CHAPTER IV
THE FORTUNATE POSSESSORS
Collingwood at once realized that he was in the presence of one of thetwo fortunate young people who had succeeded so suddenly--and, accordingto popular opinion, so unexpectedly--to John Mallathorpe's wealth. Thiswas evidently Miss Nesta Mallathorpe, of whom he had heard, but whom hehad never seen. She, however, was looking at him as if she knew him, andshe smiled a little as she acknowledged his bow.
"My mother is out in the grounds, with my brother," she said, motioningCollingwood towards a chair. "Won't you sit down, please?--I've sent forher; she will be here in a few minutes."
Collingwood sat down; Nesta Mallathorpe sat down, too, and as theylooked at each other she smiled again.
"I have seen you before, Mr. Collingwood," she said. "I knew it must beyou when they brought up your card."
Collingwood used his glance of polite inquiry to make a closerinspection of his hostess. He decided that Nesta Mallathorpe was not somuch pretty as eminently attractive--a tall, well-developed,warm-coloured young woman, whose clear grey eyes and red lips andgeneral bearing indicated the possession of good health and spirits. Andhe was quite certain that if he had ever seen her before he would nothave forgotten it.
"Where have you seen me?" he asked, smiling back at her.
"Have you forgotten the mock-trial--year before last?" she asked.
Collingwood remembered what she was alluding to. He had taken part, incompany with various other law students, in a mock-trial, a breach ofpromise case, for the benefit of a certain London hospital, to him hadfallen one of the principal parts, that of counsel for the plaintiff."When I saw your name, I remembered it at once," she went on. "I wasthere--I was a probationer at St. Chad's Hospital at that time."
"Dear me!" said Collingwood, "I should have thought our histrionicefforts would have been forgotten. I'm afraid I don't remember muchabout them, except that we had a lot of fun out of the affair. So youwere at St. Chad's?" he continued, with a reminiscence of thesurroundings of the institution they were talking of. "Very different toNormandale!"
"Yes," she replied. "Very--very different to Normandale. But when I wasat St. Chad's, I didn't know that I--that we should ever come toNormandale."
"And now that you are here?" he asked.
The girl looked out through the big window on the valley which lay infront of the old house, and she shook her head a little.
"It's very beautiful," she answered, "but I sometimes wish I was back atSt. Chad's--with something to do. Here--there's nothing to do but to donothing." Collingwood realized that this was not the complaint of thewell-to-do young woman who finds time hang heavy--it was ratherindicative of a desire for action.
"I understand!" he said. "I think I should feel like that. One wants--Isuppose--is it action, movement, what is it?"
"Better call it occupation--that's a plain term," she answered. "We'reboth suffering from lack of occupation here, my brother and I. And it'sbad for us--especially for him."
Before Collingwood could think of any suitable reply to this remarkablyfresh and candid statement, the door opened, and Mrs. Mallathorpe camein, followed by her son. And the visitor suddenly and immediatelynoticed the force and meaning of Nesta Mallathorpe's last remark. HarperMallathorpe, a good-looking, but not remarkably intelligent appearingyoung man, of about Collingwood's own age, gave him the instantimpression of being bored to death; the lack-lustre eye, the aimlesslounge, the hands thrust into the pockets of his Norfolk jacket as ifthey took refuge there from sheer idleness--all these things told theirtale. Here, thought Collingwood, was a fine example of how riches can bea curse--relieved of the necessity of having to earn his daily bread bylabour, Harper Mallathorpe was finding life itself laborious.
But there was nothing of aimlessness, idleness, or lack of vigour inMrs. Mallathorpe. She was a woman of character, energy, ofbrains--Collingwood saw all that at one glance. A little, neat-figured,compact sort of woman, still very good-looking, still on the right sideof fifty, with quick movements and sharp glances out of a pair of shrewdeyes: this, he thought, was one of those women who will readilyundertake the control and management of big affairs. He felt, as Mrs.Mallathorpe turned inquiring looks on him, that as long as she was incharge of them the Mallathorpe family fortunes would be safe.
"Mother," said Nesta, handing Collingwood's card to Mrs. Mallathorpe,"this gentleman is Mr. Bartle Collingwood. He's--aren't you?--yes, abarrister. He wants to see you. Why, I don't know. I have seen Mr.Collingwood before--but he didn't remember me. Now he'll tell you whathe wants to see you about."
"If you'll allow me to explain why I called on you, Mrs. Mallathorpe,"said Collingwood, "I don't suppose you ever heard of me--but you know,at any rate, the name of my grandfather, Mr. Antony Bartle, thebookseller, of Barford? My grandfather is dead--he died very suddenlylast night."
Mrs. Mallathorpe and Nesta murmured words of polite sympathy. Harpersuddenly spoke--as if mere words were some relief to his obviousboredom.
