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Page 17
"You want to see me?" said Mrs. Mallathorpe. "What is it?"
"Business, Mrs. Mallathorpe," replied Pratt. "As I said on my card--of a
private and important sort."
"To do with me?" she asked.
"With you--and with your family," said Pratt. "And before we go any
further, not a soul knows of it but--me."
Mrs. Mallathorpe took another searching look at her visitor. Pratt was
leaning over the corner of the desk, towards her; already he had lowered
his tones to the mysterious and confidential note.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Go on."
Pratt bent a little nearer.
"A question or two first, if you please, Mrs. Mallathorpe. And--answer
them! They're for your own good. Young Mr. Collingwood called on you
today."
"Well--and what of it?"
"What did he want?"
Mrs. Mallathorpe hesitated and frowned a little. And Pratt hastened to
reassure her. "I'm using no idle words, Mrs. Mallathorpe, when I say
it's for your own good. It is! What did he come for?"
"He came to ask what there was in a letter which his grandfather wrote
to me yesterday afternoon."
"Antony Bartle had written to you, had he? And what did he say, Mrs.
Mallathorpe? For that is important!"
"No more than that he wanted me to call on him today, if I happened to
be in Barford."
"Nothing more?"
"Nothing more--not a word."
"Nothing as to--why he wanted to see you?"
"No! I thought that he probably wanted to see me about buying some books
of the late Mr. Mallathorpe's."
"Did you tell Collingwood that?" asked Pratt, eagerly.
"Yes--of course."
"Did it satisfy him?"
Mrs. Mallathorpe frowned again.
"Why shouldn't I?" she demanded. "It was the only explanation I could
possibly give him. How do I know what the old man really wanted?"
Pratt drew his chair still nearer to the desk. His voice dropped to a
whisper and his eyes were full of meaning.
"I'll tell you what he wanted!" he said speaking very slowly. "It's what
I've come for. Listen! Antony Bartle came to our office soon after five
yesterday afternoon. I was alone--everybody else had gone. I took him
into Eldrick's room. He told me that in turning over one of the books
which he had bought from Mallathorpe Mill, some short time ago, he had
found--what do you think?"
Mrs. Mallathorpe's cheek had flushed at the mention of the books from
the Mill. Now, at Pratt's question, and under his searching eye, she
turned very pale, and the clerk saw her fingers tighten on the arms of
her chair.
"What?" she asked. "What?"
"John Mallathorpe's will!" he answered. "Do you understand? His--will!"
The woman glanced quickly about her--at the doors, the uncurtained
window.
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