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"There's been an accident in Paradise man fallen from that door at the head of St. Wrytha's Stair. I wish you'd come but I may as well tell you that he's past help dead!" "Dead! A man?" exclaimed Ransford. "What man? A workman?" Bryce had already made up his mind about telling Ransford of the stranger's call at the surgery. He would say nothing at that time at any rate.
Wrytha's Stair. And though, at a juryman's wish, Varner was recalled, and stuck stoutly to his original story of having seen a hand which, he protested, was certainly not that of the dead man, it soon became plain that the jury shared the Coroner's belief that Varner in his fright and excitement had been mistaken, and no one was surprised when the foreman, after a very brief consultation with his fellows, announced a verdict of death by misadventure.
Whatever its exact meaning might have been, its existence made no difference to Bryce's firm opinion that it was Mark Ransford who flung John Brake down St. Wrytha's Stair and killed him. He was as sure of that as he was certain that Braden was Brake. And he was not going to tell the police of his discoveries he was not going to tell anybody.
Near the entrance of Paradise, I saw Ransford leaving the west porch of the Cathedral. He was undeniably in a state of agitation pale, nervous. He didn't see me. I went on and met Varner, who told me of the accident. I went with him to the foot of St. Wrytha's Stair and found the man who had recently called at the surgery. He died just as I reached him. I sent for you.
The mason turned off towards the gateway of the Close, and while the strains of the organ grew louder, Bryce bent over the dead man, wondering what had really happened. Thrown from an open doorway in the clerestory over St. Wrytha's Stair? it seemed almost impossible!
Who, really, was the man who had registered at the Mitre under the name of John Braden? Why did he wish to make a personal call on the Duke of Saxonsteade? Was he some man who had known Ransford in time past and whom Ransford had no desire to meet again? Did Ransford meet him in the Cathedral? Was it Ransford who flung him to his death down St. Wrytha's Stair?
I know every inch of the Cathedral fabric ought to, as we're always going over it, professionally. Just at that doorway, at the head of St. Wrytha's Stair, the flooring of the clerestory gallery is worn so smooth that it's like a piece of glass and it slopes! Slopes at a very steep angle, too, to the doorway itself.
From the exact spot where C. was clearing the timber, there is an uninterrupted view of the gallery on the south side of the nave, and of the arched doorway at the head of St. Wrytha's Stair." "'Well," observed Jettison, "that proves what I'm saying. It wasn't hush-money.
The man swept his hand across his forehead as if he were dazed, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "A man!" he gasped. "Foot of St. Wrytha's Stair there, doctor. Dead or if not dead, near it. I saw it!" Bryce seized Varner's arm and gave it a shake. "You saw what?" he demanded. "Saw him fall. Or rather flung!" panted Varner.
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