The Talleyrand Maxim

  CHAPTER VI

  THE UNEXPECTED

  Pratt started when he heard that voice and felt the arresting hand. Heknew well enough to whom they belonged--they were those of one JamesParrawhite, a little, weedy, dissolute chap who had been in Eldrick &Pascoe's employ for about a year. It had always been a mystery to himand the other clerks that Parrawhite had been there at all, and thatbeing there he was allowed to stop. He was not a Barford man. Nobodyknew anything whatever about him, though his occasional references to itseemed to indicate that he knew London pretty thoroughly. Pratt shrewdlysuspected that he was a man whom Eldrick had known in other days,possibly a solicitor who had been struck off the rolls, and to whomEldrick, for old times' sake, was disposed to extend a helping hand.

  All that any of them knew was that one morning some fifteen monthspreviously, Parrawhite, a complete stranger, had walked into the office,asked to see Eldrick, had remained closeted with him half an hour, andhad been given a job at two pounds a week, there and then. That he was aclever and useful clerk no one denied, but no one liked him.

  He was always borrowing half-crowns. He smelt of rum. He was altogetherundesirable. It was plain to the clerks that Pascoe disliked him. But hewas evidently under Eldrick's protection, and he did his work and did itwell, and there was no doubt that he knew more law than either of thepartners, and was better up in practice than Pratt himself. But--he wasnot desirable ... and Pratt never desired him less than on thisoccasion.

  "What are you after--coming on a man like that!" growled Pratt.

  "You," replied Parrawhite. "I knew you'd got to come up this lane, so Iwaited for you. I've something to say."

  "Get it said, then!" retorted Pratt.

  "Not here," answered Parrawhite. "Come down by the quarry--nobody aboutthere."

  "And suppose I don't?" asked Pratt.

  "Then you'll be very sorry for yourself--tomorrow," replied Parrawhite."That's all!"

  Pratt had already realized that this fellow knew something. Parrawhite'smanner was not only threatening but confident. He spoke as a man speakswho has got the whip hand. And so, still growling, and inwardly ragingand anxious, he turned off with his companion into a track which layamongst the stone quarries. It was a desolate, lonely place; no housewas near; they were as much alone as if they had been in the middle ofone of the great moors outside the town, the lights of which they couldsee in the valley below them. In the grey sky above, a waning moon gavethem just sufficient light to see their immediate surroundings--agrass-covered track, no longer used, and the yawning mouths of the oldquarries, no longer worked, the edges of which were thick with gorse andbramble. It was the very place for secret work, and Pratt was certainthat secret work was at hand.

  "Now then!" he said, when they had walked well into the wilderness."What is it? And no nonsense!"

  "You'll get no nonsense from me," sneered Parrawhite. "I'm not thatsort. This is what I want to say. I was in Eldrick's office last nightall the time you were there with old Bartle."

  This swift answer went straight through Pratt's defences. He wasprepared to hear something unpleasant and disconcerting, but not that.And he voiced the first thought that occurred to him.

  "That's a lie!" he exclaimed. "There was nobody there!"

  "No lie," replied Parrawhite. "I was there. I was behind the curtain ofthat recess--you know. And since I know what you did, I don't mindtelling you--we're in the same boat, my lad!--what I was going to do.You thought I'd gone--with the others. But I hadn't. I'd merely donewhat I've done several times without being found out--slipped inthere--to wait until you'd gone. Why? Because friend Eldrick, as youknow, is culpably careless about leaving loose cash in the unlockeddrawer of his desk, culpably careless, too, about never counting it.And--a stray sovereign or half-sovereign is useful to a man who onlygets two quid a week. Understand?"

  "So you're a thief?" said Pratt bitterly.

  "I'm precisely what you are--a thief!" retorted Parrawhite. "You stoleJohn Mallathorpe's will last night. I heard everything, I tell you!--andsaw everything. I heard the whole business--what the old man said--whatyou, later, said to Eldrick. I saw old Bartle die--I saw you take thewill from his pocket, read it, and put it in your pocket. I knowall!--except the terms of the will. But--I've a pretty good idea of whatthose terms are. Do you know why? Because I watched you set off toNormandale by the eight-twenty train tonight!"

  "Hang you for a dirty sneak!" growled Pratt.

  Parrawhite laughed, and flourished a heavy stick which he carried.