"I heard that, this morning," he said, turning to his mother. "Hopkinstold me--he was in town last night. I meant to tell you."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Mallathorpe, glancing at some letters whichstood on a rack above the mantelpiece. "Why--I had a letter from Mr.Bartle this very morning!"
"It is that letter that I have come to see you about," said Collingwood."I only got down here from London at half-past eight this morning, andof course, I have made some inquiries about the circumstances of mygrandfather's sudden death. He died very suddenly indeed at Mr.Eldrick's office. He had gone there on some business about which nobodyknows nothing--he died before he could mention it. And according to hisshop-boy, Jabey Naylor, the last thing he did was to write a letter toyou. Now--I have reason for asking--would you mind telling me, Mrs.Mallathorpe, what that letter was about?" Mrs. Mallathorpe moved over tothe hearth, and took an envelope from the rack. She handed it toCollingwood, indicating that he could open it. And Collingwood drew outone of old Bartle's memorandum forms, and saw a couple of lines in thefamiliar crabbed handwriting:
"MRS. MALLATHORPE, Normandale Grange.
"Madam,--If you should drive into town tomorrow, will you kindly give me a call? I want to see you particularly.
"Respectfully, A. BARTLE."
Collingwood handed back the letter.
"Have you any idea to what that refers?" he asked.
"Well, I think I have--perhaps," answered Mrs. Mallathorpe. "Mr. Bartlepersuaded us to sell him some books--local books--which my latebrother-in-law had at his office in the mill. And since then he has beenvery anxious to buy more local books and pamphlets about thisneighbourhood, and he had some which Mr. Bartle was very anxious indeedto get hold of. I suppose he wanted to see me about that." Collingwoodmade no remarks for the moment. He was wondering whether or not to tellwhat Jabey Naylor had told him about this paper taken from the linenpocket inside the _History of Barford_. But Mrs. Mallathorpe's readyexplanation had given him a new idea, and he rose from his chair.
"Thank you," he said. "I suppose that's it. You may think it odd that Iwanted to know what he'd written about, but as it was certainly the lastletter he wrote----"
"Oh, I'm quite sure it must have been that!" exclaimed Mrs. Mallathorpe."And as I am going into Barford this afternoon, in any case, I meant tocall at Mr. Bartle's. I'm sorry to hear of his death, poor oldgentleman! But he was very old indeed, wasn't he?"
"He was well over eighty," replied Collingwood. "Well, thank youagain--and good-bye--I have a motorcar waiting outside there, and I havemuch to do in Barford when I get back."
The two young people accompanied Collingwood into the hall. And Harpersuddenly brightened.
"I say!" he said. "Have a drink before you go. It's a long way in andout. Come into the dining-room."
But Collingwood caught Nesta's eye, and he was quick to read a signal init.
"No, thanks awfully!" he answered. "I won't really--I must getback--I've such a lot of things to
attend to. This is a very beautifulplace of yours," he went on, as Harper, whose face had fallen at thevisitor's refusal, followed with his sister to where the motor-carwaited. "It might be a hundred miles from anywhere."
"It's a thousand miles from anywhere!" muttered Harper. "Nothing to dohere!"
"No hunting, shooting, fishing?" asked Collingwood. "Get tired of 'em?Well, why not make a private golf-links in your park? You'd get a finesporting course round there."
"That's a good notion, Harper," observed Nesta, with some eagerness."You could have it laid out this winter."
Harper suddenly looked at Collingwood.
"Going to stop in Barford?" he asked.
"Till I settle my grandfather's affairs--yes," answered Collingwood.
"Come and see us again," said Harper. "Come for the night--we've got ajolly good billiard table."
"Do!" added Nesta heartily.
"Since you're so kind, I will, then," replied Collingwood. "But not fora few days."
He drove off--to wonder why he had visited Normandale Grange at all. ForMrs. Mallathorpe's explanation of the letter was doubtless the rightone: Collingwood, little as he had seen of Antony Bartle, knew what averitable sleuth-hound the old man was where rare books or engravingswere concerned. Yet--why the sudden exclamation on finding that paper?Why the immediate writing of the letter to Mrs. Mallathorpe? Why thesetting off to Eldrick & Pascoe's office as soon as the letter waswritten? It all looked as if the old man had found some document, thecontents of which related to the Mallathorpe family, and was anxious tocommunicate its nature to Mrs. Mallathorpe, and to his own solicitor, assoon as possible.
"But that's probably only my fancy," he mused, as he sped back toBarford; "the real explanation is doubtless that suggested by Mrs.Mallathorpe. Something made the old man think of the collection of localbooks at Normandale Grange--and he immediately wrote off to ask her tosee him, with the idea of persuading her to let him have them. That'sall there is in it--what a suspicious sort of party I must be getting!And suspicious of whom--and of what? Anyhow, I'm glad I went outthere--and I'll certainly go again."
