The Talleyrand Maxim Read online

  CHAPTER XXV

  DRY SHERRY

  Pratt wasted no time in cursing Mrs. Murgatroyd. There would be plentyof opportunity for such relief to his feelings later on. Just then hehad other matters to occupy him--fully. He tore the indignant letter toshreds; he hastily thrust the bank-notes into one pocket and drew hiskeys from another. Within five minutes he had taken from his safe asealed packet, which he placed in an inside pocket of his coat, and hadleft his office--for the last time, as he knew very well. That part ofthe game was up--and it was necessary to be smart in entering on anotherphase of it.

  Since Eldrick's visit of the previous day, Pratt had been prepared forall eventuality. He had made ready for flight. And he was not goingempty-handed. He had a considerable amount of Mrs. Mallathorpe's moneyin his possession; by obtaining her signature to one or two documents hecould easily obtain much more in London, at an hour's notice. Thosedocuments were all ready, and in the sealed packet which he had justtaken from the safe; in it, too, were some other documents--JohnMallathorpe's will; the letter which Mrs. Mallathorpe had written to himon the evening previous to her son's fatal accident; and the power ofattorney which Pratt had obtained from her at his first interview afterthat occurrence. All was ready--and now there was nothing to do but toget to Normandale Grange, see Mrs. Mallathorpe, and--vanish. He hadplanned it all out, carefully, when he perceived the first dangersignals, and knew that his other plans and schemes were doomed tofailure. Half an hour at Normandale Grange--a journey to London--acouple of hours in the City--and then the next train to the Continent,on his way to regions much further off. Here, things had turned outbadly, unexpectedly badly--but he would carry away considerable, easilytransported wealth, to a new career in a new country.

  Pratt began his flight in methodical fashion. He locked up his office,and left the building by a back entrance which took him into a networkof courts and alleys at the rear of the business part of Barford. Hemade his way in and out of these places until he reached abicycle-dealer's shop in an obscure street, whereat he had left amachine of his own on the previous evening under the excuse of having itthoroughly cleaned and oiled. It was all ready for him on his arrival,and he presently mounted it and rode away through the outskirts of thetown, carefully choosing the less frequented streets and roads. He rodeon until he was clear of Barford: until, in fact, he was some miles fromit, and had reached a village which was certainly not on the way toNormandale. And then, at the post-office he dismounted, and goinginside, wrote out and dispatched a telegram. It was a brief messagecontaining but three words--"One as usual"--and it was addressed EstherMawson, The Grange, Normandale. This done, he remounted his bicycle,rode out of the village, and turned across country in quite a differentdirection. It was not yet ten o'clock--he had three hours to sparebefore the time came for keeping the appointment which he had just made.

  At an early stage of his operations, Pratt had found that even thecleverest of schemers cannot work unaided. It had been absolutelynecessary to have some tool close at hand to Normandale Grange and itsinhabitants; to have some person there upon whom he could depend fornews. He had found that person, that tool, in Esther Mawson, who, asMrs. Mallathorpe's maid, had opportunities which he at once recognizedas being likely to be of the greatest value to him. The circumstances ofHarper Mallathorpe's death had thrown Pratt and the maid together, andhe had quickly discovered that she was to be bought, and would doanything for money. He had soon come to an understanding with her; soonbargained with her, and made her a willing accomplice in certain of hisschemes, without letting her know their full meaning and extent: all,indeed, that she had learned from Pratt was that he had someconsiderable hold on her mistress.

  But it is dangerous work to play with edged tools, and if Pratt had onlyknown it, he was running great risks in using Esther Mawson as asemi-accomplice. Esther Mawson was in constant touch with her mistress,and Mrs. Mallathorpe, afraid of her daughter, and not greatly insympathy with her, badly needed a confidante. Little by little themistress began to confide in the maid, and before long Esther Mawsonknew the secret--and thenceforward she played a double game. Pratt foundher useful in arranging meetings with Mrs. Mallathorpe unknown to Nesta,and he believed her to be devoted to him. But the truth was that EstherMawson had only one object of devotion--herself--and she was waiting andwatching for an opportunity to benefit that object--at Pratt's expense.

  Pratt knew nothing of this as he slowly made his way to Normandale thatmorning. Having plenty of time he went by devious and lonely roads andby-lanes. Eventually he came to the boundary of Normandale Park at apoint far away from the Grange. There he dismounted, hid his bicycle ina coppice wherein he had often left it before, and went on towards thehouse through the woods and plantations. He knew every yard of theground he traversed, and was skilled in taking cover if he saw any signof woodman or gamekeeper. And in the end, just as one o'clock chimedfrom the clock over the stables, he came to a quiet spot in theshrubberies behind the Grange, and found Esther Mawson waiting for himin an old summer-house in which they had met on previous and similaroccasions.

  Esther Mawson immediately realized that something unusual was in theair. Clever as Pratt was at concealing his feelings, she was cleverer inseeing small signs, and she saw that this was no ordinary visit.

  "Anything wrong?" she asked at once.

  "Bit of bother--nothing much--it'll blow over," answered Pratt, who knewthat a certain amount of candour was necessary in dealing with thiswoman. "But--I shall have to be away for a bit--week or two, perhaps."

  "You want to see her?" inquired Esther.

