The Talleyrand Maxim, J. S. Fletcher [books to read fiction TXT] 📗
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
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any price to Pratt to keep them from ever becoming known or operative.
But, as I say, don’t you forget something!”
“What?” asked Collingwood.
Eldrick tapped the edge of the table, emphasizing his words as he spoke
them.
“They can destroy that will whenever they like!” he said. “And once
destroyed, nothing can absolutely prove that it ever existed!”
“The duplicate?” suggested Collingwood.
“Nothing to give us the faintest idea as to its existence!” said
Eldrick.
“We might advertise,” said Collingwood.
“Lots of advertising was done when John Mallathorpe died,” replied the
solicitor. “No!—if any person had had it in possession, it would have
turned up then. It may be—probably is—possibly must be—somewhere—and
may yet come to light. But—there’s another way of getting at Pratt.
Through this Parrawhite affair. Pratt most likely had not the least
notion that he would ever hear of Parrawhite again. He is going to hear
of Parrawhite again! I am convinced now that Parrawhite knew something
about this, and that Pratt squared him and got him away. Aren’t you?” he
asked, turning to Byner.
But Byner smiled quietly and shook his head.
“No!” he answered. “I am not, Mr. Eldrick.”
“You’re not?” exclaimed Eldrick, surprised and wondering that anybody
could fail to agree with him.
“Why not, then?”
“Because,” replied Byner. “I am certain that Pratt murdered Parrawhite
on the night of November twenty-third last. That’s why. He didn’t square
him. He didn’t get him away. He killed him!”
The effect of this straightforward pronouncement of opinion on the two
men who heard it was strikingly different. Collingwood’s face at once
became cold and inscrutable; his lips fixed themselves sternly; his eyes
looked hard into a problematic future. But Eldrick flushed as if a
direct accusation had been levelled at himself, and he turned on the
inquiry agent almost impatiently.
“Murder!” he exclaimed. “Oh, come! I—really, that’s rather a stiff
order! I dare say Pratt’s been up to all sorts of trickery, and even
deviltry—but murder is quite another thing. You’re pretty ready to
accuse him!”
Byner moved his head in Collingwood’s direction—and Eldrick turned and
looked anxiously at Collingwood, who, finding the eyes of both men on
him, opened his hitherto tight-shut lips.
“I think it quite likely!” he said.
Byner laughed softly and looked at the solicitor.
“Just listen to me a minute or two, Mr. Eldrick,” he said. “I’ll sum up
my own ideas on this matter, got from the various details that have been
supplied to me since I came to Barford. Just consider my points one by
one. Let’s take them separately—and see how they fit in.
“1. Mr. Bartle is seen by his shop-boy to take a certain paper from a
book which came from the late John Mallathorpe’s office at Mallathorpe
Mill. He puts that paper in his pocket.
“2. Immediately afterwards Mr. Bartle goes to your office. Nobody is
there but Pratt—as far as Pratt knows.
“3. Bartle dies suddenly—after telling Pratt that the paper is John
Mallathorpe’s will. Pratt steals the will. And the probability is that
Parrawhite, unknown to Pratt, was in that office, and saw him steal it.
Why is that probable? Because—
“4. Next night Parrawhite, who is being pressed for money by Pickard,
tells Pickard that he can get it out of Pratt, over whom he has a hold.
What hold? We can imagine what hold. Anyway—
“5. Parrawhite leaves Pickard to meet Pratt. He did meet Pratt—in
Stubbs’ Lane. He was seen to go with Pratt into the disused quarry. And
there, in my opinion, Pratt killed him—and disposed of his body.
“6. What does Pratt do next? He goes to your office first thing next
morning, and removes certain moneys which you say you carelessly left in
your desk the night before, and tears out certain cheque forms from your
book. When Parrawhite never turns up that morning, you—and
Pratt—conclude that he’s the thief, and that he’s run away.
“7. If you want some proof of the correctness of this last suggestion,
you’ll find it in the fact that no use has ever been made of those blank
cheques, and that—in all probability—the stolen banknotes have never
reached the Bank of England. On that last point I’m making inquiry—but
my feeling is that Pratt destroyed both cheques and banknotes when he
stole them.
“8. This man Parrawhite out of the way, Pratt has a clear field. He’s
got the will. He’s already acquainted Mrs. Mallathorpe with that fact,
and with the terms of the will—whatever they may be. We may be sure,
however, that they are of such a nature as to make her willing to agree
to his demands upon her—and, accidentally, to go to any lengths—upon
which we needn’t touch, at present—towards getting possession of the
will from him.
“9. And the present situation—from Pratt’s standpoint of yesterday—is
this. He’s so sure of his own safety that he doesn’t mind revealing to
the daughter that the mother’s in his power. Why? Because Pratt, like
most men of his sort, cannot believe that self-interest isn’t paramount
with everybody—it’s beyond him to conceive it possible that Miss
Mallathorpe would do anything that might lose her several thousands a
year. He argued—‘So long as I hold that will, nobody and nothing can
make me give it up nor divulge its contents. But I can bind one person
who benefits by it—Miss Mallathorpe, and for the mother’s sake I can
keep the daughter quiet!’ Well—he hasn’t kept the daughter quiet!
She—spoke!
