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Page 14
"If you'll allow me to explain why I called on you, Mrs. Mallathorpe,"
said Collingwood, "I don't suppose you ever heard of me--but you know,
at any rate, the name of my grandfather, Mr. Antony Bartle, the
bookseller, of Barford? My grandfather is dead--he died very suddenly
last night."
Mrs. Mallathorpe and Nesta murmured words of polite sympathy. Harper
suddenly spoke--as if mere words were some relief to his obvious
boredom.
"I heard that, this morning," he said, turning to his mother. "Hopkins
told me--he was in town last night. I meant to tell you."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Mallathorpe, glancing at some letters which
stood on a rack above the mantelpiece. "Why--I had a letter from Mr.
Bartle this very morning!"
"It is that letter that I have come to see you about," said Collingwood.
"I only got down here from London at half-past eight this morning, and
of course, I have made some inquiries about the circumstances of my
grandfather's sudden death. He died very suddenly indeed at Mr.
Eldrick's office. He had gone there on some business about which nobody
knows nothing--he died before he could mention it. And according to his
shop-boy, Jabey Naylor, the last thing he did was to write a letter to
you. Now--I have reason for asking--would you mind telling me, Mrs.
Mallathorpe, what that letter was about?" Mrs. Mallathorpe moved over to
the hearth, and took an envelope from the rack. She handed it to
Collingwood, indicating that he could open it. And Collingwood drew out
one of old Bartle's memorandum forms, and saw a couple of lines in the
familiar crabbed handwriting:
"MRS. MALLATHORPE, Normandale Grange.
"Madam,--If you should drive into town tomorrow, will you kindly
give me a call? I want to see you particularly.
"Respectfully, A. BARTLE."
Collingwood handed back the letter.
"Have you any idea to what that refers?" he asked.
"Well, I think I have--perhaps," answered Mrs. Mallathorpe. "Mr. Bartle
persuaded us to sell him some books--local books--which my late
brother-in-law had at his office in the mill. And since then he has been
very anxious to buy more local books and pamphlets about this
neighbourhood, and he had some which Mr. Bartle was very anxious indeed
to get hold of. I suppose he wanted to see me about that." Collingwood
made no remarks for the moment. He was wondering whether or not to tell
what Jabey Naylor had told him about this paper taken from the linen
pocket inside the _History of Barford_. But Mrs. Mallathorpe's ready
explanation had given him a new idea, and he rose from his chair.
"Thank you," he said. "I suppose that's it. You may think it odd that I
wanted to know what he'd written about, but as it was certainly the last
letter he wrote----"
"Oh, I'm quite sure it must have been that!" exclaimed Mrs. Mallathorpe.
"And as I am going into Barford this afternoon, in any case, I meant to
call at Mr. Bartle's. I'm sorry to hear of his death, poor old
gentleman! But he was very old indeed, wasn't he?"
"He was well over eighty," replied Collingwood. "Well, thank you
again--and good-bye--I have a motorcar waiting outside there, and I have
much to do in Barford when I get back."
The two young people accompanied Collingwood into the hall. And Harper
suddenly brightened.
"I say!" he said. "Have a drink before you go. It's a long way in and
out. Come into the dining-room."
But Collingwood caught Nesta's eye, and he was quick to read a signal in
it.
"No, thanks awfully!" he answered. "I won't really--I must get
back--I've such a lot of things to attend to. This is a very beautiful
place of yours," he went on, as Harper, whose face had fallen at the
visitor's refusal, followed with his sister to where the motor-car
waited. "It might be a hundred miles from anywhere."
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