The Talleyrand Maxim by J. S. Fletcher (important of reading books TXT) 📕

THE GREEN MAN

Byner, in taking his firm’s advertisement for Parrawhite to the three

Barford newspaper offices, had done so with a special design—he wanted

Pratt to see that a serious wish to discover Parrawhite was alive in

more quarters than one. He knew that Pratt was almost certain to see

Eldrick’s advertisement in his own name; now he wanted Pratt to see

another advertisement of the same nature in another name. Already he had

some suspicion that Pratt had not told Eldrick the truth about

Parrawhite, and that nothing would suit him so well as that Parrawhite

should never be heard of or mentioned again: now he wished Pratt to

learn that Parrawhite was much wanted, and was likely to be much

mentioned—wherefore the supplementary advertisements with Halstead &

Byner’s name attached. It was extremely unlikely that Pratt could fail

to see those advertisements.

There were three newspapers in Barford: one a morning journal of large

circulation throughout the county; the other two, evening journals,

which usually appeared in three or four editions. As Byner stipulated

for large type, and a prominent position, in the personal column of

each, it was scarcely within the bounds of probability that a townsman

like Pratt would miss seeing the advertisement. Most likely he would see

it in all three newspapers. And if he had also seen Eldrick’s similar

advertisement, he would begin to think, and then–-

“Why, then,” mused Byner, ruminating on his design, “then we will see

what he will do!”

Meanwhile, there was something he himself wanted to do, and on the

morning following his arrival in the town, he set out to do it. Byner

had been much struck by Pickard’s account of his dealings with James

Parrawhite on the evening which appeared to be the very last wherein

Parrawhite was ever seen. He had watched the landlord of the Green Man

closely as he told his story, and had set him down for an honest, if

somewhat sly and lumpish soul, who was telling a plain tale to the best

of his ability. Byner believed all the details of that story—he even

believed that when Parrawhite told Pickard that he would find him fifty

pounds that evening, or early next day, he meant to keep his word. In

the circumstances—as far as Byner could reckon them up from what he had

gathered—it would not have paid Parrawhite to do otherwise. Byner put

the situation to himself in this fashion—Pratt had got hold of some

secret which was being, or could be made to be, highly profitable to

him. Parrawhite had discovered this, and was in a position to blackmail

Pratt. Therefore Parrawhite would not wish to leave Pratt’s

neighbourhood—so long as there was money to be got out of Pratt,

Parrawhite would stick to him like a leech. But if Parrawhite was to

abide peaceably in Barford, he must pay Pickard that little matter of

between fifty and sixty pounds. Accordingly, in Byner’s opinion,

Parrawhite had every honest intention of returning to the Green Man on

the evening of the twenty-third of November after having seen Pratt.

And, in Byner’s further—and very seriously considered—opinion, the

whole problem for solution—possibly involving the solution of other and

more important problems—was this: Did Parrawhite meet Pratt that night,

and if he did what took place between them which prevented Parrawhite

from returning to Pickard?

It was in an endeavour to get at some first stage of a solution of this

problem that Byner, having breakfasted at the Central Hotel on his

second day in the town, went out immediately afterwards, asked his way

to Whitcliffe, and was directed to an electric tram which started from

the Town Hall Square, and after running through a district of tall

warehouses and squat weaving-sheds, began a long and steady climb to the

heights along the town. When he left it, he found himself in a district

eminently characteristic of that part of the country. The tram set him

down at a cross-roads on a high ridge of land. Beneath him lay Barford,

its towers and spires and the gables of its tall buildings showing

amongst the smoke of its many chimneys. All about him lay open ground,

broken by the numerous stone quarries of which Eldrick had spoken, and

at a little distance along one of the four roads at the intersection of

which he stood, he saw a few houses and cottages, one of which, taller

and bigger than the rest, was distinguished by a pole, planted in front

of its stone porch and bearing a swinging sign whereon was rudely

painted the figure of a man in Lincoln green. Byner walked on to this,

entered a flagged hall, and found himself confronting Pickard, who at

sight of him, motioned him into a little parlour behind the bar.

“Mornin’, mister,” said he. “You’ll be all right in here—there’s nobody

about just now, and if my missis or any o’ t’ servant lasses sees yer,

they’ll tak’ yer for a brewer’s traveller, or summat o’ that sort. Come

to hev a look round, like—what?”

