The Talleyrand Maxim by J. S. Fletcher (important of reading books TXT) š
CHAPTER II
IN TRUST
As quietly and composedly as if he were discharging the most ordinary of his daily duties, Pratt unfolded the document, and went close to the solitary gas jet above Eldrick's desk. What he held in his hand was a half-sheet of ruled foolscap paper, closely covered with writing,
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believe thereās the slightest risk. Iāve figured everything out. I donāt
believe thereās any danger from Collingwood or from anybodyāitās
impossible! And if we take cash nowāweāre selling for a penny what we
ought to get pounds for.ā
āThe present is much more important than the future, my friend,ā
answered Parrawhite. āTo me, at any rate. Now, then, this is my
proposal. Iāll be with you when this lady calls at your place tomorrow
evening. Weāll offer her the will, to do what she likes with, for ten
thousand pounds. She can find thatāquickly. When she paysāas she
will!āwe share, equally, and thenāwell, you can go to the devil! I
shall goāsomewhere else. So thatās settled.ā
āNo!ā said Pratt.
Parrawhite turned sharply, and Pratt saw a sinister gleam in his eyes.
āDid you say no?ā he asked.
āI saidāno!ā replied Pratt. āIām not going to take five thousand pounds
for a chance thatās worth fifty thousand. Hang you!āif you hadnāt been
a black sneak-thief, as you are, Iād have had the whole thing to myself!
And I donāt know that I will give way to you. If it comes to it, my
wordās as good as yoursāand I donāt believe Eldrick would believe you
before me. Pascoe wouldnāt anyway. Youāve got a past!āin quod, I should
thinkāmy pastās all right. Iāve a jolly good mind to let you do your
worstāafter all, Iāve got the will. And by george! now I come to think
of it, you can do your worst! Tell what you like tomorrow morning. I
shall tell āem what you areāa scoundrel.ā
He turned away at thatāand as he turned, Parrawhite, with a queer cry
of rage that might have come from some animal which saw its prey
escaping, struck out at him with the heavy stick. The blow missed
Prattās head, but it grazed the tip of his ear, and fell slantingly on
his left shoulder. And then the anger that had been boiling in Pratt
ever 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 before
Parrawhite could move, and after choking and shaking him until his teeth
rattled and his breath came in jerking sobs, flung him violently against
the masses of stone by which they had been standing.
Pratt was of considerable physical strength. He played cricket and
football; he visited a gymnasium thrice a week. His hands had the grip
of a blacksmith; his muscles were those of a prize-fighter. He had put
more strength than he was aware of into his fierce grip on Parrawhiteās
throat; he had exerted far more force than he knew he was exerting, when
he flung him away. He heard a queer cracking sound as the man struck
something, and for the moment he took no notice of itāthe pain of that
glancing blow on his shoulder was growing acute, and he began to rub it
with his free hand and to curse its giver.
āGet up, you fool, and Iāll give you some more!ā he growled. āIāll teach
you toā-ā
He suddenly noticed the curiously still fashion in which Parrawhite was
lying where he had flung himānoticed, too, as a cloud passed the moon
and left it unveiled, how strangely white the manās face was. And just
as suddenly Pratt forgot his own injury, and dropped on his knees beside
his assailant. An instant later, and he knew that he was once more
confronting death. For Parrawhite was as dead as Antony Bartleāviolent
contact of his head with a rock had finished what Pratt had nearly
completed with that vicious grip. There was no questioning it, no
denying itāPratt was there in that lonely place, staring half
consciously, half in terror, at a dead man.
He stood up at last, cursing Parrawhite with the anger of despair. He
had not one scrap of pity for him. All his pity was for himself. That he
should have been brought into this!āthat this vile little beast,
perfect scum that he was, should have led him to what might be the utter
ruin of his career!āit was shameful, it was abominable, it was cruel!
He felt as if he could cheerfully tear Parrawhiteās dead body to pieces.
But even as these thoughts came, others of a more important nature
crowded on them. Forāthere lay a dead man, who was not to be put in
oneās pocket, like a will. It was necessary to hide that thing from the
lightāever that light. Within a few hours, morning would break, and
lonely and deserted as that place was nowadays, some one might pass that
way. Out of sight with him, then!āand quickly.
Pratt was very well acquainted with the spot at which he stood. Those
old quarries had a certain picturesqueness. They had become grass-grown;
ivy, shrubs, trees had clustered about themāthe people who lived in the
few houses half a mile away, sometimes walked around them; the children
made a playground of the place: Pratt himself had often gone into some
quiet corner to read and smoke. And now his quick mind immediately
suggested a safe hiding place for this thing that he could not carry
away with him, and dare not leave to the morning sunāclose by was a
pit, formerly used for some quarrying purpose, which was filled, always
filled, with water. It was evidently of considerable depth; the water
was black in it; the mouth was partly obscured by a maze of shrub and
bramble. It had been like that ever since Pratt came to lodge in that
part of the districtāten or twelve years before; it would probably
remain like that for many a long year to come. That bit of land was
absolutely useless and therefore neglected, and as long as rain fell and
water drained, that pit would always be filled to its brim.
