|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 49
"Oh, no!" he said gently. "That's a bigger mistake than the other, Miss
Mallathorpe! The police! Oh, not the police, I think, Miss Mallathorpe.
You see--other people than you might go to the police--about something
else."
Nesta's anger cooled down under that scarcely veiled threat. The sight
of Pratt, of his self-assurance, his comfortable offices, his general
atmosphere of almost sleek satisfaction, had roused her temper, already
strained to breaking point. But that smile, and the quiet look which
accompanied his last words, warned her that anger was mere foolishness,
and that she was in the presence of a man who would have to be dealt
with calmly if the dealings were to be successful. Yet--she repeated her
words, but this time in a different tone.
"I shall certainly go to the police authorities," she said, "unless I
get some proper explanation from you. I shall have no option. You are
forcing--or have forced--my mother to enter into some strange
arrangements with you, and I can't think it is for anything but what I
say--blackmail. You've got--or you think you've got--some hold on her.
Now what is it? I mean to know, one way or another!"
"Miss Mallathorpe," said Pratt. "You're taking a wrong course--with me.
Now who advised you to come here and speak to me like this, as if I were
a common criminal? Mr. Collingwood, no doubt? Or perhaps Mr. Robson? Now
if either----"
"Neither Mr. Robson nor Mr. Collingwood know anything whatever about my
coming here!" retorted Nesta. "No one knows! I am quite competent to
manage my own affairs--of this sort. I want to know why my mother has
been forced into that arrangement with you--for I am sure you have
forced her! If you will not tell me why--then I shall do what I said."
"You'll go to the police authorities?" asked Pratt. "Ah!--but let us
consider things a little, Miss Mallathorpe. Now, to start with, who says
there has been any forcing? I know one person who won't say so--and
that's your mother herself!"
Nesta felt unable to answer that assertion. And Pratt smiled
triumphantly and went on.
"She'll tell you--Mrs. Mallathorpe'll tell you--that she's very pleased
indeed to have my poor services," he said. "She knows that I shall serve
her well. She's glad to do a kind service to a poor relation. And since
I am your mother's relation, Miss Mallathorpe, I'm yours, too. I'm some
degree of cousin to you. You might think rather better, rather more
kindly, of me!"
"Are you going to tell me anything more than that?" asked Nesta
steadily. Pratt shrugged his shoulders and waved his hands.
"What more can I tell?" he asked. "The fact is, there's a business
arrangement between me and your mother--and you object to it. Well--I'm
sorry, but I've my own interests to consider."
"Are you going to tell me what it was that induced my mother to sign
that paper you got from her the other day?" asked Nesta.
"Can I say more than that it was--a business arrangement?" pleaded
Pratt. "There's nothing unusual in one party in a business arrangement
giving a power of attorney to another party. Nothing!"
"Very well!" said Nesta, rising from the straight-backed chair, and
looking very rigid herself as she stood up. "You won't tell me anything!
So--I am now going to the police. I don't know what they'll do. I don't
know what they can do. But--I can tell them what I think and feel about
this, at any rate. For as sure as I am that I see you, there's something
wrong! And I'll know what it is."
Pratt recognized that she had passed beyond the stage of mere anger to
one of calm determination. And as she marched towards the door he called
her back--as the result of a second's swift thought on his part.
"Miss Mallathorpe," he said. "Oblige me by sitting down again. I'm not
in the least afraid of your going to the police. But my experience is
that if one goes to them on errands of this sort, it sets all sorts of
things going--scandal, and suspicion, and I don't know what! You don't
want any scandal. Sit down, if you please, and let us think for a
moment. And I'll see if I can tell you--what you want to know."
Nesta already had a hand on the door. But after looking at him for a
second or two, she turned back, and sat down in her old position. And
Pratt, still seated at his desk, plunged his hands in his trousers
pockets, tilted back his chair, and for five minutes stared with knitted
brows at his blotting pad. A queer silence fell on the room. The windows
were double-sashed; no sound came up from the busy street below. But on
the mantelpiece a cheap Geneva clock ticked and ticked, and Nesta felt
at last that if it went on much longer, without the accompaniment of a
human voice, she should suddenly snatch it up, and hurl it--anywhere.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|