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Page 9
"Here is Pratt," said Eldrick, glancing into the outer office as the
clerk entered it. "Pratt, come in here--here is Mr. Bartle Collingwood,
He would like you to tell him the facts about Mr. Bartle's death."
Pratt walked in--armed and prepared. He was a clever hand at foreseeing
things, and he had known all along that he would have to answer
questions about the event of the previous night.
"There's very little to tell, sir," he said, with a polite
acknowledgment of Collingwood's greeting. "Mr. Bartle came up here just
as I was leaving--everybody else had left. He wanted to see Mr. Eldrick.
Why, he didn't say. He was coughing a good deal when he came in, and he
complained of the fog outside, and of the stairs. He said
something--just a mere mention--about his heart being bad. I lighted the
gas in here, and helped him into the chair. He just sat down, laid his
head back, and died."
"Without saying anything further?" asked Collingwood.
"Not a word more, Mr. Collingwood," answered Pratt. "He--well, it was
just as if he had dropped off to sleep. Of course, at first I thought
he'd fainted, but I soon saw what it was--it so happens that I've seen a
death just as sudden as that, once before--my landlady's husband died in
a very similar fashion, in my presence. There was nothing I could do,
Mr. Collingwood--except ring up Mr. Eldrick, and the doctor, and the
police."
"Mr. Pratt made himself very useful last night in making arrangements,"
remarked Eldrick, looking at Collingwood. "As it is, there is very
little to do. There will be no need for any inquest; Melrose has given
his certificate. So--there are only the funeral arrangements. We can
help you with that matter, of course. But first you'd no doubt like to
go to your grandfather's place and look through his papers? We have his
will here, you know--and I've already told you its effect."
"I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Pratt," said Collingwood, turning to the
clerk. He turned again to Eldrick. "All right," he went on. "I'll go
over to Quagg Alley. Bye-the-bye, Mr. Pratt--my grandfather didn't tell
you anything of the reason of his call here?"
"Not a word, sir," replied Pratt. "Merely said he wanted Mr. Eldrick."
"Had he any legal business in process?" asked Collingwood.
Eldrick and his clerk both shook their heads. No, Mr. Bartle had no
business of that sort that they knew of. Nothing--but there again Pratt
was prepared.
"It might have been about the lease of that property in Horsebridge
Land, sir," he said, glancing at his principal. "He did mention that,
you know, when he was in here a few weeks ago."
"Just so," agreed Eldrick. "Well, you'll let me know if we can be of
use," he went on, as Collingwood turned away. "Pratt can be at your
disposal, any time."
Collingwood thanked him and went off. He had travelled down from London
by the earliest morning train, and leaving his portmanteau at the hotel
of the Barford terminus, had gone straight to Eldrick & Pascoe's office;
accordingly this was his first visit to the shop in Quagg Alley. But he
knew the shop and its surroundings well enough, though he had not been
in Barford for some time; he also knew Antony Bartle's old housekeeper,
Mrs. Clough, a rough and ready Yorkshirewoman, who had looked after the
old man as long as he, Collingwood, could remember. She received him as
calmly as if he had merely stepped across the street to inquire after
his grandfather's health.
"I thowt ye'd be down here first thing, Mestur Collingwood," she said,
as he walked into the parlor at the back of the shop. "Of course,
there's naught to be done except to see after yer grandfather's burying.
I don't know if ye were surprised or no when t' lawyers tellygraphed to
yer last night? I weren't surprised to hear what had happened. I'd been
expecting summat o' that sort this last month or two."
"You mean--he was failing?" asked Collingwood.
"He were gettin' feebler and feebler every day," said the housekeeper.
"But nobody dare say so to him, and he wouldn't admit it his-self. He
were that theer high-spirited 'at he did things same as if he were a
young man. But I knew how it 'ud be in the end--and so it has been--I
knew he'd go off all of a sudden. And of course I had all in
readiness--when they brought him back last night there was naught to do
but lay him out. Me and Mrs. Thompson next door, did it, i' no time.
Wheer will you be for buryin' him, Mestur Collingwood?"
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