CHAPTER X
THE FOOT-BRIDGE
Collingwood's return to London was made on a Friday evening: next day hebegan the final preparations for his departure to India on the followingThursday. He was looking forward to his journey and his stay in Indiawith keen expectation. He would have the society of a particularlyclever and brilliant man; they were to break their journey in Italy andin Egypt; he would enjoy exceptional facilities for seeing the nativelife of India; he would gain valuable experience. It was a chance atwhich any young man would have jumped, and Collingwood had been greatlyenvied when it was known that Sir John Standridge had offered it to him.And yet he was conscious that if he could have done precisely what hedesired, he would have stayed longer at Barford, in order to see more ofNesta Mallathorpe. Already it seemed a long time to the coming spring,when he would be back--and free to go North again.
But Collingwood was fated to go North once more much sooner than he haddreamed of. As he sat at breakfast in his rooms on the Monday morningafter his departure from Barford, turning over his newspaper with noparticular aim or interest, his attention was suddenly and sharplyarrested by a headline. Even that headline might not have led him toread what lay beneath. But in the same instant in which he saw it healso saw a name--Mallathorpe. In the next he knew that heavy trouble hadfallen on Normandale Grange, the very day after he had left it.
This is what Collingwood read as he sat, coffee-cup in one hand,newspaper in the other--staring at the lines of unleaded type:
TRAGIC FATE OF YOUNG YORKSHIRE SQUIRE
"A fatal accident, of a particularly sad and disturbing nature, occurred near Barford, Yorkshire, on Saturday. About four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, Mr. Linford Pratt, managing clerk to Messrs. Eldrick & Pascoe, Solicitors, of Barford, who was crossing the grounds of Normandale Grange on his way to a business appointment, discovered the dead body of Mr. H. J. Mallathorpe, the owner of the Normandale Estate, lying in a roadway which at that point is spanned, forty feet above, by a narrow foot-bridge. The latter is an ancient construction of wood, and there is no doubt that it was in extremely bad repair, and had given way when the unfortunate young gentleman, who was out shooting in his park, stepped upon it. Mr. Mallathorpe, who was only twenty-four years of age, succeeded to the Normandale estates, one of the finest properties in the neighbourhood of Barford, about two years ago, under somewhat romantic--and also tragic--circumstances, their previous owner, his uncle, Mr. John Mallathorpe, a well-known Barford manufacturer, meeting a sudden death by the falling of his mill chimney--a catastrophe which also caused the deaths of several of his employees. Mr. John Mallathorpe died intestate, and the estate at Normandale passed to the young gentleman who met such a sad fate on Saturday afternoon. Mr. H.J. Mallathorpe was unmarried, and it is understood that Normandale (which includes the village of that name, the advowson of the living, and about four thousand acres of land) now becomes the property of his sister, Miss Nesta Mallathorpe."
Collingwood set down his cup, and dropped the newspaper. He was but halfway through his breakfast, but all his appetite had vanished. All thathe was conscious of was that here was trouble and grief for a girl inwhom--it was useless to deny it--he had already begun to take a warminterest. And suddenly he started from his chair and snatched up arailway guide. As he turned over its pages, he thought rapidly. Thepreparations for his journey to India were almost finished--what was notdone he could do in a few hours. He had no further appointment with SirJohn Standridge until nine o'clock on Thursday morning, when he was tomeet him at the train for Dover and Paris. Monday--Tuesday--Wednesday--hehad three days--ample time to hurry down to Normandale, to do what hecould to help there, and to get back in time to make his own lastarrangements. He glanced at his watch--he had forty minutes in which tocatch an express from King's Cross to Barford. Without further delay hepicked up a suit-case which was already packed and set out for thestation.
He was in Barford soon after two o'clock--in Eldrick's office byhalf-past two. Eldrick shook his head at sight of him.
"I can guess what's brought you down, Collingwood," he said. "Good ofyou, of course--I don't think they've many friends out there."
"I can scarcely call myself that--yet," answered Collingwood. "But--Ithought I might be of some use. I'll drive out there presently. Butfirst--how was it?"
Eldrick shook his head.
"Don't know much more than what the papers say," he answered. "There'san old foot-bridge there that spans a road in the park--road cut througha ravine. They say it was absolutely rotten, and the poor chap's weightwas evidently too much for it. And there was a drop of forty feet into ahard road. Extraordinary thing that nobody on the estate seems to haveknown of the dangerous condition of that bridge!--but they say it waslittle used--simply a link between one plantation and another.However;--it's done, now. Our clerk--Pratt, you know--found the body.Hadn't been dead five minutes, Pratt says."
"What was Pratt doing there?" asked Collingwood.
