The Talleyrand Maxim | Page 8

a shrewd idea that
his request would be refused. No--it was difficult to get out of a rut.
And yet--he was a clever fellow, a good-looking fellow, a sharp,
shrewd, able--and here was a chance, such a chance as scarcely ever
comes to a man. He would be a fool if he did not take it, and use it to
his own best and lasting advantage.
And so he locked up the will in a safe place, and went to bed, resolved
to take a bold step towards fortune on the morrow.
CHAPTER III
THE SHOP-BOY
When Pratt arrived at Eldrick & Pascoe's office at his usual hour of
nine next morning, he found the senior partner already there. And with
him was a young man whom the clerk at once set down as Mr. Bartle
Collingwood, and looked at with considerable interest and curiosity. He
had often heard of Mr. Bartle Collingwood, but had never seen him. He
knew that he was the only son of old Antony Bartle's only child--a
daughter who had married a London man; he knew, too, that
Collingwood's parents were both dead, and that the old bookseller had
left their son everything he possessed--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 Bartle'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 grandfather's death.
"Here is Pratt," said Eldrick, glancing into the outer office as the clerk
entered it. "Pratt, come in here--here is Mr. Bartle Collingwood, He
would like you to tell him the facts about Mr. Bartle's death."
Pratt walked in--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.
"There's very little to tell, sir," he said, with a polite acknowledgment
of Collingwood's greeting. "Mr. Bartle came up here just as I was
leaving--everybody else had left. He wanted to see Mr. Eldrick. Why,
he didn'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
something--just a mere mention--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."
"Without saying anything further?" asked Collingwood.
"Not a word more, Mr. Collingwood," answered Pratt. "He--well, it
was just as if he had dropped off to sleep. Of course, at first I thought

he'd fainted, but I soon saw what it was--it so happens that I've seen a
death just as sudden as that, once before--my landlady's husband died
in a very similar fashion, in my presence. There was nothing I could do,
Mr. Collingwood--except ring up Mr. Eldrick, and the doctor, and the
police."
"Mr. Pratt made himself very useful last night in making
arrangements," remarked Eldrick, looking at Collingwood. "As it is,
there is very little to do. There will be no need for any inquest; Melrose
has given his certificate. So--there are only the funeral arrangements.
We can help you with that matter, of course. But first you'd no doubt
like to go to your grandfather's place and look through his papers? We
have his will here, you know--and I've already told you its effect."
"I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Pratt," said Collingwood, turning to the
clerk. He turned again to Eldrick. "All right," he went on. "I'll go over
to Quagg Alley. Bye-the-bye, Mr. Pratt--my grandfather didn't tell you
anything of the reason of his call here?"
"Not a word, sir," replied Pratt. "Merely said he wanted Mr. Eldrick."
"Had he any legal business in process?" asked Collingwood.
Eldrick and his clerk both shook their heads. No, Mr. Bartle had no
business of that sort that they knew of. Nothing--but