, now or at any time—­but I think you’d better give me a few minutes.”

They were at Ransford’s garden gate by that time, and Ransford flung it open and motioned Bryce to follow.  He led the way into the dining-room, closed the door on the three, and looked at Bryce.  Bryce took the glance as a question, and put another, in words.

“You’ve heard of what’s happened during the day?” he said.

“About Collishaw—­yes,” answered Ransford.  “Miss Bewery has just told me—­what her brother told her.  What of it?”

“I have just come from the police-station,” said Bryce.  “Coates and Everest have carried out an autopsy this afternoon.  Mitchington told me the result.”

“Well?” demanded Ransford, with no attempt to conceal his impatience.  “And what then?”

“Collishaw was poisoned,” replied Bryce, watching Ransford with a closeness which Mary did not fail to observe.  “H.C.N.  No doubt at all about it.”

“Well—­and what then?” asked Ransford, still more impatiently.  “To be explicit—­what’s all this to do with me?”

“I came here to do you a service,” answered Bryce.  “Whether you like to take it or not is your look-out.  You may as well know it you’re in danger.  Collishaw is the man who hinted—­as you heard yesterday in my rooms—­that he could say something definite about the Braden affair—­if he liked.”

“Well?” said Ransford.

“It’s known—­to the police—­that you were at Collishaw’s house early this morning,” said Bryce.  “Mitchington knows it.”

Ransford laughed.

“Does Mitchington know that I overheard what he said to you, yesterday afternoon?” he inquired.

“No, he doesn’t,” answered Bryce.  “He couldn’t possibly know unless I told him.  I haven’t told him—­I’m not going to tell him.  But—­he’s suspicious already.”