“I want to have a look at the place where you told us Parrawhite was to

meet Pratt that night,” replied Byner. “I thought you would perhaps be

kind enough to show me where it is.”

“I will, an’ all—wi’ pleasure,” said the landlord, “but ye mun hev a

drop o’ summat first—try a glass o’ our ale,” he went on, with true

Yorkshire hospitality. “I hev some bitter beer i’ my cellar such as I’ll

lay owt ye couldn’t get t’ likes on down yonder i’ Barford—no, nor i’

London neyther!—I’ll just draw a jug.”

Byner submitted to this evidence of friendliness, and Pickard, after

disappearing into a dark archway and down some deeply worn stone steps,

came back with a foaming jug, the sight of which seemed to give him

great delight. He gazed admiringly at the liquor which he presently

poured into two tumblers, and drew his visitor’s attention to its

colour.

“Reight stuff that, mister—what?” he said. “I nobbut tapped that barril

two days since, and I’d been keepin’ it twelve month, so you’ve come in

for it at what they call t’ opportune moment. I say!” he went on, after

pledging Byner and smacking his lips over the ale. “I heard summat last

night ‘at might be useful to you and Lawyer Eldrick—about this here

Parrawhite affair.”

“Oh!” said Byner, at once interested. “What now?”

“You’ll ha’ noticed, as you come along t’ road just now, ‘at there’s a

deal o’ stone quarries i’ this neighbourhood?” replied Pickard. “Well,

now, of course, some o’ t’ quarry men comes in here. Last night theer

wor sev’ral on ‘em i’ t’ bar theer, talkin’, and one on ‘em wor readin’

t’ evenin’ newspaper—t’ Barford Dispatch. An’ he read out that theer

advertisement about Parrawhite—wi’ your address i’ London at t’ foot on

it. Well, theer wor nowt said, except summat about advertisin’ for

disappeared folk, but later on, one o’ t’ men, a young man, come to me,

private like. ‘I say, Pickard,’ he says, ‘between you an’ me, worrn’t t’

name o’ that man ‘at used to come in here on a Sunday sometimes,

Parrawhite? It runs a’ my mind,’ he says, ”at I’ve heerd you call him

by that name.’ ‘Well, an’ what if it wor?’ I says. ‘Nay, nowt much,’ he

says, ‘but I see fro’ t’ Dispatch ‘at he’s wanted, and I could tell a

bit about him,’ he says. ‘What could ye tell?’ says I—just like that

theer. ‘Why,’ he says, ‘this much—one night t’ last back-end–-’”

“Stop a bit, Mr. Pickard,” interrupted Byner. “What does that mean—that

term ‘back-end’?”

“Why, it means t’ end o’ t’ year!” answered the landlord. “What some

folks call autumn, d’ye understand? ‘One night t’ last back-end,’ says

this young fellow, ‘I wor hengin’ about on t’ quiet at t’ end o’ Stubbs’

Lane,’ he says: ‘T’ truth wor,’ he says, ‘I wor waitin’ for a word wi’ a

young woman ‘at lives i’ that terrace at t’ top o’ Stubbs’ Lane—she wor

goin’ to come out and meet me for half an hour or so. An,’ he says, ‘I

see’d that theer feller ‘at I think I’ve heerd you call Parrawhite, come

out o’ Stubbs’ Lane wi’ that lawyer chap ‘at lives i’ t’ Terrace—Pratt.

I know Pratt,’ he says, ”cause them ‘at he works for—Eldricks—once

did a bit o’ law business for me.’ ‘Where did you see ‘em go to, then?’

says I. ‘I see’d ‘em cross t’ road into t’ owd quarry ground,’ he says.

‘I see’d ‘em plain enough, tho’ they didn’t see me—I wor keepin’ snug

agen ‘t wall—it wor a moonlit night, that,’ he says. ‘Well,’ I says,

‘an’ what now?’ ‘Why,’ he says, ‘d’yer think I could get owt o’ this

reward for tellin that theer?’ So I thowt pretty sharp then, d’ye see,

mister. ‘I’ll tell yer what, mi lad,’ I says. ‘Say nowt to nobody—keep

your tongue still—and I’ll tell ye tomorrow night what ye can do—I

shall see a man ‘at’s on that job ‘tween now and then,’ I says. So theer

it is,” concluded Pickard, looking hard at Byner. “D’yer think this

chap’s evidence ‘ud be i’ your