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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Stewardship of this estate for life," muttered Pratt gloomily. "With the risk of some discovery being made, some time, any time!" sneered Parrawhite. "Where are your brains, man? The old fellow, John Mallathorpe, probably made a draft or two of that will before he did his fair copy he may have left those drafts among his papers." "If he did, Mrs. Mallathorpe 'ud find 'em," said Pratt slowly.
And now, as I said, we'll bargain." "Where is he?" asked Mrs. Mallathorpe. "How how did you get them? Does he know did he give them up?" "If you want to know, he's safe and sound asleep in one of the rooms in the old part of the house," answered Esther. "I drugged him. There's something afoot something gone wrong with his schemes at Barford, and he came here on his way elsewhere.
"Take your time read it over two or three times," he said quietly. "Get it well into your mind, Mrs. Mallathorpe." She nodded her head at last, and Pratt stepped back, folded up the will, and turning to a heavy box which lay open on the table, placed it within, under lock and key. And that done, he turned back and took a chair, close to his visitor. "Safe there, Mrs.
"This is the last will of me, John Mallathorpe, of Normandale Grange, in the parish of Normandale, in the West Riding of the County of York. I appoint Martin William Charlesworth, manufacturer, of Holly Lodge, Barford, and Arthur James Wyatt, chartered accountant, of 65, Beck Street, Barford, executors and trustees of this my will.
"John Mallathorpe's will!" he answered. "Do you understand? His will!" The woman glanced quickly about her at the doors, the uncurtained window. "Safe enough here," whispered Pratt. "I made sure of that. Don't be afraid no one knows but me." But Mrs. Mallathorpe seemed to find some difficulty in speaking, and when she at last got out a word her voice sounded hoarse. "Impossible!"
"I'll sum up my own ideas on this matter, got from the various details that have been supplied to me since I came to Barford. Just consider my points one by one. Let's take them separately and see how they fit in. Mr. Bartle is seen by his shop-boy to take a certain paper from a book which came from the late John Mallathorpe's office at Mallathorpe Mill. He puts that paper in his pocket.
But one was that it is always necessary to keep a firm hand on women let them see and feel your power, said Pratt. He had been secretly delighted to acquaint Nesta Mallathorpe with his power, to drive it into her that he had the whip hand of her mother, and through her mother, of Nesta herself. He had seen that Nesta was much upset and alarmed by what he told her.
The solicitor hastily drew out the enclosure, glanced it over, and turned sharply to Collingwood with a muttered exclamation. "Good gracious!" he said. "That man Cobcroft was right! There was a duplicate! And here it is!" Mrs. Mallathorpe had come nearer. The sight of the half sheet of foolscap in Eldrick's hands seemed to fascinate her.
He argued 'So long as I hold that will, nobody and nothing can make me give it up nor divulge its contents. But I can bind one person who benefits by it Miss Mallathorpe, and for the mother's sake I can keep the daughter quiet! Well he hasn't kept the daughter quiet! She spoke! And last in all such schemes as Pratt's, the schemer invariably forgets something.
"I want to ask you a plain question and I expect a plain answer. Why are you blackmailing my mother?" Pratt shook his head as if he felt more sorrow than anger. He glanced deprecatingly at his visitor. "I think you'll be sorry on reflection that you said that, Miss Mallathorpe," he answered. "You're a little shall we say upset? A little shall we say angry?
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