CHAPTER V
POINT-BLANK
Mrs. Mallathorpe was alone when Pratt's card was taken to her. Harperand Nesta were playing billiards in a distant part of the big house.Dinner had been over for an hour; Mrs. Mallathorpe, who had known whathard work and plenty of it was, in her time, was trifling over thenewspapers--rest, comfort, and luxury were by no means boring to her.She looked at the card doubtfully--Pratt had pencilled a word or two onit: "Private and important business." Then she glanced at the butler--anelderly man who had been with John Mallathorpe many years before thecatastrophe occurred.
"Who is he, Dickenson?" she asked. "Do you know him?"
"Clerk at Eldrick & Pascoe's, in the town, ma'am," replied the butler."I know the young man by sight."
"Where is he?" inquired Mrs. Mallathorpe.
"In the little morning room, at present, ma'am," said Dickenson.
"Take him into the study," commanded Mrs. Mallathorpe. "I'll come to himpresently." She was utterly at a loss to understand Pratt's presencethere. Eldrick & Pascoe were not her solicitors, and she had no businessof a legal nature in which they could be in any way concerned. But itsuddenly struck her that that was the second time she had heardEldrick's name mentioned that day--young Mr. Collingwood had said thathis grandfather's death had taken place at Eldrick & Pascoe's office.Had this clerk come to see her about that?--and if so, what had she todo with it? Before she reached the room in which Pratt was waiting forher, Mrs. Mallathorpe was filled with curiosity. But in that curiositythere was not a trace of apprehension; nothing suggested to her that hervisitor had called on any matter actually relating to herself or herfamily.
The room into which Pratt had been taken was a small apartment openingout of the library--John Mallathorpe, when he bought Normandale Grange,had it altered and fitted to suit his own tastes, and Pratt, as soon ashe entered it, saw that it was a place in which privacy and silencecould be ensured. He noticed that it had double doors, and that therewere heavy curtains before the window. And during the few minutes whichelapsed between his entrance and Mrs. Mallathorpe's, he took theprecaution to look behind those curtains, and to survey hissurroundings--what he had to say was not to be overheard, if he couldhelp it.
Mrs. Mallathorpe looked her curiosity as soon as she came in. She didnot remember that she had ever seen this young man before, but sherecognized at once that he was a shrewd and sharp person, and she knewfrom his manner that he had news of importance to give her. She quietlyacknowledged Pratt's somewhat elaborate bow, and motioned him to take achair at the side of the big desk which stood before the fireplace--sheherself sat down at the desk itself, in John Mallathorpe's oldelbow-chair. And Pratt thought to himself that however much young HarperJohn Mallathorpe might be nominal master of Normandale Grange, the realmaster was there, in the self-evident, quiet-looking woman who turned tohim in business-like fashion.
"You want to see me?" said Mrs. Mallathorpe. "What is it?"
"Business, Mrs. Mallathorpe," replied Pratt. "As I said on my card--of aprivate and important sort."
"To do with me?" she asked.
"With you--and with your family," said Pratt. "And before we go anyfurther, not a soul knows of it but--me."
Mrs. Mallathorpe took another searching look at her visitor. Pratt wasleaning over the corner of the desk, towards her; already he had loweredhis tones to the mysterious and confidential note.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Go on."
Pratt bent a little nearer.
"A question or two first, if you please, Mrs. Mallathorpe. And--answerthem! They're for your own good. Young Mr. Collingwood called on youtoday."
"Well--and what of it?"
"What did he want?"
Mrs. Mallathorpe hesitated and frowned a little. And Pratt hastened toreassure her. "I'm using no idle words, Mrs. Mallathorpe, when I sayit's for your own good. It is! What did he come for?"
"He came to ask what there was in a letter which his grandfather wroteto me yesterday afternoon."
"Antony Bartle had written to you, had he? And what did he say, Mrs.Mallathorpe? For that is important!"
"No more than that he wanted me to call on him today, if I happened tobe in Barford."
"Nothing more?"
"Nothing more--not a word."
"Nothing as to--why he wanted to see you?"
"No! I thought that he probably wanted to see me about buying some booksof the late Mr. Mallathorpe's."
"Did you tell Collingwood that?" asked Pratt, eagerly.
"Yes--of course."
"Did it satisfy him?"
Mrs. Mallathorpe frowned again.
"Why shouldn't I?" she demanded. "It was the only explanation I couldpossibly give him. How do I know what the old man really wanted?"
Pratt drew his chair still nearer to the desk. His voice dropped to awhisper and his eyes were full of meaning.
"I'll tell you what he wanted!" he said speaking very slowly. "It's whatI've come for. Listen! Antony Bartle came to our office soon after fiveyesterday afternoon. I was alone--everybody else had gone. I took himinto Eldrick's room. He told me that in turning over one of the bookswhich he had bought from Mallathorpe Mill, some short time ago, he hadfound--what do you think?"
