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

than a human being, his senses having deserted him for a while, he

regained some composure, and glanced about him for means of escape. He

went to the door and tried it. But the old, substantial oak stood firm

and fast—nothing but a crow-bar would break that door. And so he turned

to the mullioned window, set in a deep recess.

He knew that it was thirty or forty feet above the level of the

ground—but there was much thick ivy growing on the walls of Normandale

Grange, and it might be possible to climb down by its aid. With a great

effort he forced open one of the dirt-encrusted sashes and looked

out—and in the same instant he drew in his head with a harsh groan. The

window commanded a full view of the hall door—and he had seen Prydale,

and two other detectives, and the stranger from London whom he believed

to be a detective, hurrying from their motorcar into the house.

There was but one thing for it, now. Esther Mawson had robbed him of

everything that was on him in the way of papers and money. But in his

hip-pocket she had left a revolver which Pratt had carried, always

loaded, for some time. And now, without the least hesitation, he drew it

out and sent one of its bullets through his brain.

*

Eldrick and Collingwood, returning to the hall from the room in which

they and the detectives had found Pratt’s dead body, stood a little

later in earnest conversation with Prydale, who had just come there from

an interview with Esther Mawson. Nesta Mallathorpe suddenly called to

them from the stairs, at the same time beckoning them to go up to her.

“Will you come with me and speak to my mother?” she said. “She knows you

are here, and she wants to say something about what has

happened—something about that document which Pratt said he possessed.”

Eldrick and Collingwood exchanged glances without speaking. They

followed Nesta into her mother’s sitting-room. And instead of the

semi-invalid whom they had expected to find there, they saw a woman who

had evidently regained not only her vivacity and her spirits but her

sense of authority and her inclination to exercise it.

“I am sorry that you gentlemen should have been drawn into all this

wretched business!” she exclaimed, as she pointed the two men to chairs.

“Everything must seem very strange, and indeed have seemed so for some

time. But I have been the victim of as bad a scoundrel as ever

lived—I’m not going to be so hypocritical as to pretend that I’m sorry

he’s dead—I’m not! I only wish he’d met his proper fate—on the

scaffold. I don’t know what you may have heard, or gathered—my daughter

herself, from what she tells me, has only the vaguest notions—but I

wanted to tell you, Mr. Eldrick, and you, Mr. Collingwood—seeing that

you’re one a solicitor and the other a barrister, that Pratt invented a

most abominable plot against me, which, of course, hasn’t a word of

truth in it, yet was so clever that–-”

Eldrick suddenly raised his hand.

“Mrs. Mallathorpe!” he said quietly. “I think you had better let me

speak before you go any further. Perhaps we—Mr. Collingwood and I—know

more than you think. Don’t trifle, Mrs. Mallathorpe, for your own and

your daughter’s sake! Tell the truth—and answer a plain question, which

I assure you, is asked in your own interest. What have you done with

John Mallathorpe’s will?”

Collingwood, anxious for Nesta, was watching her closely, and now he saw

her turn a startled and inquiring look on her mother, who, in her turn,

dashed a surprised glance at Eldrick. But if Mrs. Mallathorpe was

surprised, she was also indignant, or she simulated indignation, and she

replied to the solicitor’s question with a sharp retort.

“What do you mean?—John Mallathorpe’s will!” she exclaimed. “What do I

know of John Mallathorpe’s will? There never was–-”

“Mrs. Mallathorpe!” interrupted Eldrick. “Don’t! I’m speaking in your

interest, I tell you! There was a will! It was made on the morning of

John Mallathorpe’s death. It was found by Mr. Collingwood’s late

grandfather, Antony Bartle: when he died suddenly in my office, it fell

into Pratt’s hands. That is the document which Pratt held over you—and

not an hour ago, Esther Mawson took it from Pratt, and she gave it to

you. Again I ask you—what have you done with it?”

Mrs. Mallathorpe hesitated a moment. Then she suddenly faced Eldrick

with a defiant look. “Let them—let everybody—do what they like!” she

exclaimed. “It’s burnt! I threw it in that fire as soon as I got it! And

now–-”

Nesta interrupted her mother.

“Does any one know the terms of that will?” she asked, looking at

Eldrick. “Tell me!—if you know. Hush!” she went on, as Mrs. Mallathorpe

tried to speak again. “I will know!”

“Yes!” answered Eldrick. “Esther Mawson knows them. She read the will

carefully. She told Prydale just now what they were. With the exception

of three legacies of ten thousand pounds each to your mother, your

brother, and yourself, John Mallathorpe left everything he possessed to

the town of Barford for an educational trust.”

“Then,” asked Nesta quietly, as she made a peremptory sign to her mother

to be silent, “we—never had any right to be here—at all?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Eldrick.

“Then of course we shall go,” said Nesta. “That’s certain! Do you hear

that, mother? That’s my decision. It’s final!”

“You can do what you like,” retorted Mrs. Mallathorpe sullenly. “I am

not going to be frightened by anything that Esther Mawson says. Nor by

what you say!” she continued, turning on Eldrick. “All that has got to

be proved. Who can prove it? What can prove it? Do you think I am going

to give up my rights without fighting for them? I shall swear that every

word of Esther Mawson’s is a lie! No one can bring forward a will that

doesn’t exist. And what concern is it of yours, Mr. Eldrick? What right

have you?”