"Oh, business of his own," replied Eldrick. "Not ours. There was anadvertisement in Saturday's papers which set out that a steward waswanted for the Normandale estate, and Pratt mentioned it to me in themorning that he thought of applying for the job if we'd give him a goodtestimonial. I suppose he'd gone out there to see about thepreliminaries. Anyway, he was walking through the park when he foundyoung Mallathorpe's body. I understand he made himself very useful, too,and I've sent him out there again today, to do anything he can--smartchap, Pratt!"
"Possibly, then, there is nothing I can do," remarked Collingwood.
"I should say you'll do a lot by merely going there," answered Eldrick."As I said just now, they've few friends, and no relations, and I hearthat Mrs. Mallathorpe is absolutely knocked over. Go, by all means--abit of sympathy goes a long way on these occasions. I say!--what aregular transformation an affair of this sort produces. Do you know,that young fellow, just like his uncle, had not made any will! Fact!--Ihad it from Robson, their solicitor, this very morning. The whole of theestate comes to the sister, of course--she and the mother will share thepersonal property. By that lad's death, Nesta Mallathorpe becomes one ofthe wealthiest young women in Yorkshire!"
Collingwood made no reply to this communication. But as he drove off toNormandale Grange, it was fresh in his mind. And it was not verypleasant to him. One of the wealthiest young women in Yorkshire!--and hewas already realizing that he would like to make Nesta Mallathorpe hiswife: it was because he felt what he did for her that he had rushed downto do anything he could that would be of help. Supposing--onlysupposing--that people--anybody--said that he was fortune-hunting!Somewhat unduly sensitive, proud, almost to a fault, he felt his cheekredden at the thought, and for a moment he wished that old JohnMallathorpe's wealth had never passed to his niece. But then he sneeredat himself for his presumption.
"Ass!" he said. "She's never even thought of me--in that way, mostlikely! Anyway, I'm a stupid fool for thinking of these things atpresent."
But he knew, within a few minutes of entering the big, desolate-lookinghouse, that Nesta had been thinking of him. She came to him in the roomwhere they had first met, and quietly gave him her hand.
"I was not surprised when they told me you were here," she said. "I wasthinking about you--or, rather, expecting to hear from you."
"I came at once," answered Collingwood, who had kept her hand in his."I--well, I couldn't stop away. I thought, perhaps, I could dosomething--be of some use."
"It's a great deal of use to have just--come," she said. "Thank you!But--I suppose you'll have to go?"
"Not for two days, anyway," he replied. "What can I do?"
"I don't know that you can actually do anything," she answered."Everything is being done. Mr. Eldrick sent his clerk, Mr. Pratt--whofound Harper--he's been most kind and useful. He--and our ownsolicitor--are making all arrangements. There's got to be an inquest.No--I don't know that you can do actual things. But--whi
le you'rehere--you can look in when you like. My mother is very ill--she hasscarcely spoken since Saturday."
"I'll tell you what I will do," said Collingwood determinedly. "Inoticed in coming through the village just now that there's quite adecent inn there. I'll go down and arrange to stay there until Wednesdayevening--then I shall be close by--if you should need me."
He saw by her look of quick appreciation and relief that this suggestionpleased her. She pressed his hand and withdrew her own. "Thank youagain!" she said. "Do you know--I can't quite explain--I should be gladif you were close at hand? Everybody has been very kind--but I do feelthat there is nobody I can talk to. If you arrange this, will you comein again this evening?"
"I shall arrange it," answered Collingwood. "I'll see to it now. Tellyour people I am to be brought in whenever I call. And--I'll be close bywhenever you want me."
It seemed little to say, little to do, but he left her feeling that hewas being of some use. And as he went off to make his arrangements atthe inn he encountered Pratt, who was talking to the butler in the outerhall.
The clerk looked at Collingwood with an unconcern and a composure whichhe was able to assume because he had already heard of his presence inthe house. Inwardly, he was malignantly angry that the young barristerwas there, but his voice was suave, and polite enough when he spoke.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Collingwood," he said quietly. "Very sad occasionon which we meet again, sir. Come to offer your sympathy, Mr.Collingwood, of course--very kind of you."
"I came," answered Collingwood, who was not inclined to bandy phraseswith Pratt, "to see if I could be of any practical use."
"Just so, sir," said Pratt. "Mr. Eldrick sent me here for the samepurpose. There's really not much to do--beyond the necessaryarrangements, which are already pretty forward. Going back to town,sir?" he went on, following Collingwood out to his motor-car, whichstood waiting in the drive.
"No!" replied Collingwood. "I'm going to send this man to Barford tofetch my bag to the inn down there in the village, where I'm going tostay for a few days. Did you hear that?" he continued, turning to thedriver. "Go back to Barford--get my bag from the _Station Hotel_there--bring it to the _Normandale Arms_--I'll meet you there on yourreturn."
