The Talleyrand Maxim, J. S. Fletcher [books to read fiction TXT] 📗
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
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a Sunday. And it were on a Sunday, too, ‘at I got to know this here
James Parrawhite as you want to know summat about. He began coming to my
place of a Sunday evenin’, d’ye see, gentlemen?—he’d walk across t’
valley up there to Whitcliffe and stop an hour or two, enjoyin’ hisself.
Well, now, as you’re no doubt well aweer, Mr. Eldrick, he were a reight
hand at talkin’, were yon Parrawhite—he’d t’ gift o’ t’ gab reight
enough, and talked well an’ all. And of course him an’ me, we hed bits
o’ conversation at times, ‘cause he come to t’ house reg’lar and
sometimes o’ week-nights an’ all. An’ he tell’d me ‘at he’d had a deal
o’ experience i’ racin’ matters—whether it were true or not, I couldn’t
say, but–-”
“True enough!” said Eldrick. “He had.”
“Well, so he said,” continued Pickard, “and he was allus tellin’ me ‘at
he could make a pile o’ brass on t’ turf if he only had capital. An’ i’
t’ end, he persuaded me to start what he called investin’ money with him
i’ that way—i’ plain language, it meant givin’ him brass to put on
horses ‘at he said was goin’ to win, d’ye understand?”
“Perfectly,” replied Eldrick. “You gave him various amounts which he was
to stake for you.”
“Just so, sir! And at first,” said Pickard, with a shake of the head,
“at first I’d no great reason to grumble. He cert’ny wor a good hand at
spottin’ a winner. But as time went on, I’ t’ greatest difficulty in
gettin’ a settlement wi’ him, d’ye see? He wor just as good a hand at
makin’ excuses as he wor at pickin’ out winners—better, I think! I
nivver knew wheer I was wi’ him—he’d pay up, and then he’d persuade me
to go in for another do wi’ t’ brass I’d won, and happen we should lose
that time, and then of course we had to hev another investment to get
back what we’d dropped, and so it went on. But t’ end wor this
here—last November theer wor about fifty to sixty pound o’ mine i’ his
hands, and I wanted it. I’d a spirit merchant’s bill to settle, and I
wanted t’ brass badly for that. I knew Parrawhite had been paid, d’ye
see, by t’ turf agent, ‘at he betted wi’, and I plagued him to hand t’
brass over to me. He made one excuse and then another—howsumivver, it
come to that very day you’re talkin’ about i’ your advertisement, Mr.
Eldrick—the twenty-third o’ November–-”
“Stop a minute, Mr. Pickard,” interrupted Eldrick. “Now, how do you
know—for a certainty—that this day you’re going to talk about was the
twenty-third of November?”
The landlord, who had removed his hands from his pockets, and was now
twiddling a pair of fat thumbs as he talked, chuckled slyly.
“For a very good reason,” he answered. “I had to pay that spirit bill I
tell’d about just now on t’ twenty-fourth, and that I’m going to tell
you happened t’ night afore t’ twenty-fourth, so of course it were t’
twenty-third. D’ye see?”
“I see,” asserted Eldrick. “That’ll do! And now—what did happen?”
“This here,” replied Pickard. “On that night—t’ twenty-third
November—Parrawhite came into t’ Green Man at about, happen,
half-past eight. He come into t’ little private parlour to me, bold as
brass—as indeed, he allers wor. ‘Ye’re a nice un!’ I says. ‘I’ve
written yer three letters durin’ t’ last week, and ye’ve nivver answered
one o’ ‘em!’ ‘I’ve come to answer i’ person,’ he says. ‘There’s nobbut
one answer I want,’ says I. ‘Wheer’s my money?’ ‘Now then, be quiet a
bit,’ he says. ‘You shall have your money before the evening’s over,’ he
says. ‘Or, if not, as soon as t’ banks is open tomorrow mornin’,’ he
says. ‘Wheer’s it coomin’ from?’ says I. ‘Now, never you mind,’ he says.
‘It’s safe!’ ‘I don’t believe a word you’re sayin’,’ says I. ‘Ye’re
havin’ me for t’ mug!—that’s about it.’ An’ I went on so at him, ‘at i’
t’ end he tell’d me ‘at he wor presently goin’ to meet Pratt, and ‘at he
could get t’ brass out o’ Pratt an’ as much more as iwer he liked to ax
for. Well, I don’t believe that theer, and I said so. ‘What brass has
Pratt?’ says I. ‘Pratt’s nowt but a clerk, wi’ happen three or four
pound a week!’ ‘That’s all you know,’ he says. ‘Pratt’s become a gold
mine, and I’m going to dig in it a bit. What’s it matter to you,’ he
says, ‘so long as you get your brass?’ Well, of course, that wor true
enough—all ‘at I wanted just then were to handle my brass. And I tell’d
him so. ‘I’ll brek thy neck, Parrawhite,’ I says, ‘if thou doesn’t bring
me that theer money eyther tonight or t’ first thing tomorrow—so now!’
‘Don’t talk rot!’ he says. ‘I’ve told you!’ And he had money wi’ him
then—‘nough to pay for drinks and cigars, any road, and we had a drink
or two, and a smoke or two, and then he went out, sayin’ he wor goin’ to
meet Pratt, and he’d be back at my place before closin’ time wi’ either
t’ cash or what ‘ud be as good. An’ I waited—and waited after closin’
time, an’ all. But I’ve nivver seen Parrawhite from that day to
this–nor heerd tell on him neither!”
Eldrick and Byner looked at each other for a moment. Then the solicitor
spoke—quietly and with a significance which the agent understood.
“Do you want to ask Mr. Pickard any questions?” he said.
Byner nodded and turned to the landlord.