On his way back to Barford he thought a good deal of the two youngpeople he had just left. There was something of the irony of fate abouttheir situation. There they were, in possession of money and luxury andyouth--and already bored because they had nothing to do. He felt whatclosely approached a contemptuous pity for Harper--why didn't he turn tosome occupation? There was their own business--why didn't he put in somany hours a day there, instead of leaving it to managers? Why didn't heinterest himself in local affairs?--work at something? Already he hadall the appearance of a man who is inclined to slackness--and in thatcase, mused Collingwood, his money would do him positive harm. But hehad no thoughts of that sort about Nesta Mallathorpe: he had seen thatshe was of a different temperament.
"She'll not stick there--idling," he said. "She'll break out and dosomething or other. What did she say? 'Suffering from lack ofoccupation'? A bad thing to suffer from, too--glad I'm not similarlyafflicted!"
There was immediate occupation for Collingwood himself when he reachedthe town. He had already made up his mind as to his future plans. Hewould sell his grandfather's business as soon as he could find abuyer--the old man had left a provision in his will, the gist of whichEldrick had already communicated to Collingwood, to the effect that hisgrandson could either carry on the business with the help of a competentmanager until the stock was sold out, or could dispose of it as a goingconcern--Collingwood decided to sell it outright, and at once. But firstit was necessary for him to look round the collection of valuable booksand prints, and get an idea of what it was that he was about to sell.And when he had reached Barford again, and had lunched at his hotel, hewent to Quagg Alley, and shut himself in the shop, and made a carefulinspection of the treasures which old Bartle had raked up from manyquarters.
Within ten minutes of beginning his task Collingwood knew that he hadgone out to Normandale Grange about a mere nothing. Picking up the_History of Barford_ which Jabey Naylor had spoken of, and turning overits leaves, two papers dropped out; one a half sheet of foolscap,folded; the other, a letter from some correspondent in the UnitedStates. Collingwood read the letter first--it was evidently that whichNaylor had referred to as having been delivered the previous afternoon.It asked for a good, clear copy of Hopkinson's _History of Barford_--andthen it went on, "If you should come across a copy of what is, Ibelieve, a very rare tract or pamphlet, _Customs of the Court Leet ofthe Manor of Barford_, published, I think, about 1720, I should be gladto pay you any price you like to ask for it--in reason." So much for theletter--Collingwood turned from it to the folded paper. It was headed"List of Barford Tracts and Pamphlets in my box marked B.P. in thelibrary at N Grange," and it was initialled at the foot J.M. Thenfollowed the titles of some twenty-five or thirty works--amongst themwas the very tract for which the American correspondent had inquired.And now Collingwood had what he believed to be a clear vision of whathad puzzled him--his grandfather having just read the American buyer'srequest had found the list of these pamphlets inside the _History ofBarford_, and in it the entry of the particular one he wanted, and atonce he had written to Mrs. Mallathorpe in the hope of persuading her tosell what his American correspondent desired to buy. It was all quiteplain--and the old man's visit to Eldrick & Pascoe's had nothing to dowith the letter to Mrs. Mallathorpe. Nor had he carried the folded paperin his pocket to Eldrick's--when Jabey Naylor went out to post theletter, Antony had placed the folded paper and the American lettertogether in the book and left them there. Quite, quite simple!--he hadhad his run to Normandale Grange and back all about nothing, and fornothing--except that he had met Nesta Mallathorpe, whom he was alreadysufficiently interested in to desire to see again. But having arrived atan explanation of what had puzzled him and made him suspicious, hedismissed that matter from his mind and thought no more of it.
But across the street, all unknown to Collingwood, Linford Pratt wasthinking a good deal. Collingwood had taken his car from a rankimmediately opposite Eldrick & Pascoe's windows; Pratt, whose desklooked on to the street, had seen him drive away soon after ten o'clockand return about half-past twelve. Pratt, who knew everybody in thebusiness centre of the town, knew the man who had driven Collingwood,and when he went out to his lunch he asked him where he had been thatmorning. The man, who knew no reason for secrecy, told him--and Prattwent off to eat his bread and cheese and drink his one glass of ale andto wonder why young Collingwood had been to Normandale Grange. He becameslightly anxious and uneasy. He knew that Collingwood must have madesome slight examination of old Bartle's papers. Was it--could it bepossible that the old man, before going to Eldrick's, had left somememorandum of his discovery in his desk--or in a diary? He had said thathe had not shown the will, nor mentioned the will, to a soul--but hemight;--old men were so fussy about things--he might have set down inhis diary that he had found it on such a day, and under such-and-suchcircumstances.
However, there was one person who could definitely inform him of thereason of Collingwood's visit to Normandale Grange--Mrs. Mallathorpe. Hewould see her at once, and learn if he had any grounds for fear. And soit came about that at nine o'clock that evening, Mrs. Mallathorpe, forthe second time that day, found herself asked to see a limb of the law.