  "Not a bit of it!" he said, almost pleasantly. "I thought you were moreof a philosopher--I fancied I'd seen gleams--mere gleams--of philosophyin you at times. Fortunes of war, my boy! Come now--you've seen enoughof me to know I'm an adventurer. This is an adventure of the sort Ilove. Go into it heart and soul, man! Own up!--you've found out that thewill leaves the property away from the present holders, and you've beento Normandale to--bargain? Come, now!"

  "What then!" demanded Pratt.

  "Then, of course, I come in at the bargaining," answered Parrawhite."I'm going to have my share. That's a certainty. You'd better take myadvice. Because you're absolutely in my power. I've nothing to do but totell Eldrick tomorrow morning."

  "Suppose I tell Eldrick tomorrow morning of what you've told me?"interjected Pratt.

  "Eldrick will believe me before you," retorted Parrawhite,imperturbably. "I'm a much cleverer, more plausible man than you are, myfriend--I've had an experience of the world which you haven't, I caneasily invent a fine excuse for being in that room. For two pins I'llincriminate you! See? Be reasonable--for if it comes to a contest ofbrains, you haven't a rabbit's chance against a fox. Tell me all aboutthe will--and what you've done. You've got to--for, by the LordHarry!--I'm going to have my share. Come, now!"

  Pratt stood, in a little hollow wherein they had paused, and thought,rapidly and angrily. There was no doubt about it--he was trapped. Thisfearful scoundrel at his side, who boasted of his cleverness, wouldstick to him like a leach--he would have to share. All his own smartschemes for exploiting Mrs. Mallathorpe, for ensuring himself acompetence for life, were knocked on the head. There was no helpingit--he would have to tell--and to share. And so, sullenly, resentfully,he told.

  Parrawhite listened in silence, taking in every point. Pratt, knowingthat concealment was useless, told the truth about everything,concisely, but omitting nothing.

  "All right!" remarked Parrawhite at the end, "Now, then, what terms doyou mean to insist on?"

  "What's the good of going into that?" growled Pratt. "Now that you'vestuck your foot in it, what do my terms matter?"

  "Quite right," agreed Parrawhite, "They don't. What matter is--ourterms. Now let me suggest--no, insist on--what they must be. Cash! Doyou know why I insist on that? No? Then I'll tell you. Because thisyoung barrister chap, Collingwood, has evidently got some suspicionof--something."

  "I can't see it," said Pratt uneasily. "He was only curious to know whatthat letter was about."

  "Never mind," continued Parrawhite. "He had some suspicion--or hewouldn't have gone out there almost as soon as he reached Barford afterhis grandfather's death. And even if suspicion is put to sleep forawhile, it can easily be reawakened, so--cash! We must profit atonce--before any future risk arises. But--what terms were you thinkingof?"

  "Stewardship of this estate for life," muttered Pratt gloomily.

  "With the risk of some discovery being made, some time, any time!"sneered Parrawhite. "Where are your brains, man? The old fellow, JohnMallathorpe, probably made a draft or two of that will before he did hisfair copy--he may have left those drafts among his papers."

  "If he did, Mrs. Mallathorpe 'ud find 'em," said Pratt slowly. "I don'tbelieve there's the slightest risk. I've figured everything out. I don'tbelieve there's any danger from Collingwood or from anybody--it'simpossible! And if we take cash now--we're selling for a penny what weought to get pounds for."

  "The present is much more important than the future, my frien
d,"answered Parrawhite. "To me, at any rate. Now, then, this is myproposal. I'll be with you when this lady calls at your place tomorrowevening. We'll offer her the will, to do what she likes with, for tenthousand pounds. She can find that--quickly. When she pays--as shewill!--we share, equally, and then--well, you can go to the devil! Ishall go--somewhere else. So that's settled."

  "No!" said Pratt.

  Parrawhite turned sharply, and Pratt saw a sinister gleam in his eyes.

  "Did you say no?" he asked.

  "I said--no!" replied Pratt. "I'm not going to take five thousand poundsfor a chance that's worth fifty thousand. Hang you!--if you hadn't beena black sneak-thief, as you are, I'd have had the whole thing to myself!And I don't know that I will give way to you. If it comes to it, myword's as good as yours--and I don't believe Eldrick would believe youbefore me. Pascoe wouldn't anyway. You've got a past!--in quod, I shouldthink--my past's all right. I've a jolly good mind to let you do yourworst--after all, I've got the will. And by george! now I come to thinkof it, you can do your worst! Tell what you like tomorrow morning. Ishall tell 'em what you are--a scoundrel."

