The Talleyrand Maxim Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  THE PREVALENT ATMOSPHERE

  Until that afternoon Collingwood had never been in the village to whichhe was now bending his steps; on that and his previous visits to theGrange he had only passed the end of its one street. Now, descendinginto it from the slopes of the park, he found it to be little more thana hamlet--a church, a farmstead or two, a few cottages in their gardens,all clustering about a narrow stream spanned by a high-arched bridge ofstone. The _Normandale Arms_, a roomy, old-fashioned place, stood at oneend of the bridge, and from the windows of the room into whichCollingwood was presently shown he could look out on the stream itselfand on the meadows beyond it. A peaceful, pretty, quiet place--but thegloom which was heavy at the big house or the hill seemed to have spreadto everybody that he encountered.

  "Bad job, this, sir!" said the landlord, an elderly, serious-faced man,to whom Collingwood had made known his wants, and who had quickly formedthe opinion that his guest was of the legal profession. "And a queerone, too! Odd thing, sir, that our old squire, and now the young one,should both have met their deaths in what you might term violentfashion."

  "Accident--in both cases," remarked Collingwood.

  The landlord nodded his head--and then shook it in a manner which seemedto indicate that while he agreed with this proposition in one respect heentertained some sort of doubt about it in others.

  "Ay, well!" he answered. "Of course, a mill chimney falling, withoutnotice, as it were, and a bridge giving way--them's accidents, to besure. But it's a very strange thing about this foot-bridge, up yonder atthe Grange--very strange indeed! There's queer talk about it, already."

  "What sort of talk?" asked Collingwood. Ever since the old woodman hadcome up to him and Pratt, as they stood looking at the foot-bridge, hehad been aware of a curious sense of mystery, and the landlord's remarktended to deepen it. "What are people talking about?"

  "Nay--it's only one or two," replied the landlord. "There's been two menin here since the affair happened that crossed that bridge Fridayafternoon--and both of 'em big, heavy men. According to what one canlearn that there bridge wasn't used much by the Grange people--it led tonowhere in particular for them. But there is a right of way across thatpart of the park, and these two men as I'm speaking of--they made use ofit on Friday--getting towards dark. I know 'em well--they'd both of 'emweigh four times as much--together--as young Squire Mallathorpe, and yetit didn't give way under them. And then--only a few hours later, as youmight say, down it goes with him!"

  "I don't think you can form any opinion from that!" said Collingwood."These things, these old structures, often give way quite suddenly andunexpectedly."

  "Ay, well, they did admit, these men too, that it seemed a bit tottery,like," remarked the landlord. "Talking it over, between themselves, inhere, they agreed, to be sure, that it felt to give a bit. All the same,there's them as says that it's a queer thing it should ha' givenaltogether when young squire walked on it."

  Collingwood clinched matters with a straight question.

  "You don't mean to say that people are suggesting that the foot-bridgehad been tampered with?" he asked.

  "There is them about as wouldn't be slow to say as much," answered thelandlord. "Folks will talk! You see, sir--nobody saw what happened. Andwhen country folk doesn't see what takes place, with their own eyes,then they----"

  "Make mysteries out of it," interrupted Collingwood, a littleimpatiently. "I don't think there's any mystery here, landlord--Iunderstood that this foot-bridge was in a very unsafe condition. No! I'mafraid the whole affair was only too simple."

  But he was conscious, as he said this, that he was not precisely voicinghis own sentiments. He himself was mystified. He was still wondering whyPratt had been so pertinacious in asking the old woodman when,precisely, he had told Mrs. Mallathorpe about the unsafe condition ofthe bridge--still wondering about a certain expression which had comeinto Pratt's face when the old man told them what he did--stillwondering at the queer look which Pratt had given the information as hewent off into the plantation. Was there, then, something--some secretwhich was being kept back by--somebody?

  He was still pondering over these things when he went back to theGrange, later in the evening--but he was resolved not to say anythingabout them to Nesta. And he saw Nesta only for a few minutes. Hermother, she said, was very ill indeed--the doctor was with her then, andshe must go back to them. Since her son's death, Mrs. Mallathorpe hadscarcely spoken, and the doctor, knowing that her heart was not strong,was somewhat afraid of a collapse.

  "If there is anything that I can do,--or if you should want me, duringthe night," said Collingwood, earnestly, "promise me that you'll send atonce to the inn!"

  "Yes," answered Nesta. "I will. But--I don't think there will be anyneed. We have two nurses here, and the doctor will stop. There issomething I should be glad if you would do tomorrow," she went on,looking at him a little wistfully, "You know about--the inquest?"

  "Yes," said Collingwood.

  "They say we--that is I, because, of course, my mother couldn't--that Ineed not be present," she continued. "Mr. Robson--our solicitor--says itwill be a very short, formal affair. He will be there, ofcourse,--but--would you mind being there, too!--so that youcan--afterwards--tell me all about it?"

  "Will you tell me something--straight out?" answered Collingwood,looking intently at her. "Have you any doubt of any description aboutthe accepted story of your brother's death? Be plain with me!"

