The Talleyrand Maxim, J. S. Fletcher [books to read fiction TXT] 📗
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
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that man came about! She flatly refuses to tell me anything! She will
only say that it was business of her own. She won’t trust me with it,
you see!—her own daughter! What business can that man have with
her?—or she with him? Eldrick & Pascoe are not our solicitors! There’s
some secret and–-”
“Will you answer one or two questions?” said Collingwood quietly. He had
never seen Nesta angry before, and he now realized that she had certain
possibilities of temper and determination which would be formidable when
roused. “First of all, is that maid you speak of, Esther Mawson,
reliable?”
“I don’t know!” answered Nesta. “My mother has had her two years—she’s
a Barford woman. Sometimes I think she’s sly and cunning. But I’ve given
her such strict orders now that she’ll never dare to let any one see my
mother again without my consent.”
“The other question’s this,” said Collingwood. “Have you any idea, any
suspicion of why Pratt wanted to see your mother?”
“Not unless it was about that stewardship,” replied Nesta. “But—how
could that frighten her? Besides, all that’s over. Normandale is
mine!—and if I have a steward, or an estate agent, I shall see to the
appointment myself. No!—I do not know why he should have come here!
But—there’s some mystery. The curious thing is–-”
“What?” asked Collingwood, as she paused.
“Why,” she said, shaking her head wonderingly, “that I’m absolutely
certain that my mother never even knew this man Pratt—I don’t I think
she even knew his name—until quite recently. I know when she got to
know him, too. It was just about the time that you first called here—at
the time of Mr. Bartle’s death. Our butler told me this morning that
Pratt came here late one evening—just about that time!—and asked to
see my mother, and was with her for some time in the study. Oh! what is
it all about?—and why doesn’t she tell me?”
Collingwood stood silently staring out of the window. At the time of
Antony Bartle’s death? An evening visit?—evidently of a secret nature.
And why paid to Mrs. Mallathorpe at that particular time? He suddenly
turned to Nesta.
“What do you wish me to do?” he asked.
“Will you speak to Mr. Eldrick?” she said. “Tell him that his clerk must
not call upon, or attempt to see, my mother. I will not have it!”
Collingwood went off to Barford, and straight to Eldrick’s office. He
noticed as he passed through the outer rooms that Pratt was not in his
accustomed place—as a rule, it was impossible to get at either Eldrick
or Pascoe without first seeing Pratt.
“Hullo!” said Eldrick. “Just got in from town? That’s lucky—I’ve got a
big case for you.”
“I got in last night,” replied Collingwood. “But I went out to
Normandale first thing this morning: I’ve just come back from there. I
say, Eldrick, here’s an unpleasant matter to tell you of”; and he told
the solicitor all that Nesta had just told him, and also of Pratt’s
visit to Mrs. Mallathorpe about the time of Antony Bartle’s death.
“Whatever it is,” he concluded sternly, “it’s got to stop! If you’ve any
influence over your clerk–-”
Eldrick made a grimace and waved his hand.
“He’s our clerk no longer!” he said. “He left us the week after you went
up to town, Collingwood. He was only a weekly servant, and he took
advantage of that to give me a week’s notice. Now, what game is Master
Pratt playing? He’s smart, and he’s deep, too. He–-”
Just then an office-boy announced Mr. Robson, the Mallathorpe family
solicitor, a bustling, rather rough-and-ready type of man, who came into
Eldrick’s room looking not only angry but astonished. He nodded to
Collingwood, and flung himself into a chair at the side of Eldrick’s
desk.
“Look here, Eldrick!” he exclaimed. “What on earth has that clerk of
yours, Pratt, got to do with Mrs. Mallathorpe? Do you know what Mrs.
Mallathorpe has done? Hang it, she must be out of her senses,—or—or
there’s something I can’t fathom. She’s given your clerk, Linford Pratt,
a power of attorney to deal with all her affairs and all her property!
Oh, it’s all right, I tell you! Pratt’s been to my office, and exhibited
it to me as if—as if he were the Lord Chancellor!”
Eldrick turned to Collingwood, and Collingwood to Eldrick—and then both
turned to Robson.
THE FIRST TRICK
The Mallathorpe family solicitor shook his head impatiently under those
questioning glances.
“It’s not a bit of use appealing to me to know what it means!” he
exclaimed. “I know no more than what I’ve told you. That chap walked
into my office as bold as brass, half an hour ago, and exhibited to me a
power of attorney, all duly drawn up and stamped, executed in his favour
by Mrs. Mallathorpe yesterday. And as Mrs. Mallathorpe is, as far as I
know, in her senses,—why—there you are!”
“What is it?” asked Eldrick. “A general power? Or a special?”
“General!” answered Robson, with an air of disgust. “Authorizes him to
act for her in all business matters. It means, of course, that that
fellow now has full control over—why, a tremendous amount of money! The
estate, of course, is Miss Mallathorpe’s—he can’t interfere with that.
But Mrs. Mallathorpe shares equally with her daughter as regards the
personal property of Harper Mallathorpe—his share in the business, and
all that he left, and what’s more, Mrs. Mallathorpe is administratrix of
the personal property. She’s simply placed in Pratt’s hands an enormous
power! And—for what reason? Who on earth is Pratt—what right, title,
age, or qualification, has he to be entrusted with such a big affair? I
never knew of such a business in the whole course of my professional
experiences!”