  He turned away at that--and as he turned, Parrawhite, with a queer cryof rage that might have come from some animal which saw its preyescaping, struck out at him with the heavy stick. The blow missedPratt's head, but it grazed the tip of his ear, and fell slantingly onhis left shoulder. And then the anger that had been boiling in Prattever since the touch on his arm in the dark lane, burst out in activity,and he turned on his assailant, gripped him by the throat beforeParrawhite could move, and after choking and shaking him until his teethrattled and his breath came in jerking sobs, flung him violently againstthe masses of stone by which they had been standing.

  Pratt was of considerable physical strength. He played cricket andfootball; he visited a gymnasium thrice a week. His hands had the gripof a blacksmith; his muscles were those of a prize-fighter. He had putmore strength than he was aware of into his fierce grip on Parrawhite'sthroat; he had exerted far more force than he knew he was exerting, whenhe flung him away. He heard a queer cracking sound as the man strucksomething, and for the moment he took no notice of it--the pain of thatglancing blow on his shoulder was growing acute, and he began to rub itwith his free hand and to curse its giver.

  "Get up, you fool, and I'll give you some more!" he growled. "I'll teachyou to----"

  He suddenly noticed the curiously still fashion in which Parrawhite waslying where he had flung him--noticed, too, as a cloud passed the moonand left it unveiled, how strangely white the man's face was. And justas suddenly Pratt forgot his own injury, and dropped on his knees besidehis assailant. An instant later, and he knew that he was once moreconfronting death. For Parrawhite was as dead as Antony Bartle--violentcontact of his head with a rock had finished what Pratt had nearlycompleted with that vicious grip. There was no questioning it, nodenying it--Pratt was there in that lonely place, staring halfconsciously, half in terror, at a dead man.

  He stood up at last, cursing Parrawhite with the anger of despair. Hehad not one scrap of pity for him. All his pity was for himself. That heshould have been brought into this!--that this vile little beast,perfect scum that he was, should have led him to what might be the utterruin of his career!--it was shameful, it was abominable, it was cruel!He felt as if he could cheerfully tear Parrawhite's dead body to pieces.But even as these thoughts came, others of a more important naturecrowded on them. For--there lay a dead man, who was not to be put inone's pocket, like a will. It was necessary to hide that thing from thelight--ever that light. Within a few hours, morning would break, andlonely and deserted as that place was nowadays, some one might pass thatway. Out of sight with him, then!--and quickly.

  Pratt was very well acquainted with the spot at which he stood. Thoseold quarries had a certain picturesqueness. They had become grass-grown;ivy, shrubs, trees had clustered about them--the people who lived in thefew houses half a mile away, sometimes walked around them; the childrenmade a playground of the place: Pratt himself had often gone into somequiet corner to read and smoke. And now his quick mind immediatelysuggested a safe hiding place for this thing that he could not carryaway with him, and dare not leave to the morning sun--close by was apit, formerly used for some quarrying purpose, which was filled, alwaysfilled, with water. It was evidently of considerable depth; the waterwas black in it; the mouth was partly obscured by a maze of shrub andbramble. It had been like that ever since Pratt came to lodge in thatpart of the district--ten or twelve years before; it would probablyremain like that for many a long year to come. That bit of land wasabsolutely useless and therefore neglected, and as long as rain fell andwater drained, that pit would always be filled to its brim.

  He remembered something else: also close by where he stood--a heap ofold iron things--broken and disused picks, smashed rails, fragmentsthrown aside when the last of the limestone had been torn out of thequarries. Once more luck was playing into his hands--those odds and endsmight have been put there for the very purpose to which he now meant toturn them. And being certain that he was alone, and secure, Prattproceeded to go about his unpleasant task skilfully and methodically. Hefetched a quantity of the iron, fastened it to the dead man's clothing,drew the body, thus weighted, to the edge of the pit, and prepared toslide it into the black water. But there an idea struck him. While hemade these preparations he had had hosts of ideas as to his operationsnext morning--this idea was supplementary to them. Quickly andmethodically he removed the contents of Parrawhite's pockets to hisown--everything: money, watch and chain, even a ring which the dead manhad been evidently vain of. Then he let Parrawhite glide into thewater--and after him he sent the heavy stick, carefully fastened to abar of iron.

  Five minutes later, the surface of the water in that pit was as calm andunruffled as ever--not a ripple showed that it had been disturbed. AndPratt made his way out of the wilderness, swearing that he would neverenter it again.