  Nesta hesitated for awhile before answering.

  "Not of the actual circumstances," she replied at last,--"none at all ofwhat you call the accepted story. The fact is, I'm not a good hand atexplaining anything, and perhaps I can't convey to you what I mean. ButI've a feeling--an impression--that there is--or was some mystery onSaturday which might have--and might not have--oh, I can't make itclear, even to myself.

  "If you would be at the inquest tomorrow, and listen carefully toeverything--and then tell me afterwards--do you understand?"

  "I understand," answered Collingwood. "Leave it to me."

  Whether he expected to hear anything unusual at the inquest, whether hethought any stray word, hint, or suggestion would come up during theproceedings, Collingwood was no more aware than Nesta was certain of hervague ideas. But he was very soon assured that there was going to benothing beyond brevity and formality. He had never previously beenpresent at an inquest--his legal mind was somewhat astonished at the wayin which things were done. It was quickly evident to him that the twelvegood men and true of the jury--most of them cottagers and labourersliving on the estate--were quite content to abide by the directions ofthe coroner, a Barford solicitor, whose one idea seemed to be to getthrough the proceedings as rapidly and smoothly as possible. AndCollingwood felt bound to admit that, taking the evidence as it wasbrought forward, no simpler or more straightforward cause ofinvestigation could be adduced. It was all very simple indeed--as itappeared there and then.

  The butler, a solemn-faced, respectable type of the old familyserving-man, spoke as to his identification of the dead master's body,and gave his evidence in a few sentences. Mr. Mallathorpe, he said, hadgone out of the front door of the Grange at half-past two on Saturdayafternoon, carrying a gun, and had turned into the road leading towardsthe South Shrubbery. At about three o'clock Mr. Pratt had come runningup the drive to the house, and told him and Miss Mallathorpe that he hadjust found Mr. Mallathorpe lying dead in the sunken cut between theSouth and North Shrubbery. Nobody had any question to ask the butler.Nor were any questions asked of Pratt--the one really important witness.

  Pratt gave his evidence tersely and admirably. On Saturday morning hehad seen an advertisement in the Barford newspapers which stated that asteward and agent was wanted for the Normandale Estate, and allapplications were to be made to Mrs. Mallathorpe. Desirous of applyingfor the post, he had written out a formal letter during Saturdaymorning, had obtained a testimonial from his present employers, Messrs.Eldrick & Pascoe, and, anxious to present
his application as soon aspossible, had decided to take it to Normandale Grange himself, thatafternoon. He had left Barford by the two o'clock train, which arrivedat Normandale at two-thirty-five. Knowing the district well, he hadtaken the path through the plantations. Arrived at the foot-bridge, hehad at once noticed that part of it had fallen in. Looking into thecutting, he had seen a man lying in the roadway beneath--motionless. Hehad scrambled down the side of the cutting, discovered that the man wasMr. Harper Mallathorpe, and that he was dead, and had immediatelyhurried up the road to the house, where he had informed the last witnessand Miss Mallathorpe.

  A quite plain story, evidently thought everybody--no questions needed.Nor were there any questions needed in the case of the only otherwitnesses--the estate carpenter who said that the foot-bridge was veryold, but that he had not been aware that it was in quite so bad acondition, and who gave it as his opinion that the recent heavy rainshad had something to do with the matter; and the doctor who testifiedthat the victim had suffered injuries which would produce absolutelyinstantaneous death. A clear case--nothing could be clearer, said thecoroner to his obedient jury, who presently returned the onlyverdict--one of accidental death--which, on the evidence, was possible.

  Collingwood heard no comments on the inquest from those who werepresent. But that evening, as he sat in his parlour at the _NormandaleArms_, the landlord, coming in on pretence of attending to the fire,approached him with an air of mystery and jerked his thumb in thedirection of the regions which he had just quitted.

  "You remember what we were talking of this afternoon when you come in,sir?" he whispered. "There's some of 'em--regular nightly customers,village folk, you understand--talking of the same thing now, and of thishere inquest. And if you'd like to hear a bit of what you may call localopinion--and especially one man's--I'll put you where you can hear it,without being seen. It's worth hearing, anyway."

  Collingwood, curious to know what the village wiseacres had to say,rose, and followed the landlord into a small room at the back of thebar-parlour.

  An open hatchment in the wall, covered by a thin curtain, allowed him tohear every word which came from what appeared to be a full company. Butit was quickly evident that in that company there was one man who eitherwas, or wished to be dictator and artifex--a man of loud voice anddomineering tone, who was laying down the law to the accompaniment ofvigorous thumpings of the table at which he sat. "What I say is--and Isay it agen---I reckon nowt at all o' crowners' quests!" he wasaffirming, as Collingwood and his guide drew near the curtained opening."What is a crowner's quest, anyway? It's nowt but formality--all formand show--it means nowt. All them 'at sits on t' jury does and says justwhat t' crowner tells 'em to say and do. They nivver ax no questions outo' their own mouths--they're as dumb as sheep--that's what yon jury worthis mornin'--now then!"