“Did Parrawhite tell you where he was going to meet Pratt?” he asked.
“He did,” replied Pickard. “Near Pratt’s lodgin’ place.”
“Did—or does—Pratt live near you, then?”
“Closish by—happen ten minutes’ walk. There’s few o’ houses—a sort o’
terrace, like, on t’ edge o’ what they call Whitcliffe Moor. Pratt
lodged—lodges now for all I know to t’ contrary—i’ one o’ them.”
“Did Parrawhite give you any idea that he was going to the house in
which Pratt lodged?”
“No! He were not goin’ to t’ house. I know he worn’t. He tell’d me ‘at
he’d a good idea what time Pratt ‘ud be home, ‘cause he knew where he
was that evening and he were goin’ to meet him just afore Pratt got to
his place. I know where he’d meet him.”
“Where?” asked Byner. “Tell me exactly. It’s important.”
“Pratt ‘ud come up fro’ t’ town i’ t’ tram,” answered Pickard. “He’d
approach this here terrace I tell’d you about by a narrow lane that runs
off t’ high road. He’d meet him there, would Parrawhite.”
“Did you ever ask any question of Pratt about Parrawhite?”
“No—never! I’d no wish that Pratt should know owt about my dealin’s
with Parrawhite. When Parrawhite never come back—why, I kep’ it all to
myself, till now.”
“What do you think happened to Parrawhite, Mr. Pickard?” asked Byner.
“Gow, I know what I think!” replied Pickard disgustedly. “I think ‘at if
he did get any brass out o’ Pratt—which is what I know nowt about, and
hewn’t much belief in—he went straight away fro’ t’ town—vanished! I
do know this—he nivver went back to his lodgin’s that neet, ‘cause I
went theer mysen next day to inquire.”
Eldrick pricked up his ears at that. He remembered that he had sent
Pratt to make inquiry at Parrawhite’s lodgings on the morning whereon
the money was missing.
“What time of the day—on the twenty-fourth—was that, Mr. Pickard?” he
asked.
“Evenin’, sir,” replied the landlord. “They’d nivver seen naught of him
since he went out the day before. Oh, he did me, did Parrawhite! Of
course, I lost mi brass—fifty odd pounds!”
Byner gave Eldrick a glance.
“I think Mr. Pickard has earned the ten pounds you offered,” he said.
Eldrick took the hint and pulled out his chequebook.
“Of course, you’re to keep all this private—strictly private, Mr.
Pickard,” he said as he wrote. “Not a word to a soul!”
“Just as you order, sir,” agreed Pickard. “I’ll say nowt—to nobody.”
“And—perhaps tomorrow—perhaps this afternoon—you’ll see me at the
Green Man,” remarked Byner. “I shall just drop in, you know. You
needn’t know me—if there’s anybody about.”
“All right, sir—I understand,” said Pickard.
“Quiet’s the word—what? Very good—much obliged to you, gentlemen.”
When the landlord had gone Eldrick motioned Byner to pick up his hat.
“Come across the street with me,” he said. “I want us to have a
consultation with a friend of mine, a barrister, Mr. Collingwood. For
this matter is assuming a very queer aspect, and we can’t move too
warily, nor consider all the features too thoroughly.”
Collingwood listened with deep interest to Eldrick’s account of the
morning’s events. And once again he was struck by the fact that all
these various happenings in connection with Pratt, and now with
Parrawhite, took place at the time of Antony Bartle’s death, and he said
so.
“True enough!” agreed Eldrick.
“And once more,” pointed out Collingwood. “We’re hearing of a hold!
Pratt claims to have a hold on Mrs. Mallathorpe—now it turns out that
Parrawhite boasted of a hold on Pratt. Suppose all these things have a
common origin? Suppose the hold which Parrawhite had—or has—on Pratt
is part and parcel of the hold which Pratt has on Mrs. Mallathorpe? In
that case—or cases—what is the best thing to do?”
“Will you gentlemen allow me to suggest something?” said Byner. “Very
well—find Parrawhite! Of all the people concerned in this, Parrawhite,
from your account of him, anyway, Mr. Eldrick, is the likeliest person
to extract the truth from.”
“There’s a great deal in that suggestion,” said Eldrick. “Do you know
what I think?” he went on, turning to Collingwood, “Mr. Byner tells me
he means to stay here until he has come across some satisfactory news of
Parrawhite or solved the mystery of his disappearance. Well, now that
we’ve found that there is some ground for believing that Parrawhite was
in some fashion mixed up with Pratt about that time, why not place the
whole thing in Mr. Byner’s hands—let him in any case see what he can do
about the Parrawhite-Pratt business of November twenty-third, eh?”
“I take it,” answered Collingwood, looking at the inquiry agent, “that
Mr. Byner having heard what he has, would do that quite apart from us?”
“Yes,” said Byner. “Now that I’ve heard what Pickard had to say, I
certainly shall follow that up.”
“I am following out something of my own,” said Collingwood, turning to
Eldrick. “I shall know more by this time tomorrow. Let us have a
conference here—at noon.”
They separated on that understanding, and Byner went his own ways. His
first proceeding was to visit, one after another, the Barford newspaper
offices, and to order the insertion in large type, and immediately, of
the Halstead-Byner advertisement for news of Parrawhite. His second was
to seek the General Post Office, where he wrote out and dispatched a
message to his partner in London. That message was in cypher—translated
into English, it read as follows:—
“If person named Pratt sends any communication to us re
Parrawhite, on no account let him know I am in Barford, but
forward whatever he sends to me at once, addressed to H.D.
Black, Central Station Hotel.”
THE EYE-WITNESS
When Collingwood said that he was following out something of his own, he
was
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