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Page 52
Pratt suddenly paused, and before proceeding looked hard at his visitor.
"Now listen to what follows--and bear in mind what your mother knew, and
had done, at the time she wrote this letter. This is how the letter goes
on---let every word fix itself in your mind, Miss Mallathorpe!"
"'The gates of the foot-bridge are locked, but the enclosed keys
will open them. I will meet you amongst the trees on the further
side. Be sure to come and to bring _that document_--I have
something to say about it on seeing it again.'"
Pratt turned to the drawer from which he had taken the letter and took
out two small keys, evidently belonging to patent padlocks. He held them
up before Nesta.
"There they are!" he said triumphantly. "Been in my possession ever
since--and will remain there. Now--do you wish to read the letter? I've
read it to you word for word. You don't? Very good--back it goes in
there, with these keys. And now then," he continued, having replaced
letter and keys in his drawer, and turned to her again, "now then, you
see what a diabolical scheme it was that was in your mother's mind
against me. She meant me to meet with the fate which overtook her own
son! She meant me to fall through that bridge. Why? She hoped that I
should break my neck--as he did! She wanted to silence me--but she also
wanted more--she wanted to take from my dead body, or my unconscious
body, the certain something which she was so anxious I should bring with
me, which she referred to as _that document_. She was willing to risk
anything--even to murder!--to get hold of that. And now you know why I
went to Normandale Grange that Saturday--you know, now, the real reason.
I told a deliberate lie at the inquest, for your mother's sake--for your
sake, if you know it. I did not go there to hand in my application for
the stewardship--I went in response to the letter I've just read. Is all
this clear to you?"
Nesta could only move her head in silent acquiescence. She was already
convinced, that whether all this was entirely true or not, there was
truth of some degree in what Pratt had told her. And she was thinking of
her mother--and of the trap which she certainly appeared to have
laid--and of her brother's fate--and for the moment she felt sick and
beaten. But Pratt went on in that cold, calculating voice, telling his
story point by point.
"Now I come to what happened that Saturday afternoon," he said. "I may
as well tell you that in my own interest I have carefully collected
certain evidence which never came out at the inquest--which, indeed, has
nothing to do with the exact matter of the inquest. Now, that Saturday,
your mother and you had lunch together--your brother, as we shall see in
a moment, being away--at your lunch time--a quarter to two. About twenty
minutes past two your mother left the house. She went out into the
gardens. She left the gardens for the shrubberies. And at twenty-five
minutes to three, she was seen by one of your gardeners, Featherstone,
in what was, of course, hiding, amongst the trees at the end of the
north shrubbery. What was she doing there, Miss Mallathorpe? She was
waiting!--waiting until a certain hoped-for accident happened--to me.
Then she would come out of her hiding-place in the hope of getting that
document from my pocket! Do you see how cleverly she'd laid her
plans--murderous plans?"
Nesta was making a great effort to be calm. She knew now that she was
face to face with some awful mystery which could only be solved by
patience and strenuous endeavour. She knew, too, that she must show no
sign of fear before this man!
"Will you finish your story, if you please?" she asked.
"In my own way--in my own time," answered Pratt. "I now come to--your
mother. On the Friday noon, the late Mr. Harper Mallathorpe went to
Barford to visit a friend--young Stemthwaite, at the Hollies. He was to
stay the night there, and was not expected home until Saturday evening.
He did stay the night, and remained in Barford until noon on Saturday;
but he--unexpectedly--returned to the house at half past two. And almost
as soon as he'd got in, he picked up a gun and strolled out--into the
gardens and the north shrubbery. And, as you know, he went to the
foot-bridge. You see, Miss Mallathorpe, your mother, clever as she was,
had forgotten one detail--the gates of that footbridge were merely low,
four-barred things, and there was nothing to prevent an active young man
from climbing them. She forgot another thing, too--that warning had not
been given at the house that the bridge was dangerous. And, of course,
she'd never, never calculated that your brother would return sooner than
he was expected, or that, on his return, he'd go where he did. And
so--but I'll spare you any reference to what happened. Only--you know
now how it was that Mrs. Mallathorpe was found by her son's body. She'd
been waiting about--for me! But--the fate she'd meant for me was dealt
out to--him!"
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