He remembered something else: also close by where he stoodāa heap of
old iron thingsābroken and disused picks, smashed rails, fragments
thrown aside when the last of the limestone had been torn out of the
quarries. Once more luck was playing into his handsāthose odds and ends
might have been put there for the very purpose to which he now meant to
turn them. And being certain that he was alone, and secure, Pratt
proceeded to go about his unpleasant task skilfully and methodically. He
fetched a quantity of the iron, fastened it to the dead manās clothing,
drew the body, thus weighted, to the edge of the pit, and prepared to
slide it into the black water. But there an idea struck him. While he
made these preparations he had had hosts of ideas as to his operations
next morningāthis idea was supplementary to them. Quickly and
methodically he removed the contents of Parrawhiteās pockets to his
ownāeverything: money, watch and chain, even a ring which the dead man
had been evidently vain of. Then he let Parrawhite glide into the
waterāand after him he sent the heavy stick, carefully fastened to a
bar of iron.
Five minutes later, the surface of the water in that pit was as calm and
unruffled as everānot a ripple showed that it had been disturbed. And
Pratt made his way out of the wilderness, swearing that he would never
enter it again.
THE SUPREME INDUCEMENT
Pratt was in Eldrick & Pascoeās office soon after half-past eight next
morning, and for nearly forty minutes he had the place entirely to
himself. But it took only a few of those minutes for him to do what he
had carefully planned before he went to bed the previous night. Shutting
himself into Eldrickās private room, and making sure that he was alone
that time, he immediately opened the drawer in the senior partnerās
desk, wherein Eldrick, culpably enough, as Parrawhite had sneeringly
remarked, was accustomed to put loose money. Eldrick was strangely
careless in that way: he would throw money into that drawer in presence
of his clerksānotes, gold, silver. If it happened to occur to him, he
would take the money out at the end of the afternoon and hand it to
Pratt to lock up in the safe; but as often as not, it did not occur.
Pratt had more than once ventured on a hint which was almost a
remonstrance, and Eldrick had paid no attention to him. He was a
careless, easy-going man in many respects, Eldrick, and liked to do
things in his own way. And after all, as Pratt had decided, when he
found that his hints were not listened to, it was Eldrickās own affair
if he liked to leave the money lying about.
There was money lying about in that drawer when Pratt drew it open; it
was never locked, day or night, or, if it was, the key was left in it.
As soon as he opened it, he saw goldātwo or three sovereignsāand
silverāa little pile of it. And, under a letter weight, four banknotes
of ten pounds each. But this was precisely what Pratt had expected to
see; he himself had handed banknotes, gold, and silver to Eldrick the
previous evening, just after receiving them from a client who had called
to pay his bill. And he had seen Eldrick place them in the drawer, as
usual, and soon afterwards Eldrick had walked out, saying he was going
to the club, and he had never returned.
What Pratt now did was done as the result of careful thought and
deliberation. There was a chequebook lying on top of some papers in the
drawer; he took it up and tore three cheques out of it. Then he picked
up the banknotes, tore them and the abstracted blank cheques into
pieces, and dropped the pieces in the fire recently lighted by the
caretaker. He watched these fragments burn, and then he put the gold and
silver in his hip-pocket, where he already carried a good deal of his
own, and walked out.
Nine oāclock brought the office-boy; a quarter-past nine brought the
clerks; at ten oāclock Eldrick walked in. According to custom, Pratt
went into Eldrickās room with the letters, and went through them with
him. One of them contained a legal document over which the solicitor
frowned a little.
āAsk Parrawhiteās opinion about that,ā he said presently, indicating a
marked paragraph.
āParrawhite has not come in this morning, sir,ā observed Pratt,
gathering up letters and papers. āIāll draw his attention to it when he
arrives.ā
He went into the outer office, only to be summoned back to Eldrick a few
minutes later. The senior partner was standing by his desk, looking a
little concerned, and, thought Pratt, decidedly uncomfortable. He
motioned the clerk to close the door.
āHas Parrawhite come?ā he asked.
āNo,ā replied Pratt, āNot yet, Mr. Eldrick.ā
āIsāis he usually late?ā inquired Eldrick.
āUsually quite punctualāhalf-past nine,ā said Pratt.
Eldrick glanced at his watch; then at his clerk.
āDidnāt you give me some cash last night?ā he asked.
āForty-three pounds nine,ā answered Pratt. āThompsonās bill of costsāhe
paid it yesterday afternoon.ā
Eldrick looked more uncomfortable than ever.
āWellāthe fact is,ā he said, āIāI meant to hand it to you to put in
the safe, Pratt, but I didnāt come back from the club. Andāitās gone!ā
Pratt simulated concernābut not astonishment. And Eldrick pulled open
the drawer, and waved a hand over it.
āI put it down there,ā he said. āVery careless of me, no doubtābut
nothing of this sort has ever happened before, andāhowever, thereās the
unpleasant fact, Pratt. The moneyās gone!ā
Pratt, who had hastily turned over the papers and other contents of the
drawer, shook his head
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