“10. And last—in all such schemes as Pratt’s, the schemer invariably
forgets something. Pratt forgot that there might arise what actually has
arisen—inquiry for Parrawhite. The search for Parrawhite is afoot—and
if you want to get at Pratt, it will have to be through what I firmly
believe to be a fact—his murder of Parrawhite and his disposal of
Parrawhite’s body.
“That’s all, Mr. Eldrick,” concluded Byner who had spoken with much
emphasis throughout. “It all seems very clear to me, and,” he added,
with a glance at Collingwood, “I think Mr. Collingwood is inclined to
agree with most of what I’ve said.”
“Pretty nearly all—if not all,” assented Collingwood. “I think you’ve
put into clear language precisely what I feel. I don’t believe there’s a
shadow of doubt that Pratt killed Parrawhite! And we can—and must—get
at him in that way. What do you suggest?” he continued, turning to
Byner. “You have some idea, of course?”
“First of all,” answered Byner, “we mustn’t arouse any suspicion on
Pratt’s part. Let us work behind the screen. But I have an idea as to
how he disposed of Parrawhite, and I’m going to follow it up this very
day—my first duty, you know, is towards the people who want Parrawhite,
or proof of his death. I propose to–-”
Just then Collingwood’s clerk came in with a telegram.
“Sent on from the Central Hotel, sir,” he answered. “They said Mr.
Black would be found here.”
“That’s mine,” said the inquiry agent. “I left word at the hotel that
they were to send to your chambers if any wire came for me. Allow me.”
He opened the telegram, looked it over, and waiting until the clerk had
gone, turned to his companions. “Here’s a message from my partner, Mr.
Halstead,” he continued. “Listen to what he wires:
“‘Wire just received from Murgatroyd, shipping agent, Peel Row,
Barford. He says Parrawhite left that town for America on
November 24th last and offers further information. Let me know
what to reply!’”
Byner laid the message before Eldrick and Collingwood without further
comment.
THE CAT’SPAW
On the evening of the day whereon Nesta Mallathorpe had paid him the
visit which had resulted in so much plain speech on both sides, Pratt
employed his leisure in a calm review of the situation. He was by no
means dissatisfied, it seemed to him that everything was going very well
for his purposes. He was not at all sorry that Nesta had been to see
him—far from it. He regretted nothing that he had said to her. In his
desperate opinion, his own position was much stronger when she left
him than it was when he opened his office door to her. She now knew,
said Pratt, with what a strong and resourceful man she had to deal: she
would respect him, and have a better idea of him, now that she was aware
of his impregnable position.
Herein Pratt’s innate vanity and his ignorance showed themselves. He had
little knowledge of modern young women, and few ideas about them; and
such ideas as he possessed were usually mistaken ones. But one was that
it is always necessary to keep a firm hand on women—let them see and
feel your power, said Pratt. He had been secretly delighted to acquaint
Nesta Mallathorpe with his power, to drive it into her that he had the
whip hand of her mother, and through her mother, of Nesta herself. He
had seen that Nesta was much upset and alarmed by what he told her. And
though she certainly seemed to recover her spirits at the end of the
interview, and even refused to shake hands with him, he cherished the
notion that in the war of words he had come off a decided victor. He did
not believe that Nesta would utter to any other soul one word of what
had passed between them: she would be too much afraid of calling down
his vengeance on her mother. What he did believe was that as time went
by, and all progressed smoothly, Nesta would come to face and accept
facts: she would find him honest and hardworking in his dealings with
Mrs. Mallathorpe (as he fully intended to be, from purely personal and
selfish motives) and she herself would begin to tolerate and then to
trust him, and eventually—well, who knew what might or might not
happen? What said the great Talleyrand?—WITH TIME AND PATIENCE, THE
MULBERRY LEAF IS TURNED INTO SATIN.
But Pratt’s self-complacency received a shock next morning. If he had
been a reader of London newspapers, it would have received a shock the
day before. Pratt, however, was essentially parochial in his newspaper
tastes—he never read anything but the Barford papers. And when he
picked up the Barford morning journal and saw Eldrick’s advertisement
for Parrawhite in a prominent place, he literally started from sheer
surprise—not unmingled with alarm. It was as if he were the occupant of
a strong position, only fortified, who suddenly finds a shell dropped
into his outworks from a totally unexpected quarter.
Parrawhite! Advertised for by Eldrick! Why? For what reason? For what
purpose? With what idea? Parrawhite!—of all men in the
world—Parrawhite, of whom he had never wanted to hear again! And what
on earth could Eldrick want with him, or with news of him? It would
be—or might be—an uncommonly awkward thing for him, Pratt, if a really
exhaustive search were made for Parrawhite. For nobody knew better than
himself that one little thing leads to another, and—but he forbore to
follow out what might have been his train of thought. Once he was
tempted to make an excuse for going round to Eldrick & Pascoe’s with the
idea of fishing for information—but he refrained. Let things
develop—that was a safer plan. Still, he was anxious and disturbed all
day. Then, towards the end of the afternoon, he bought one of the
Barford evening papers—and saw, in staring letters, the advertisement
which Byner had caused to be inserted only a few hours previously. And
at that, Pratt became afraid.
Parrawhite wanted!—news of Parrawhite wanted!—and in two separate
quarters. Wanted by Eldrick—wanted by some London
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