Mrs. Mallathorpe's cheek had flushed at the mention of the books fromthe Mill. Now, at Pratt's question, and under his searching eye, sheturned very pale, and the clerk saw her fingers tighten on the arms ofher chair.
"What?" she asked. "What?"
"John Mallathorpe's will!" he answered. "Do you understand? His--will!"
The woman glanced quickly about her--at the doors, the uncurtainedwindow.
"Safe enough here," whispered Pratt. "I made sure of that. Don't beafraid--no one knows--but me."
But Mrs. Mallathorpe seemed to find some difficulty in speaking, andwhen she at last got out a word her voice sounded hoarse.
"Impossible!"
"It's a fact!" said Pratt. "Nothing was ever more a fact as you'll see.But let me finish my story. The old man told me how he'd found thewill--only half an hour before--and he asked me to ring up Eldrick, sothat we might all read it together. I went to the telephone--when I cameback, Bartle was dead--just dead. And--I took the will out of hispocket."
Mrs. Mallathorpe made an involuntary gesture with her right hand. AndPratt smiled, craftily, and shook his head.
"Much too valuable to carry about, Mrs. Mallathorpe," he said. "I've gotit--all safe--under lock and key. But as I've said--nobody knows of itbut myself. Not a living soul. No one has any idea! No one can have anyidea. I was a bit alarmed when I heard that young Collingwood had beento you, for I thought that the old man, though he didn't tell me of anysuch thing, might have dropped you a line saying what he'd found. But ashe didn't--well, not one living soul knows that the will's inexistence, except me--and you!"
Mrs. Mallathorpe was regaining her self-possession. She had had a greatshock, but the worst of it was over. Already she knew, from Pratt'smanner, insidious and suggesting, that the will was of a nature thatwould dispossess her and hers of this recently acquired wealth--theclerk had made that evident by look and tone. So--there was nothing butto face things.
"What--what does it--say?" she asked, with an effort.
Pratt unbuttoned his overcoat, plunged a hand into the inner pocket,drew out a sheet of paper, unfolded it and laid it on the desk.
"An exact copy," he said tersely. "Read it for yourself."
In spite of the determined effort which she made to be calm, Mrs.Mallathorpe's fingers still trembled as she took up the sheet on whichPratt had made a fair copy of the will. The clerk watched her narrowlyas she read. He knew that presently there would be a tussle betweenthem: he knew, too, that she was a woman who would fight hard in defenceof her own interest, and for the interests of her children.
Always keeping his ears open to local gossip, especially where money wasconcerned, Pratt had long since heard that Mrs. Mallathorpe was a keenand sharp business woman.
And now he was not surprised when, havingslowly and carefully read the copy of the will from beginning to end,she laid it down, and turned to him with a business-like question.
"The effect of that?" she asked. "What would it be--curtly?"
"Precisely what it says," answered Pratt. "Couldn't be clearer!"
"We--should lose all?" she demanded, almost angrily. "All?"
"All--except what he says--there," agreed Pratt.
"And that," she went on, drumming her fingers on the paper, "that--wouldstand?"
"What it's a copy of would stand," said Pratt. "Oh, yes, don't you makeany mistake about it, Mrs. Mallathorpe! Nothing can upset that will. Itis plain as a pikestaff how it came to be made. Your late brother-in-lawevidently wrote his will out--it's all in his own handwriting--and tookit down to the Mill with him the very day of the chimney accident. Justas evidently he signed it in the presence of his manager, Gaukrodger,and his cashier, Marshall--they signed at the same time, as it says,there. Now I take it that very soon after that, Mr. Mallathorpe went outinto his mill yard to have a look at the chimney--Gaukrodger andMarshall went with him. Before he went, he popped the will into thebook, where old Bartle found it yesterday--such things are easily done.Perhaps he was reading the book--perhaps it lay handy--he slipped thewill inside, anyway. And then--he was killed--and, what's more the twowitnesses were killed with him. So there wasn't a man left who couldtell of that will! But--there's half Barford could testify to thesethree signatures! Mrs. Mallathorpe, there's not a chance for you if Iput that will into the hands of the two trustees!"
He leaned back in his chair after that--nodding confidently, watchingkeenly. And now he saw that the trembling fingers were interlacing eachother, twisting the rings on each other, and that Mrs. Mallathorpe wasthinking as she had most likely never thought in her life. After amoment's pause Pratt went on. "Perhaps you didn't understand," he said."I mean, you don't know the effect. Those two trustees--Charlesworth &Wyatt--could turn you all clean out of this--tomorrow, in a way ofspeaking. Everything's theirs! They can demand an account of every pennythat you've all had out of the estate and the business--from the timeyou all took hold. If anything's been saved, put aside, they can demandthat. You're entitled to nothing but the three amounts of ten thousandeach. Of course, thirty thousand is thirty thousand--it means, at fiveper cent., fifteen hundred a year--if you could get five per cent.safely. But--I should say your son and daughter are getting a fewthousand a year each, aren't they, Mrs. Mallathorpe? It would be a nicecome-down! Five hundred a year apiece--at the outside. A small houseinstead of Normandale Grange. Genteel poverty--comparativelyspeaking--instead of riches. That is--if I hand over the will toCharlesworth & Wyatt."
