J. S. Fletcher - The Collected Works of J. S. Fletcher - 17 Novels & 28 Short Stories (Illustrated Edition)

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This carefully edited collection has been designed and formatted to the highest digital standards and adjusted for readability on all devices.
Novels
Perris of the Cherry Trees
The Middle Temple Murder
Dead Men's Money
The Talleyrand Maxim
The Paradise Mystery
The Borough Treasurer
The Chestermarke Instinct
The Herapath Property
The Orange-Yellow Diamond
The Root of All Evil
In The Mayor's Parlour
The Middle of Things
Ravensdene Court
The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation
Scarhaven Keep
In the Days of Drake
Where Highways Cross
Short Stories
Paul Campenhaye – Specialist in Criminology
The French Maid
The Yorkshire Manufacturer
The Covent Garden Fruit Shop
The Irish Mail
The Tobacco-Box
Mrs. Duquesne
The House on Hardress Head
The Champagne Bottle
The Settling Day
The Magician of Cannon Street
Mr. Poskitt's Nightcaps (Stories of a Yorkshire Farmer)
The Guardian of High Elms Farm
A Stranger in Arcady
The Man Who Was Nobody
Little Miss Partridge
The Marriage of Mr. Jarvis
Bread Cast upon the Waters
William Henry and the Dairymaid
The Spoils to the Victor
An Arcadian Courtship
The Way of the Comet
Brothers in Affliction
A Man or a Mouse
A Deal in Odd Volumes
The Chief Magistrate
Other Stories
The Ivory God
The Other Sense
The New Sun
The Lighthouse on Shivering Sand
Historical Works
Mistress Spitfire
Baden-Powell of Mafeking
Joseph Smith Fletcher (1863-1933) was an English author, one of the leading writers of detective fiction in the Golden Age.

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"I should like to talk to you and Mr. Collingwood," she said quietly.

Collingwood came across to Eldrick's office at once. And to these two Nesta unbosomed herself of every detail that she could remember of her interview with Pratt—and as she went on, from one thing to another, she saw the men's faces grow graver and graver, and realized that this was a more anxious matter than she had thought.

"That's all," she said in the end. "I don't think I've forgotten anything. And even now, I don't know if I've done right to tell you all this. But—I don't think I could have faced it—alone!"

"My dear Miss Mallathorpe!" said Eldrick earnestly. "You've done the wisest thing you probably ever did in your life! Now," he went on, looking at Collingwood, "just let us all three realize what is to me a more important fact. Nobody would be more astonished than Pratt to know that you have taken the wise step you have. You agree, Collingwood?"

"Yes!" answered Collingwood, after a moment's reflection. "I think so."

"Miss Mallathorpe doesn't quite see what we mean," said Eldrick, turning to Nesta. "We mean that Pratt firmly believed, when he told you what he did, that for your mother's sake and your own, you would keep his communication a dead secret. He firmly believed that you would never dare to tell anybody what he told you. Most people—in your position—wouldn't have told. They'd have let the secret eat their lives out. You're a wise and a sensible young woman! And the thing is—we must let Pratt remain under the impression that you are keeping your knowledge to yourself. Let him continue to believe that you'll remain silent under fear. And let us meet his secret policy with a secret strategy of our own!"

Again he glanced at Collingwood, and again Collingwood nodded assent.

"Now," continued Eldrick, "just let us consider matters for a few minutes from the position which has newly arisen. To begin with. Pratt's account of your mother's dealings about the foot-bridge is a very clever and plausible one. I can see quite well that it has caused you great pain; so before I go any further, just let me say this to you—don't you attach one word of importance to it!"

Nesta uttered a heartfelt cry of relief.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "If you knew how thankful I should be to know that it's all lies—that he was lying! Can I really think that—after what I saw?"

"I won't ask you to think that he's telling lies—just now," answered Eldrick, with a glance at Collingwood, "but I'll ask you to believe that your mother could put a totally different aspect and complexion on all her actions and words in connection with the entire affair. My impression, of course," he went on, with something very like a wink at Collingwood, "is that Mrs. Mallathorpe, when she wrote that letter to Pratt, intended to have the bridge mended first thing next morning, and that something prevented that being done, and that when she was seen about the shrubberies in the afternoon, she was on her way to meet Pratt before he could reach the dangerous point, so that she could warn him. What do you say, Collingwood?"