  "That's James Stringer, the blacksmith," whispered the landlord, comingclose to Collingwood's elbow. "He thinks he knows everything!"

  "And pray, what would you ha' done, Mestur Stringer, if you'd been onyon jury?" inquired a milder voice. "I suppose ye'd ha' wanted to know abit more, what?" "Mestur Stringer 'ud ha' wanted to know a deal more,"observed another voice. "He would do!"

  "There's a many things I want to know," continued the blacksmith, with astout thump of the table. "They all tak' it for granted 'at young squirewalked on to yon bridge, an' 'at it theer and then fell to pieces. Whosee'd it fall to pieces? Who was theer to see what did happen?"

  "What else did happen or could happen nor what were testified to?" askeda new voice. "Theer wor what they call circumstantial evidence to showhow all t' affair happened!"

  "Circumstantial evidence be blowed!" sneered the blacksmith heartily. "Ireckon nowt o' circumstantial evidence! Look ye here! How do youknow--how does anybody know 'at t' young squire worn't thrown off thatbridge, and 'at t' bridge collapsed when he wor thrown? He might ha' metsomebody on t' bridge, and quarrelled wi' 'em, and whoivver it wor mightha' been t' strongest man, and flung him into t' road beneath!"

  "Aye, but i' that case t' other feller--t' assailant--'ud ha' fallen wi'him," objected somebody.

  "Nowt o' t' sort!" retorted the blacksmith. "He'd be safe on t' soundpart o' t' bridge--it's only a piece on 't that gave way. I say thattheer idea wants in-quirin' into. An' theer's another thing--what worthat lawyer-clerk chap fro' Barford--Pratt--doin' about theer? Whatreight had he to be prowlin' round t' neighbourhood o' that bridge, andat that time? Come, now!--theer's a tickler for somebody."

  "He telled that," exclaimed several voices. "He had business i' t'place. He had some papers to 'liver."

  "Then why didn't he go t' nearest way to t' house t' 'liver 'em?"demanded Stringer. "T' shortest way to t' house fro' t' railway stationis straight up t' carriage drive--not through them plantations. I axagen--what wor that feller doin' theer? It's important."

  "Why, ye don't suspect him of owt, do yer, Mestur Stringer?" askedsomebody. "A respectable young feller like that theer--come!"

  "I'm sayin' nowt about suspectin' nobody!" vociferated the blacksmith."I'm doin' nowt but puttin' a case, as t' lawyers 'ud term it. I say 'attheer's a lot o' things 'at owt to ha' comed out. I'll tell ye one on'em--how is it 'at nowt--not a single word--wor said at yon inquestabout Mrs. Mallathorpe and t' affair? Not one word!"

  A sudden silence fell on the company, and the landlord tappedCollingwood's arm and took the liberty of winking at him.

  "Why," inquired somebody, at last, "what about Mrs. Mallathorpe and t'affair? What had she to do wi' t' affair?"

  The blacksmith's voice became judicial in its solemnity.

  "Ye listen to me!" he said with emphasis. "I know what I'm talkingabout. Ye know what came out at t' inquest. When this here Pratt ran totell t' news at t' house he returned to what they term t' fatal spot i'company wi' t' butler, and a couple of footmen, and Dan Scholes, one o't' grooms. Now theer worn't a word said at t' inquest about what thatlot--five on em, mind yer--found when they reached t' dead corpse--notone word! But I know--Dan Scholes tell'd me!"

  "What did they find, then, Mestur Stringer?" asked an eager member ofthe assemblage. "What wor it?"

  The blacksmith's voice sank to a mysterious whisper.

  "I'll tell yer!" he replied. "They found Mrs. Mallathorpe, lyin' i' adead faint--close by! And they say 'at she's nivver done nowt but go outo' one faint into another, ivver since. So, of course, she's nivver beenable to tell if she saw owt or knew owt! And what I say is," heconcluded, with a heavy thump of the table, "that theer crowner's questowt to ha' been what they term adjourned, until Mrs. Mallathorpe couldtell if she did see owt, or if she knew owt, or heer'd owt! She mun ha'been close by--or else they wo'dn't ha' found her lyin' theer aside o't' corpse. What did she see? What did she hear? Does she know owt? Itell ye 'at theer's questions 'at wants answerin'--and theer's troubleahead for somebody if they aren't answered--now then!"

  Collingwood went away from his retreat, beckoning the landlord tofollow. In the parlour he turned to him.

  "Have you heard anything of what Stringer said just now?" he asked. "Imean--about Mrs. Mallathorpe?"

  "Heard just the same--and from the same chap, Scholes, the groom, sir,"replied the landlord. "Oh, yes! Of course, people will wonder why theydidn't get some evidence from Mrs. Mallathorpe--just as Stringer says."

  Collingwood sat a long time that night, thinking over the things he hadheard. He came to the conclusion that the domineering blacksmith wasright in one of his dogmatic assertions--there was trouble ahead. Andnext morning, before going up to the Grange, he went to the nearesttelegraph office, and sent Sir John Standridge a lengthy message inwhich he resigned the appointment that would have taken him to India.