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knew, too, that Collingwoodā€™s

parents were both dead, and that the old bookseller had left their son

everything he possessedā€”a very nice little fortune, as Eldrick had

observed last night. And since last night he had known that Collingwood

had just been called to the Bar, and was on the threshold of what

Eldrick, who evidently knew all about it, believed to be a promising

career. Well, there he was in the flesh; and Pratt, who was a born

observer of men and events, took a good look at him as he stood just

within the private room, talking to Eldrick.

 

A good-looking fellow; what most folk would call handsome; dark,

clean-shaven, tall, with a certain air of reserve about his well-cut

features, firm lips, and steady eyes that suggested strength and

determination. He would look very well in wig and gown, decided Pratt,

viewing matters from a professional standpoint; he was just the sort

that clients would feel a natural confidence in, and that juries would

listen to. Another of the lucky ones, too; for Pratt knew the contents

of Antony Bartleā€™s will, and that the young man at whom he was looking

had succeeded to a cool five-and-twenty thousand pounds, at least,

through his grandfatherā€™s death.

 

ā€œHere is Pratt,ā€ said Eldrick, glancing into the outer office as the

clerk entered it. ā€œPratt, come in hereā€”here is Mr. Bartle Collingwood,

He would like you to tell him the facts about Mr. Bartleā€™s death.ā€

 

Pratt walked inā€”armed and prepared. He was a clever hand at foreseeing

things, and he had known all along that he would have to answer

questions about the event of the previous night.

 

ā€œThereā€™s very little to tell, sir,ā€ he said, with a polite

acknowledgment of Collingwoodā€™s greeting. ā€œMr. Bartle came up here just

as I was leavingā€”everybody else had left. He wanted to see Mr. Eldrick.

Why, he didnā€™t say. He was coughing a good deal when he came in, and he

complained of the fog outside, and of the stairs. He said

somethingā€”just a mere mentionā€”about his heart being bad. I lighted the

gas in here, and helped him into the chair. He just sat down, laid his

head back, and died.ā€

 

ā€œWithout saying anything further?ā€ asked Collingwood.

 

ā€œNot a word more, Mr. Collingwood,ā€ answered Pratt. ā€œHeā€”well, it was

just as if he had dropped off to sleep. Of course, at first I thought

heā€™d fainted, but I soon saw what it wasā€”it so happens that Iā€™ve seen a

death just as sudden as that, once beforeā€”my landladyā€™s husband died in

a very similar fashion, in my presence. There was nothing I could do,

Mr. Collingwoodā€”except ring up Mr. Eldrick, and the doctor, and the

police.ā€

 

ā€œMr. Pratt made himself very useful last night in making arrangements,ā€

remarked Eldrick, looking at Collingwood. ā€œAs it is, there is very

little to do. There will be no need for any inquest; Melrose has given

his certificate. Soā€”there are only the funeral arrangements. We can

help you with that matter, of course. But first youā€™d no doubt like to

go to your grandfatherā€™s place and look through his papers? We have his

will here, you knowā€”and Iā€™ve already told you its effect.ā€

 

ā€œIā€™m much obliged to you, Mr. Pratt,ā€ said Collingwood, turning to the

clerk. He turned again to Eldrick. ā€œAll right,ā€ he went on. ā€œIā€™ll go

over to Quagg Alley. Bye-the-bye, Mr. Prattā€”my grandfather didnā€™t tell

you anything of the reason of his call here?ā€

 

ā€œNot a word, sir,ā€ replied Pratt. ā€œMerely said he wanted Mr. Eldrick.ā€

 

ā€œHad he any legal business in process?ā€ asked Collingwood.

 

Eldrick and his clerk both shook their heads. No, Mr. Bartle had no

business of that sort that they knew of. Nothingā€”but there again Pratt

was prepared.