“You are quite right, Mrs. Mallathorpe,” said Eldrick. “It is no concern

of mine. And so–-”

He turned to the door—and as he turned the door opened, to admit the

old butler who looked apologetically but earnestly at Nesta as he

stepped forward.

“A Mrs. Gaukrodger wishes to see you on very particular business,” he

murmured. “She’s been waiting some little time—something, she says,

about some papers she has just found—belonging to the late Mr. John

Mallathorpe.”

Collingwood, who was standing close to Nesta, caught all the butler

said.

“Gaukrodger!” he exclaimed, with a quick glance at Eldrick. “That was

the name of the manager—a witness. See the woman at once,” he whispered

to Nesta.

“Bring Mrs. Gaukrodger in, Dickenson,” said Nesta. “Stay—I’ll come with

you, and bring her in myself.”

She returned a moment later with a slightly built, rather careworn woman

dressed in deep mourning—the woman in black whom they had seen crossing

the park—who looked nervously round her as she entered.

“What is it you have for me, Mrs. Gaukrodger?” asked Nesta. “Papers

belonging to the late Mr. John Mallathorpe? How—where did you get

them?”

Mrs. Gaukrodger drew a large envelope from under her cloak. “This,

miss,” she answered. “One paper—I only found it this morning. In this

way,” she went on, addressing herself to Nesta. “When my husband was

killed, along with Mr. John Mallathorpe, they, of course, brought home

the clothes he was wearing. There were a lot of papers in the pockets of

the coat—two pockets full of them. And I hadn’t heart or courage to

look at them at that time, miss!—I couldn’t, and I locked them up in a

box. I never looked at them until this very day—but this morning I

happened to open that box, and I saw them, and I thought I’d see what

they were. And this was one—you see, it’s in a plain envelope—it was

sealed, but there’s no writing on it. I cut the envelope open, and drew

the paper out, and I saw at once it was Mr. John Mallathorpe’s will—so

I came straight to you with it.”

She handed the envelope over to Nesta, who at once gave it to Eldrick.

The solicitor hastily drew out the enclosure, glanced it over, and

turned sharply to Collingwood with a muttered exclamation.

“Good gracious!” he said. “That man Cobcroft was right! There was a

duplicate! And here it is!”

Mrs. Mallathorpe had come nearer. The sight of the half sheet of

foolscap in Eldrick’s hands seemed to fascinate her. And the expression

of her face as she came close to his side was so curious that the

solicitor involuntarily folded up the will and hastily put it behind his

back—he had not only seen that expression but had caught sight of Mrs.

Mallathorpe’s twitching fingers.

“Is—that—that—another will?” she whispered. “John Mallathorpe’s?”

“Precisely the same—another copy—duly signed and witnessed!” answered

Eldrick firmly. “What you foolishly did was done for nothing. And—it’s

the most fortunate thing in the world, Mrs. Mallathorpe, that this has

turned up!—most fortunate for you!”

Mrs. Mallathorpe steadied herself on the edge of the table and looked at

him fixedly. “Everything’ll have to be given up?” she asked.

“The terms of this will will be carried out,” answered Eldrick.

“Will—will they make me give up—what we’ve—saved?” she whispered.

“Mother!” said Nesta appealingly. “Don’t! Come away somewhere and let me

talk to you—come!”

But Mrs. Mallathorpe shook off her daughter’s hand and turned again to

Eldrick.

“Will they?” she demanded. “Answer!”

“I don’t think you’ll find the trustees at all hard when it comes to a

question of account,” answered Eldrick. “They’ll probably take matters

over from now and ignore anything that’s happened during the past two

years.”

Again Nesta tried to lead her mother away, and again Mrs. Mallathorpe

pushed the appealing hand from her. All her attention was fixed on

Eldrick. “And—and will the police give me—now—what they found on that

woman?” she whispered.

“I have no doubt they will,” replied Eldrick. “It’s—yours.”

Mrs. Mallathorpe drew a sigh of relief. She looked at the solicitor

steadily for a moment—then without another word she turned and went

away—to find Prydale.

Eldrick turned to Nesta.

“Don’t forget,” he said in a low voice, “it’s a terrible blow to her,

and she’s been thinking of your interests! Leave her alone for a

while—she’ll get used to the altered circumstances. I’m sorry for

her—and for you!”

But Nesta made a sign of dissent.

“There’s no need to be sorry for me, Mr. Eldrick,” she answered. “It’s a

greater relief than you can realize.” She turned from him and went over

to Mrs. Gaukrodger who had watched this scene without fully

comprehending it. “Come with me,” she said. “You look very tired and you

must have some tea and rest awhile—come now.”

Eldrick and Collingwood, left alone, looked at each, other in silence

for a moment. Then the solicitor shook his head expressively.

“Well, that’s over!” he exclaimed. “I must go back and hand this will

over to the two trustees. But you, Collingwood—stay here a bit—if ever

that girl needs company and help, it’s now!”

“I’m stopping,” said Collingwood.

He remained for a time where Eldrick left him; at last he went down to

the hall and out into the gardens. And presently Nesta came to him

there, and as if with a mutual understanding they walked away into the

nearer stretches of the park. Normandale