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Page 51
"Well?" said Nesta.
"Hoskins," Pratt went on, "urged upon Mrs. Mallathorpe the necessity of
having the bridge closed at once, or barricaded. He pointed out to her
from where they stood certain places in the bridge, and in the railing
on one side of it, which already sagged in such a fashion, that he, as a
man of experience, knew that planks and railings were literally rotten
with damp. Now what did Mrs. Mallathorpe do? She said nothing to
Hoskins, except that she'd have the thing seen to. But she immediately
went to the estate carpenter's shop, and there she procured two short
lengths of chain, and two padlocks, and she herself went back to the
foot-bridge and secured its wicket gates at both ends. I beg you will
bear that in mind, too, Miss Mallathorpe."
"I am bearing everything in mind," said Nesta resolutely. "Don't be
afraid that I shall forget one word that you say."
"I hear that sneer in your voice," answered Pratt, as he turned,
unlocked a drawer, and drew out some papers. "But I think you will soon
learn that the sneer at what I'm telling you is foolish. Mrs.
Mallathorpe had a set purpose in locking up those gates--as you will see
presently. You will see it from what I am now going to tell you. Oblige
me, if you please, by looking at that letter. Do you recognize your
mother's handwriting?"
"Yes!" admitted Nesta, with a sudden feeling of apprehension. "That is
her writing."
"Very good," said Pratt. "Then before I read it to you, I'll just tell
you what this letter is. It formed, when it was written, an invitation
from Mrs. Mallathorpe to me--an invitation to walk, innocently, into
what she knew--knew, mind you!--to be a death-trap! She meant _me_ to
fall through the bridge!"
CHAPTER XV
PRATT OFFERS A HAND
For a full moment of tense silence Nesta and Pratt looked at each other
across the letter which he held in his outstretched hand--looked
steadily and with a certain amount of stern inquiry. And it was Nesta's
eyes which first gave way--beaten by the certainty in Pratt's. She
looked aside; her cheeks flamed; she felt as if something were rising in
her throat--to choke her.
"I can't believe that!" she muttered. "You're--mistaken! Oh--utterly
mistaken!"
"No mistake!" said Pratt confidently. "I tell you your mother meant
me--me!--to meet my death at that bridge. Here's the proof in this
letter! I'll tell you, first, when I received it: then I'll read you
what's in it, and if you doubt my reading of it, you shall read it
yourself--but it won't go out of my hands! And first as to my getting
it, for that's important. It reached me, by registered post, mind you,
on the Saturday morning on which your brother met his death. It was
handed in at Normandale village post-office for registration late on the
Friday afternoon. And--by whom do you think?"
"I--don't know!" replied Nesta faintly. This merciless piling up of
details was beginning to frighten her--already she felt as if she
herself were some criminal, forced to listen from the dock to the
opening address of a prosecuting counsel. "How should I know?--how can I
think?"
"It was handed in for registration by your mother's maid, Esther
Mawson," said Pratt with a dark look. "I've got her evidence, anyway!
And that was all part of a plan--just as a certain something that was
enclosed was a part of the same plan--a plot. And now I'll read you the
letter--and you'll bear it in mind that I got it by first post that
Saturday morning. This is what it--what your mother--says:--
"I particularly wish to see you again, at once, about the matter
between us and to have another look at _that document_. Can you
come here, bringing it with you, tomorrow, Saturday afternoon,
by the train which leaves soon after two o'clock? As I am most
anxious that your visit should be private and unknown to any one
here, do not come to the house. Take the path across the park to
the shrubberies near the house, so that if you are met people
would think you were taking a near cut to the village. I will
meet you in the shrubbery on the house side of the little
foot-bridge. The gates--'"
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