 

ā€œIt might have been about the lease of that property in Horsebridge

Land, sir,ā€ he said, glancing at his principal. ā€œHe did mention that,

you know, when he was in here a few weeks ago.ā€

 

ā€œJust so,ā€ agreed Eldrick. ā€œWell, youā€™ll let me know if we can be of

use,ā€ he went on, as Collingwood turned away. ā€œPratt can be at your

disposal, any time.ā€

 

Collingwood thanked him and went off. He had travelled down from London

by the earliest morning train, and leaving his portmanteau at the hotel

of the Barford terminus, had gone straight to Eldrick & Pascoeā€™s office;

accordingly this was his first visit to the shop in Quagg Alley. But he

knew the shop and its surroundings well enough, though he had not been

in Barford for some time; he also knew Antony Bartleā€™s old housekeeper,

Mrs. Clough, a rough and ready Yorkshirewoman, who had looked after the

old man as long as he, Collingwood, could remember. She received him as

calmly as if he had merely stepped across the street to inquire after

his grandfatherā€™s health.

 

ā€œI thowt yeā€™d be down here first thing, Mestur Collingwood,ā€ she said,

as he walked into the parlor at the back of the shop. ā€œOf course,

thereā€™s naught to be done except to see after yer grandfatherā€™s burying.

I donā€™t know if ye were surprised or no when tā€™ lawyers tellygraphed to

yer last night? I werenā€™t surprised to hear what had happened. Iā€™d been

expecting summat oā€™ that sort this last month or two.ā€

 

ā€œYou meanā€”he was failing?ā€ asked Collingwood.

 

ā€œHe were gettinā€™ feebler and feebler every day,ā€ said the housekeeper.

ā€œBut nobody dare say so to him, and he wouldnā€™t admit it hisself. He

were that theer high-spirited ā€˜at he did things same as if he were a

young man. But I knew how it ā€˜ud be in the endā€”and so it has beenā€”I

knew heā€™d go off all of a sudden. And of course I had all in

readinessā€”when they brought him back last night there was naught to do

but lay him out. Me and Mrs. Thompson next door, did it, iā€™ no time.

Wheer will you be for buryinā€™ him, Mestur Collingwood?ā€

 

ā€œWe must think that over,ā€ answered Collingwood.

 

ā€œWell, anā€™ theerā€™s all ready for that, too,ā€ responded Mrs. Clough.

ā€œHeā€™s had his grave all ready iā€™ the cemetery this three yearā€”I

remember when he bowt itā€”itā€™s under a yew-tree, and he told me ā€˜at heā€™d

ordered his monnyment anā€™ all. So yer anā€™ tā€™ lawyersā€™ll have no great

trouble about them matters. Mestur Eldrick, he gevā€™ orders for tā€™ coffin

last night.ā€

 

Collingwood left these gruesome detailsā€”highly pleasing to their

narratorā€”and went up to look at his dead grandfather. He had never seen

much of him, but they had kept up a regular correspondence, and always

been on terms of affection, and he was sorry that he had not been with

the old man at the last. He remained looking at the queer, quiet, old

face for a while; when he went down again, Mrs. Clough was talking to a

sharp-looking lad, of apparently sixteen or seventeen years, who stood

at the door leading into the shop, and who glanced at Collingwood with

keen interest and speculation.

 

ā€œHereā€™s Jabey Naylor wants to know if heā€™s to do aught, Mestur,ā€ said

the housekeeper. ā€œOf course, Iā€™ve telled him ā€˜at we canā€™t have the shop

open till the buryingā€™s overā€”so I donā€™t know what theer is that he can

do.ā€

 

ā€œOh, well, let him come into the shop with me,ā€ answered Collingwood. He

motioned the lad to follow him out of the parlour. ā€œSo you were Mr.

Bartleā€™s assistant, eh?ā€ he asked. ā€œHad he anybody else?ā€

 

ā€œNobody but me, sir,ā€ replied the lad. ā€œIā€™ve been with him a year.ā€

 

ā€œAnd your nameā€™s what?ā€ inquired Collingwood.