Mrs. Mallathorpe slowly turned her eyes on Pratt. And Pratt suddenlyfelt a little afraid--there was anger in those eyes; anger of a curioussort. It might be against fate--against circumstance: it might not--whyshould it?--be against him personally, but it was there, and it wasmalign and almost evil, and it made him uncomfortable.
"Where is the will!" she asked.
"Safe! In my keeping," answered Pratt.
She looked him all over--surmisingly.
"You'll sell it to me?" she suggested. "You'll hand it over--and let meburn it--destroy it?"
"No!" answered Pratt. "I shall not!"
He saw that his answer produced personal anger at last. Mrs. Mallathorpegave him a look which would have warned a much less observant man thanPratt. But he gave her back a look that was just as resolute.
"I say no--and I mean no!" he continued. "I won't sell--but I'llbargain. Let's be plain with each other. You don't want that will to behanded over to the trustees named in it, Charlesworth & Wyatt?"
"Do you think I'm a fool--man!" she flashed out.
"I should be a fool myself if I did," replied Pratt calmly. "And I'm nota fool. Very well--then you'll square me. You'll buy me. Come to termswith me, and nobody shall ever know. I repeat to you what I've saidbefore--not a soul knows now, no nor suspects! It's utterly impossiblefor anybody to find out. The testator's dead. The attesting witnessesare dead. The man who found this will is dead. No one but you and myselfever need know a word about all this. If--you make terms with me, Mrs.Mallathorpe."
"What do you want?" she asked sullenly. "You forget--I've nothing of myown. I didn't come into anything."
"I've a pretty good notion who's real master here--and at MallathorpeMill, too," retorted Pratt. "I should say you're still in full controlof your children, Mrs. Mallathorpe, and that you can do pretty well whatyou like with them."
"With one of them perhaps," she said, still angry and sullen. "But--Itell you, for you may as well know--if my daughter knew of what you'vetold me, she'd go straight to these trustees and tell! That's a factthat you'd better realize. I can't control her."
"Oh!" remarked Pratt. "Um!--then we must take care that she doesn'tknow. But we don't intend that anybody should know but you and me, Mrs.Mallathorpe. You needn't tell a soul--not even your son. You mustn'ttell! Listen, now--I've thought out a good scheme which'll profit me,and make you safe. Do you know what you want on this estate?"
She stared at him as if wondering what this question had to do with thematter which was of such infinite importance. And Pratt smiled, andhastened to enlighten her.
"You want--a steward," he said. "A steward and estate agent. JohnMallathorpe managed everything for himself, but your son can't, andpardon me if I say that you can't--properly. You need a man--you needme. You can persuade your son to that effect. Give me the job of stewardhere. I'll suggest to you how to do it in such a fashion that it'llarouse no suspicion, and look just like an ordinary--veryordinary--business job--at a salary and on conditions to be arranged,and--you're safe! Safe, Mrs. Mallathorpe--you know what that means!"
Mrs. Mallathorpe suddenly rose from her chair.
"I know this!" she said. "I'll discuss nothing, and do nothing, tillI've seen that will!"
Pratt rose, too, nodding his head as if quite satisfied. He took up thecopy, tore it in two pieces, and carefully dropped them into the glowingfire.
"I shall be at my lodgings at any time after five-thirty tomorrowevening," he answered quietly. "Call there. You have the address. Andyou can then read the will with your own eyes. I shan't bring it here.The game's in my hands, Mrs. Mallathorpe."
Within a few minutes he was out in the park again, and making his way tothe little railway station in the valley below. He felt triumphant--heknew that the woman he had just left was at his mercy and would accedeto his terms. And all the way back to town, and through the town to hislodgings, he considered and perfected the scheme he was going to suggestto Mrs. Mallathorpe on the morrow.
Pratt lived in a little hamlet of old houses on the very outskirts ofBarford--on the edge of a stretch of Country honeycombed bystone-quarries, some in use, some already worked out. It was a lonelyneighbourhood, approached from the nearest tramway route by a narrow,high-walled lane. He was half-way along that lane when a stealthy footstole to his side, and a hand was laid on his arm--just as stealthilycame the voice of one of his fellow-clerks at Eldrick & Pascoe's.
"A moment, Pratt! I've been waiting for you. I want--a word or two--inprivate!"