  "Of course! I've some papers for her to sign," replied Pratt. "How dothings stand? Coast clear?"

  "Miss Mallathorpe's going into Barford after lunch," answered Esther."She'll be driving in about half-past two. I can manage it then. Howlong shall you want to be with her?"

  "Oh, a quarter of an hour'll do," said Pratt. "Ten minutes, if it comesto that."

  "And after that?" asked Esther.

  "Then I want to get a train at Scaleby," replied Pratt, mentioning arailway junction which lay ten miles across country in anotherdirection. "So make it as soon after two-thirty as you can."

  "You can see her as soon as Miss Mallathorpe's gone," said Esther."You'd better come into the house--I've got the key of the turret door,and all's clear--the servants are all at dinner."

  "I could do with something myself," observed Pratt, who, in his anxiety,had only made a light breakfast that morning. "Can it be managed?"

  "I'll manage it," she answered. "Come on--now."

  Behind the summer-house in which they had met a narrow path led throughthe shrubberies to an old part of the Grange which was never used, andwas, in fact, partly ruinous. Esther Mawson led the way along this untilshe and Pratt came to a turret in the grey walls, in the lower story ofwhich a massive oaken door, heavily clamped with iron, gave entrance toa winding stair, locked it from inside when she and Pratt had entered,and preceded her companion up the stair, and across one or two empty anddust-covered chambers to a small room in which a few pieces of ancientfurniture were slowly dropping to decay. Pratt had taken refuge in thisroom before, and he sat down in one of the old chairs and mopped hisforehead.

  "I want something to drink, above everything," he remarked. "What canyou get?"

  "Nothing but wine," answered Esther Mawson. "As much as you like ofthat, because I've a stock that's kept up in Mrs. Mallathorpe's room. Icouldn't get any ale without going to the butler. I can get wine andsandwiches without anybody knowing."

  "That'll do," said Pratt. "What sort of wine?"

  "Port, sherry, claret," she replied. "Whichever you like."

  "Sherry, then," answered Pratt. "Bring a bottle if you can get it--Iwant a good drink."

  The woman went away--through the disused part of the old house into themodern portion. She went straight to a certain store closet and tookfrom it a bottle of old dry sherry which had been brought there from abin in the cellars--it was part of a qu
antity of fine wine laid down byJohn Mallathorpe, years before, and its original owner would have beendisgusted to think that it should ever be used for the mere purpose ofquenching thirst. But Esther Mawson had another purpose in view, withrespect to that bottle. Carrying it to her own sitting-room, shecarefully cut off the thick mass of sealing-wax at its neck, drew thecork, and poured a little of the wine away. And that done, she unlockeda small box which stood on a corner of her dressing table, and took fromit a glass phial, half full of a colourless liquid. With steady handsand sure fingers, she dropped some of that liquid into the wine,carefully counting the drops. Then she restored the phial to itshiding-place and re-locked the box--after which, taking up a spoon whichlay on her table, she poured out a little of the sherry and smelled andtasted it. No smell--other than that which ought to be there; notaste--other than was proper. Pratt would suspect nothing even if hedrunk the whole bottle.

  Esther Mawson had anticipated Pratt's desires in the way of refreshment,and she now went to a cupboard and took from it a plate of sandwiches,carefully swathed in a napkin. Carrying these in one hand, and thebottle of sherry and a glass in the other, she stole quietly back to thedisused part of the house, and set her provender before its expectantconsumer. Pratt poured out a glassful of the sherry, and drank iteagerly.

  "Good stuff that!" he remarked, smacking his lips. "Some of old JohnMallathorpe's--no doubt."

  "It was here when we came, anyhow," replied Esther. "Well--I shall haveto go. You'll be all right until I come back."

  "What time do you think it'll be?" asked Pratt. "Make it as soon as thecoast's clear--I want to be off."

  "As soon as ever she's gone," agreed Esther. "I heard her order thecarriage for half-past two."

  "And no fear of anybody else being about?" asked Pratt. "That butlerman, for instance? Or servants?"

  "I'll see to it," replied Esther reassuringly. "I'll lock this door andtake the key until I come back--make yourself comfortable."

  She locked Pratt in the old room and went off, and the willing prisonerate his sandwiches and drank his sherry, and looked out of a mullionedwindow on the wide stretches of park and coppice and the breezymoorlands beyond. He indulged in some reflections--not wholly devoid ofsentiment. He had cherished dreams of becoming the virtual owner ofNormandale. Always confident in his own powers, he had believed thatwith time and patience he could have persuaded Nesta Mallathorpe tomarry him--why not? Now--all owing to that cursed and unfortunatecontretemps with Parrawhite, that seemed utterly impossible--all hecould do now was to save himself--and to take as much as he could get.More than once that morning, as he made his way across country, he hadremembered Parrawhite's advice to take cash and be done withit--perhaps, he reflected, it might have been better. Still--when hepresently began his final retreat, he would carry away with him a lot ofthe Mallathorpe money.

  But before long Pratt indulged in no more reflections--sentiment orpractical. He had eaten all his sandwiches; he had drunk three-quartersof the bottle of sherry. And suddenly he felt unusually drowsy, and helaid his head back in his big chair, and fell soundly asleep.