The car went off, and Collingwood, with a nod to Pratt, was about toturn down a side path towards the village. But Pratt stopped him.
"Would you care to see the place where the accident happened, Mr.Collingwood?" he said. "It's close by--won't take five minutes."
Collingwood hesitated a moment; then he turned back. It might be well,he reflected, if he made himself acquainted with all the circumstancesof this case, simple as they seemed.
"Thank you," he said. "If it's so near."
"This way, sir," responded Pratt. He led his companion along the frontof the house, through the shrubberies at the end of a wing, and into aplantation by a path thickly covered with pine needles. Presently theyemerged upon a similar track, at right angles to that by which they hadcome, and leading into a denser part of the woods. And at the end of ahundred yards of it they came to a barricade, evidently of recentconstruction, over which Pratt stretched a hand. "There!" he said."That's the bridge, sir." Collingwood looked over the barricade. He sawthat he and Pratt were standing at the edge of one thick plantation offir and pine; the edge of a similar plantation stretched before themsome ten yards away. But between the two lay a deep, dark ravine, which,immediately in front of the temporary barricade, was spanned by a narrowrustic bridge--a fragile-looking thing of planks, railed in by boughs oftrees. And in the middle was a jagged gap in both floor and side-rails,showing where the rotten wood had given way.
"I'll explain, Mr. Collingwood," said the clerk presently. "I knew thispark, sir--I knew it well, before the late Mr. John Mallathorpe boughtthe property. That path at the other end of the bridge makes a short cutdown to the station in the valley--through the woods and the lower partof the park. I came up that path, from the station, on Saturdayafternoon, intending to cross this bridge and go on to the house, whereI had private business. When I got to the other end of the bridge,there, I saw the gap in the middle. And then I looked down into thecut--there's a road--a paved road--down there, and I saw--him! And so Imade shift to scramble down--stiff job it was!--to get to him. But hewas dead, Mr. Collingwood--stone dead, sir!--though I'm certain hehadn't been dead five minutes. And----"
"Aye, an' he'd never ha' been dead at all, wouldn't young Squire, ifonly his ma had listened to what I telled her!" interrupted a voicebehind them. "He'd ha' been alive at this minute, he would, if his mahad done what I said owt to be done--now then!"
Collingwood turned sharply--to confront an old man, evidently one of thewoodmen on the estate who had come up behind them unheard on the thickcarpeting of pine needles. And Pratt turned, too--with a keen look and adirect question.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"
"I know what I'm talking about, young gentleman," said the man doggedly."I ain't worked, lad and man, on this one estate nine-and-fortyyears--and happen more--wi'out knowin' all about it. I tell'd Mrs.Mallathorpe on Friday noon 'at that there owd brig 'ud fall in aforelong if it worn't mended. I met her here, at this very place where we'restandin', and I showed her 'at it worn't safe to cross it. I tell'd her't she owt to have it fastened up theer an' then. It's been rottin' formany a year, has this owd brig--why, I mind when it wor last repaired,and that wor years afore owd Mestur Mallathorpe bowt this estate!"
"When do you say you told Mrs. Mallathorpe all that?" asked Pratt.
"Friday noon it were, sir," answered the woodman. "When I were on my wayhome--dinner time. 'Cause I met the missis here, and I made bold to tellher what I'd noticed. That there owd brig!--lor' bless yer, gentlemen!it were black rotten i' the middle, theer where poor young maister hefell through it. 'Ye mun hev' that seen to at once, missis,' I says.'Sartin sure, 'tain't often as it's used,' I says, 'but surely sartin'at if it ain't mended, or closed altogether,' I says, 'summun 'll begoing through and brekkin' their necks,' I says. An' reight, too,gentlemen--forty feet it is down to that road. An' a mortal hard road,an' all, paved wi' granite stone all t' way to t' stable-yard."
"You're sure it was Friday noon?" repeated Pratt.
"As sure as that I see you," answered the woodman. "An' Mrs. Mallathorpeshe said she'd hev it seen to. Dear-a-me!--it should ha' been closed!"
The old man shook his head and went off amongst the trees, and Pratt,giving his vanishing figure a queer look, turned silently back along thepath, followed by Collingwood. At the point where the other path led tothe house, he glanced over his shoulder at the young barrister.
"If you keep straight on, Mr. Collingwood," he said, "you'll getstraight down to the village and the inn. I must go this way."
He went off rapidly, and Collingwood walked on through the plantationtowards the _Normandale Arms_--wondering, all the way, why Pratt was soanxious to know exactly when it was that Mrs. Mallathorpe had beenwarned about the old bridge.