“Nor I!” agreed Eldrick. “But there’s one thing in which you’re
mistaken, Robson. You ask what qualification Pratt has for a post of
that sort? Pratt’s a very smart, clever, managing chap!”
“Oh, of course! He’s your clerk!” retorted Robson, a little sneeringly.
“Naturally, you’ve a big idea of his abilities. But–-”
“He’s not our clerk any longer,” said Eldrick. “He left us about a week
ago. I heard this morning that he’s set up an office in Market
Street—in the Atlas Building—and I wondered for what purpose.”
“Purpose of fleecing Mrs. Mallathorpe, I should say!” grumbled Robson.
“Of course, everything of hers must pass through his hands. What on
earth can her daughter have been thinking of to allow–-”
“Stop a bit!” interrupted Eldrick. “Collingwood came in to tell me about
that—he’s just come from Normandale Grange. Miss Mallathorpe complains
that Pratt called there yesterday in her absence. That’s probably when
this power of attorney was signed. But Miss Mallathorpe doesn’t know
anything of it—she insists that Pratt shall not visit her mother.”
Robson stirred impatiently in his chair.
“That’s all bosh!” he said. “She can’t prevent it. I saw Mrs.
Mallathorpe myself three days ago—she’s recovering very well, and she’s
in her right senses, and she’s capable of doing business. Her daughter
can’t prevent her from doing anything she likes! And if she did what she
liked yesterday when she signed that document—why, everybody’s
powerless—except Pratt.”
“There’s the question of how the document was obtained,” remarked
Collingwood. “There may have been undue influence.”
The two solicitors looked at each other. Then Eldrick rose from his
chair. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “It’s no affair of mine,
but we employed Pratt for years, and he’ll confide in me. I’ll go and
see him, and ask him what it’s all about. Wait here a while, you two.”
He went out of his office and across into Market Street, where the Atlas
Building, a modern range of offices and chambers, towered above the
older structures at its foot. In the entrance hall a man was gilding the
name of a new tenant on the address board—that name was Pratt’s, and
Eldrick presently found himself ascending in the lift to Pratt’s
quarters on the fifth floor. Within five minutes of leaving Collingwood
and Robson, he was closeted with Pratt in a well-furnished and appointed
little office of two rooms, the inner one of which was almost luxurious
in its fittings. And Pratt himself looked extremely well satisfied, and
confident—and quite at his ease. He wheeled forward an easy chair for
his visitor, and pushed a box of cigarettes towards him.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Eldrick,” he said, with a cordial politeness which
suggested, however, somehow, that he and the solicitor were no longer
master and servant. “How do you like my little place of business?”
“You’re making a comfortable nest of it, anyhow, Pratt,” answered
Eldrick, looking round. “And—what sort of business are you going to do,
pray?”
“Agency,” replied Pratt, promptly. “It struck me some little time ago
that a smart man,—like myself, eh?—could do well here in Barford as an
agent in a new sort of fashion—attending to things for people who
aren’t fitted or inclined to do ‘em for themselves—or are rich enough
to employ somebody to look after their affairs. Of course, that
Normandale stewardship dropped out when young Harper died, and I don’t
suppose the notion ‘ll be revived now that his sister’s come in. But
I’ve got one good job to go on with–Mrs. Mallathorpe’s given me her
affairs to look after.”
Eldrick took one of the cigarettes and lighted it—as a sign of his
peaceable and amicable intentions.
“Pratt!” he said. “That’s just what I’ve come to see you about.
Unofficially, mind—in quite a friendly way. It’s like this”; and he
went on to tell Pratt of what had just occurred at his own office.
“So—there you are,” he concluded. “I’m saying nothing, you know, it’s
no affair of mine—but if these people begin to say that you’ve used any
undue influence–-”
“Mr. Collingwood, and Mr. Robson, and Miss Mallathorpe—and anybody,”
answered Pratt, slowly and firmly, “had better mind what they are
saying, Mr. Eldrick. There’s such a thing as slander, as you’re well
aware. I’m not the man to be slandered, or libelled, or to have my
character defamed—without fighting for my rights. There has been no
undue influence! I went to see Mrs. Mallathorpe yesterday at her own
request. The arrangement between me and her is made with her approval
and free will. If her daughter found her a bit upset, it’s because she’d
such a shock at the time of her son’s death. I did nothing to frighten
her, not I! The fact is, Miss Mallathorpe doesn’t know that her mother
and I have had a bit of business together of late. And all that Mrs.
Mallathorpe has entrusted to me is the power to look after her affairs
for her. And why not? You know that I’m a good man of business, a really
good hand at commercial accountancy, and well acquainted with the trade
of this town. You know too, Mr. Eldrick, that I’m scrupulously
honest—I’ve had many and many a thousand pounds of yours and your
partner’s through my hands! Who’s got anything to say against me? I’m
only trying to earn an honest living.”
“Well, well!” said Eldrick, who, being an easy-going and
kindly-dispositioned man, was somewhat inclined to side with his old
clerk. “I suppose Mr. Robson thinks that if Mrs. Mallathorpe wished to
put her affairs in anybody’s hands, she should have put them in his.
He’s their family solicitor, you know, Pratt, while you’re a young man
with no claim on Mrs. Mallathorpe.”
Pratt smiled—a queer, knowing smile—and reached out his hand to some
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