"I should say," answered Collingwood, regarding the solicitor earnestly, and speaking with great gravity of manner, "that that would make an admirable line of defence to any charge which Pratt was wicked enough to prefer."

"You don't think my mother meant—meant to——" exclaimed Nesta, eagerly turning from one man to the other. "You—don't?"

"There is no evidence worth twopence against your mother!" replied Eldrick soothingly. "Put everything that Pratt has said against her clear out of your mind. Put all recent events out of your mind! Don't interfere with Pratt—just now. The thing to be done about Pratt is this—and it's the only thing. We must find out—exactly, as secretly as possible—what this secret is of which he speaks. What is this hold on Mrs. Mallathorpe? What is this document to which he refers? In other words, we must work back to some point which at present we can't see. At least, I can't see it. But—we may discover it. What do you say, Collingwood?"

"I agree entirely," answered Collingwood. "Let Pratt rest in his fancied security. The thing is, certainly, to go back. But—to what point?"

"That we must consider later," said Eldrick. "Now—for the present, Miss Mallathorpe,—you are, I suppose, going back home?"

"Yes, at once," answered Nesta. "I have my car at the Crown Hotel ."

"I should just like to know something," continued Eldrick again, looking at Collingwood as if for approval. "That is—Mrs. Mallathorpe's present disposition towards affairs in general and Pratt in particular. Miss Mallathorpe!—just do something which I will now suggest to you. When you reach home, see your mother—she is still, I understand, an invalid, though evidently able to transact business. Just approach her gently and kindly, and tell her that you are a little—should we say uncomfortable?—about certain business arrangements which you hear she has made with Mr. Pratt, and ask her, if she won't talk them over with you, and give you her full confidence. It's now half-past twelve," continued Eldrick, looking at his watch. "You'll be home before lunch. See your mother early in the afternoon, and then telephone, briefly, the result to me, here, at four o'clock. Then—Mr. Collingwood and I will have a consultation."

He motioned Collingwood to remain where he was, and himself saw Nesta down to the street. When he came back to his room he shook his head at the young barrister.

"Collingwood!" he said. "There's some dreadful business afloat in all this! And it's all the worse because of the fashion in which Pratt talked to that girl. She's evidently a very good memory—she narrated that conversation clearly and fully. Pratt must be very sure of his hand if he showed her his cards in that way—his very confidence in himself shows what a subtle network he's either made or is making. I question if he'd very much care if he knew that we know. But he mustn't know that—yet. We must reply to his mine with a counter-mine!"

"What do you think of Pratt's charge against Mrs. Mallathorpe?" asked Collingwood.

Eldrick made a wry face.

"Looks bad!—very, very bad, Collingwood!" he answered. "Art and scheme of a desperate woman, of course. But—we mustn't let her daughter think we believe it. Let her stick to the suggestion I made—which, as you remarked, would certainly make a very good line of defence, supposing Pratt even did accuse her. But now—what on earth is this document that's been mentioned—this paper of which Pratt has possession? Has Mrs. Mallathorpe at some time committed forgery—or bigamy—or—what is it? One thing's sure, however—we've got to work quietly. We mustn't let Pratt know that we're working. I hope he doesn't know that Miss Mallathorpe came here. Will you come back about four and hear what message she sends me? After that, we could consult."

Collingwood went away to his chambers. He was much occupied just then, and had little time to think of anything but the work in hand. But as he ate his lunch at the club which he had joined on settling in Barford, he tried to get at some notion of the state of things, and once more his mind reverted to the time of his grandfather's death, and his own suspicions about Pratt at that period. Clearly that was a point to which they must hark back—he himself must make more inquiries about the circumstances of Antony Bartle's last hours. For this affair would not have to rest where it was—it was intolerable that Nesta Mallathorpe should in any way be under Pratt's power. He went back to Eldrick at four o'clock with a suggestion or two in his mind. And at the sight of him Eldrick shook his head.

"I've had that telephone message from Normandale," he said, "five minutes ago. Pretty much what I expected—at this juncture, anyway. Mrs. Mallathorpe absolutely declines to talk business with even her daughter at present—and earnestly desires that Mr. Linford Pratt may be left alone."

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