 

ā€œJabez Naylor, sir, but everybody call me Jabey.ā€

 

ā€œI seeā€”Jabey for short, eh?ā€ said Collingwood good-humouredly. He

walked into the shop, followed by the boy, and closed the door. The

outer door into Quagg Alley was locked: a light blind was drawn over the

one window; the books and engravings on the shelves and in the presses

were veiled in a half-gloom. ā€œWell, as Mrs. Clough says, we canā€™t do any

business for a few days, Jabeyā€”after that we must see what can be done.

You shall have your wages just the same, of course, and you may look in

every day to see if thereā€™s anything you can do. You were here

yesterday, of course? Were you in the shop when Mr. Bartle went out?ā€

 

ā€œYes, sir,ā€ replied the lad. ā€œIā€™d been in with him all the afternoon. I

was here when he went outā€”and here when they came to say heā€™d died at

Mr. Eldrickā€™s.ā€

 

Collingwood sat down in his grandfatherā€™s chair, at a big table, piled

high with books and papers, which stood in the middle of the floor.

 

ā€œDid my grandfather seem at all unwell when he went out?ā€ he asked.

 

ā€œNo, sir. He had been coughing a bit more than usualā€”that was all.

There was a fog came on about five oā€™clock, and he said it bothered

him.ā€

 

ā€œWhat had he been doing during the afternoon? Anything particular?ā€

 

ā€œNothing at all particular before half-past four or so, sir.ā€

 

Collingwood took a closer look at Jabez Naylor. He saw that he was an

observant lad, evidently of superior intelligenceā€”a good specimen of

the sharp town lad, well trained in a modern elementary school.

 

ā€œOh?ā€ he said. ā€œNothing particular before half-past four, eh? Did he do

something particular after half-past four?ā€

 

ā€œThere was a post came in just about then, sir,ā€ answered Jabey. ā€œThere

was an American letterā€”thatā€™s it, sirā€”just in front of you. Mr. Bartle

read it, and asked me if weā€™d got a good clear copy of Hopkinsonā€™s

History of Barford. I reminded him that there was a copy amongst the

books that had been bought from Mallathorpeā€™s Mill some time ago.ā€

 

ā€œBooks that had belonged to Mr. John Mallathorpe, who was killed?ā€ asked

Collingwood, who was fully acquainted with the chimney accident.

 

ā€œYes, sir, Mr. Bartle bought a lot of books that Mr. Mallathorpe had at

the Millā€”local books. Theyā€™re there in that corner: they were put there

when I fetched them, and heā€™d never looked over them since,

particularly.ā€

 

ā€œWellā€”and this History of Barford? You reminded him of it?ā€

 

ā€œI got it out for him, sir. He sat downā€”where youā€™re sittingā€”and began

to examine it. He said something about it being a nice copy, and heā€™d

get it off that nightā€”thatā€™s it, sir: I didnā€™t read it, of course. And

then he took some papers out of a pocket thatā€™s inside it, and I heard

him say ā€˜Bless my soulā€”whoā€™d have thought it!ā€™ā€

 

Collingwood picked up the book which the boy indicatedā€”a thick,

substantially bound volume, inside one cover of which was a linen

pocket, wherein were some loose maps and plans of Barford.

 

ā€œThese what he took out?ā€ he asked, holding them up.

 

ā€œYes, sir, but there was another paper, with writing on itā€”a biggish

sheet of paperā€”written all over.ā€

 

ā€œDid you see what the writing was? Did you see any of it?ā€

 

ā€œNo, sirā€”only that it was writing, I was dusting those shelves out,

over there; when I heard Mr. Bartle say what he did. I just looked

round, over my shoulderā€”that was all.ā€

 

ā€œWas he reading this paper that you speak of?ā€

 

ā€œYes, sirā€”he was holding it up to the gas, reading it.ā€

 

ā€œDo you know what he did with it?ā€

 

ā€œYes, sirā€”he folded it up and put it in his pocket.ā€

 

ā€œDid he say any moreā€”make any remark?ā€

 

ā€œNo, sir. He wrote a letter then.ā€

 

ā€œAt once?ā€

 

ā€œYes, sirā€”straight off. But he wasnā€™t more than a minute writing it.

Then he sent me to post it at the pillar-box, at the end of the Alley.ā€

 

ā€œDid you

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