The Talleyrand Maxim, J. S. Fletcher [books to read fiction TXT] 📗

CHAPTER XVII

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Eldrick looked up at his partner with a sharp, confirmatory glance.

 

“That’s our Parrawhite, of course!” he said. “Who’s after him, now?” And

he went on to read the rest of the advertisement, murmuring its

phraseology half-aloud: “‘in practice as a solicitor at Nottingham and

who left that town six years ago. If the said James Parrawhite will

communicate with the undersigned he will hear something greatly to his

advantage. Any person able to give information as to his whereabouts

will be suitably rewarded. Apply to Halstead & Byner, 56B, St. Martin’s

Chambers, London, W.C.’ Um!—Pascoe, hand over that Law List.”

 

Collingwood looked on in silence while Eldrick turned over the pages of

the big book which his partner took down from a shelf. He wondered at

Eldrick’s apparent and almost eager interest.

 

“Halstead & Byner are not solicitors,” announced Eldrick presently.

“They must be inquiry agents or something of that sort. Anyway, I’ll

write to them, Pascoe, at once.”

 

“You don’t know where the fellow is,” said Pascoe. “What’s the good?”

 

“No—but we know where he last was,” retorted Eldrick. He turned to

Collingwood as the junior partner sauntered out of the room. “Rather odd

that Pascoe should draw my attention to that just now,” he remarked.

“This man Parrawhite was, in a certain sense, mixed up with Pratt—at

least, Pratt and I are the only two people who know the secret of

Parrawhite’s disappearance from these offices. That was just about the

time of your grandfather’s death.”

 

Collingwood immediately became attentive. His first suspicions of Pratt

were formed at the time of which Eldrick spoke, and any reference to

events contemporary excited his interest.

 

“Who was or is—this man you’re talking of?” he asked.

 

“Bad lot—very!” answered Eldrick, shaking his head. “He and I were

articled together, at the same time, to the same people: we saw a lot of

each other as fellow articled clerks. He afterwards practised in

Nottingham, and he held some good appointments. But he’d a perfect mania

for gambling—the turf—and he went utterly wrong, and misappropriated

clients’ money, and in the end he got into prison, and was, of course,

struck off the rolls. I never heard anything of him for years, and then

one day, some time ago, he turned up here and begged me to give him a

job. I did—and I’ll do him the credit to say that he earned his money.

But—in the end, his natural badness broke out. One afternoon—I’m

careless about some things—I left some money lying in this

drawer—about forty pounds in notes and gold—and next morning

Parrawhite never came to business. We’ve never seen or heard of him

since.”

 

“You mentioned Pratt,” said Collingwood.

 

“Only Pratt and I know—about the money,” replied Eldrick. “We kept it

secret—I didn’t want Pascoe to know I’d been so careless. Pascoe didn’t

like Parrawhite—and he doesn’t know his record. I only told him that

Parrawhite was a chap I’d known in better circumstances and wanted to

give a hand to.”

 

“You said it was about the time of my grandfather’s death?” asked

Collingwood.

 

“It was just about then—between his death and his funeral I should

say,” answered Eldrick, “The two events are associated in my mind.

Anyway, I’d like to know what it is that these people want Parrawhite

for. If it’s money that’s come to him, it’ll be of no advantage—it’ll

only go where all the rest’s gone.”

 

Collingwood lost interest in Parrawhite. Parrawhite appeared to have

nothing to do with the affairs in which he was interested. He sat down

and began to tell Eldrick about his own suspicions of Pratt at the time

of Antony Bartle’s death; of what Jabey Naylor had told him about the

paper taken from the History of Barford; of the lad’s account of the

old man’s doings immediately afterwards; and of his own proceedings

which had led him to believe for the time being that his suspicions were

groundless.

 

“But now,” he went on, “a new idea occurs to me. Suppose that that

paper, found by my grandfather in a book which had certainly belonged to

the late John Mallathorpe, was something important relating to Mrs.

Mallathorpe? Suppose that my grandfather brought it across here to you?

Suppose that finding you out, he showed it to Pratt? As my grandfather

died suddenly, with nobody but Pratt there, what was there to prevent

Pratt from appropriating that paper if he saw that it would give him a

hold over Mrs. Mallathorpe? We know now that he has some document in his

possession which does give him a hold—may it not be that of which the

boy Naylor told me?”

 

“Might be,” agreed Eldrick. “But—my opinion is, taking things all

together, that the paper which Antony Bartle found was the one you

yourself discovered later—the list of books. No—I’ll tell you what I

think. I believe that the document which Pratt told Miss Mallathorpe he

holds, and to which her mother referred in the letter asking Pratt to

meet her, is probably—most probably!—one which he discovered in

searching out his relationship to Mrs. Mallathorpe. He’s a cute

chap—and he may have found some document which—well, I’ll tell you

what it might be—something which would upset the rights of Harper

Mallathorpe to his uncle’s estates. No other relatives came forward, or

were heard of, or were discoverable when John Mallathorpe was killed in

that chimney accident; but there may be some—there may be one in

particular. That’s my notion!—and I intend, in the first place, to make

a personal search of the parish registers from which Pratt got his

information. He may have discovered something there which he’s keeping

to himself.”

 

“You think that is the course to adopt?” asked Collingwood, after a

moment’s reflection.

 

“At present—yes,” replied Eldrick. “And while I’m making it—I’ll do it

myself—we’ll just go on outwardly—as if nothing had happened. If I

meet Pratt—as I shall—I shall not let him see that I know anything. Do

you go on in just the usual way. Go out to Normandale Grange now and

then—and tell Miss Mallathorpe to think no more of her interview with

Pratt until we’ve something to talk to her about. You talk to her

about—something else.”

 

When Collingwood had left him Eldrick laid a telegram form on his

plotting pad, and after a brief interval of thought wrote out a message

addressed to the people whose advertisement had attracted Pascoe’s

attention.

 

“HALSTEAD & BYNER, 56B, St. Martin’s Chambers, London, W.C.

 

“I can give you definite information concerning James Parrawhite

if you will send representative to see me personally.

 

“CHARLES ELDRICK, Eldrick & Pascoe, Solicitors, Barford.”

 

After Eldrick had sent off a clerk with this message to the nearest

telegraph office, he sat thinking for some time. And at the close of his

meditations, and after some turning over of a diary which lay on his

desk, he picked up pen and paper, and drafted an advertisement of his

own.

 

“TEN POUNDS REWARD will be paid to any person who can give

reliable and useful information as to James Parrawhite, who

until November last was a clerk in the employ of Messrs. Eldrick

& Pascoe, Solicitors, Barford, and who is believed to have left

the town on the evening of November 23.—Apply to Mr. CHARLES

ELDRICK, of the above firm.”

 

“Worth risking ten pounds on—anyway,” muttered Eldrick. “Whether these

London people will cover it or not. Here!” he went on, turning to a

clerk who had just entered the room. “Make three copies of this

advertisement, and take one to each of the three newspaper offices, and

tell ‘em to put it in their personal column tonight.”

 

He sat musing for some time after he was left alone again, and when he

at last rose, it was with a shake of the head.

 

“I wonder if Pratt told me the truth that morning?” he said to himself.

“Anyway, he’s now being proved to be even deeper than I’d ever

considered him. Well—other folk than Pratt are possessed of pretty good

wits.”

 

Before he left the office that evening Eldrick was handed