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Page 67
"You saw the actual collapse?" asked Collingwood.
"Aye--didn't I?" exclaimed Cobcroft. "Another man and myself were
looking out of the office window, right opposite. It fell in the
queerest way--like this," he went on, holding up his garden-rake.
"Supposing this shaft was the chimney--standing straight up. As we
looked we saw it suddenly bulge out, on all sides--it was a square
chimney, same size all the way up till you got to the cornice at the
top--bulge out, d'ye see, just about half-way up--simultaneous, like.
Then--down it came with a roar that they heard over half the town! O'
course, there were some two or three thousands of tons of stuff in that
chimney--and when the dust was cleared a bit there it was in one great
heap, right across the yard. And it was a good job," concluded Cobcroft,
reflectively, "that it fell straight--collapsed in itself, as you might
say--for if it had fallen slanting either way, it 'ud ha' smashed right
through some of the sheds, and there'd ha' been a terrible loss of
life."
"Mr. John Mallathorpe was killed on the spot, I believe?" suggested
Collingwood.
"Aye--and Gaukrodger, and Marshall, and the steeplejack that had just
come down, and another or two," said Cobcroft. "They'd no chance--they
were standing in a group at the very foot, talking. They were all killed
there and then--instantaneous. Some others were struck and injured--one
or two died. Yes, sir,--I'm not very like to forget that!"
"A terrible experience!" agreed Collingwood. "It would naturally fix
itself on your memory."
"Aye--my memory's very keen about it," said Cobcroft. "I remember every
detail of that morning. And," he continued, showing a desire to become
reminiscent, "there was something happened that morning, before the
accident, that I've oft thought over and has oft puzzled me. I've never
said aught to anybody about it, because we Yorkshiremen we're not given
to talking about affairs that don't concern us, and after all, it was
none o' mine! But you're a law gentleman, and I dare say you get things
told to you in confidence now and then, and, of course, this is between
you and me. I'll not deny that I have oft thought that I would like to
tell it to a lawyer of some sort, and find out how it struck him."
"Anything that you like to tell me, Mr. Cobcroft, I shall treat as a
matter of confidence--until you tell me it's no longer a secret,"
answered Collingwood.
"Why," continued Cobcroft, "it isn't what you rightly would call a
secret--though I don't think anybody knows aught about it but myself! It
was just this--and it may be there's naught in it but a mere fancy o'
mine. That morning, before the accident happened, I was in and out of
the private office a good deal--carrying in and out letters, and account
books, and so on. Mr. John Mallathorpe's private office, ye'll
understand, sir, opened out of our counting-house--as it does still--the
present manager, Mr. Horsfall, has it, just as it was. Well, now, on one
occasion, when I went in there, to take a ledger back to the safe, Mr.
Mallathorpe had his manager and cashier, Gaukrodger and Marshall in with
him. Mr. Mallathorpe, he always used a stand-up desk to write at--never
wrote sitting down, though he had a big desk in the middle of the room
that he used to sit at to look over accounts or talk to people. Now when
I went in, he and Gaukrodger and Marshall were all at this stand-up
desk--in the window-place--and they were signing some papers. At least
Gaukrodger had just signed a paper, and Marshall was taking the pen from
him. 'Sign there, Marshall,' says Mr. Mallathorpe. And then he went on,
'Now we'll sign this other--it's well to have these things in duplicate,
in case one gets lost.' And then--well, then, I went out, and--why, that
was all."
"You've some idea in your mind about that," said Collingwood, who had
watched Cobcroft closely as he talked. "What is it?"
Cobcroft smiled--and looked round as if to ascertain that they were
alone. "Why!" he answered in a low voice. "I'll tell you what I did
wonder--some time afterwards. I dare say you're aware--it was all in the
papers--that Mr. John Mallathorpe died intestate?"
"Yes," asserted Collingwood. "I know that."
"I've oft wondered," continued Cobcroft, "if that could ha' been his
will that they were signing! But then I reflected a bit on matters. And
there were two or three things that made me say naught at all--not a
word. First of all, I considered it a very unlikely thing that a rich
man like Mr. John Mallathorpe would make a will for himself. Second--I
remembered that very soon after I'd been in his private office Marshall
came out into the counting-house and gave the office lad a lot of
letters and documents to take to the post--some of 'em big
envelopes--and I thought that what I'd seen signed was some agreement or
other that was in one of them. And third--and most important--no will
was ever found in any of Mr. John Mallathorpe's drawers or safes or
anywhere, though they turned things upside down at the office, and, I
heard, at his house as well. Of course, you see, sir, supposing that to
have been a will--why, the only two men who could possibly have proved
it was were dead and gone! They were killed with him. And of course, the
young people, the nephew and niece, they came in for everything--so
there was an end of it. But--I've oft wondered what those papers were.
One thing is certain, anyway!" concluded Cobcroft, with a grim laugh,
"when those three signed 'em, they were picking up their pens for the
last time!"
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