CHAPTER XIX
THE EYE-WITNESS
When Collingwood said that he was following out something of his own, hewas thinking of an interesting discovery which he had made. It was onewhich might have no significance in relation to the presentperplexities--on the other hand, out of it might come a good deal ofillumination. Briefly, it was that on the evening before thisconsultation with Eldrick & Byner, he had found out that he was livingin the house of a man who had actually witnessed the famous catastropheat Mallathorpe's Mill, whereby John Mallathorpe, his manager, and hiscashier, together with some other bystanders, had lost their lives.
On settling down in Barford, Collingwood had spent a couple of weeks inlooking about him for comfortable rooms of a sort that appealed to hislove of quiet and retirement. He had found them at last in an old houseon the outskirts of the town--a fine old stone house, once a farmstead,set in a large garden, and tenanted by a middle-aged couple, who havingfar more room than they needed for themselves, had no objection toletting part of it to a business gentleman. Collingwood fell in lovewith this place as soon as he saw it. The rooms were large and full ofdelightful nooks and corners; the garden was rich in old trees; from itthere were fine views of the valley beneath, and the heather-clad hillsin the distance; within two miles of the town and easily approached by aconvenient tram-route, it was yet quite out in the country.
He was just as much set up by his landlady--a comfortable, middle-agedwoman, who fostered true Yorkshire notions about breakfast, and knew howto cook a good dinner at night. With her Collingwood had soon come toterms, and to his new abode had transferred a quantity of books andpictures from London. He soon became acquainted with the domesticmenage. There was the landlady herself, Mrs. Cobcroft, who, having nochildren of her own, had adopted a niece, now grown up, and a teacher inan adjacent elementary school: there was a strapping, rosy-cheekedservant-maid, whose dialect was too broad for the lodger to understandmore than a few words of it; finally there was Mr. Cobcroft, amild-mannered, quiet man who disappeared early in the morning, and wassometimes seen by Collingwood returning home in the evening.
Lately, with the advancing spring, this unobtrusive individual was seenabout the garden at the end of the day: Collingwood had so seen him onthe evening before the talk with Eldrick and Byner, busied in settingseeds in the flower-beds. And he had asked Mrs. Cobcroft, just then inhis sitting-room, if her husband was fond of gardening.
"It's a nice change for him, sir," answered the landlady. "He's keptpretty close at it all day in the office yonder at Mallathorpe's Mill,and it does him good to get a bit o' fresh air at nights, now that thefine weather's coming on. That was one reason why we took this oldplace--it's a deal better air here nor what it is in the town."
"So your husband is at Mallathorpe's Mill, eh?" asked Collingwood.
"Been there--in the counting-house--boy and man, over thirty years,sir," replied Mrs. Cobcroft.
"Did he see that terrible affair then--was it two years ago?"
The landlady shook her head and let out a weighty sigh.
"Aye, I should think he did!" she answered. "And a nice shock it gavehim, too!--he actually saw that chimney fall--him and another clerk werelooking out o' the counting-house window when it gave way."
Collingwood said no more then--except to remark that such a sight mustindeed have been trying to the nerves. But for purposes of his own hedetermined to have a talk with Cobcroft, and the next evening, seeinghim in his garden again, he went out to him and got into conversation,and eventually led up to the subject of Mallathorpe's Mill, the newchimney of which could be seen from a corner of the garden.
"Your wife tells me," observed Collingwood, "that you were present whenthe old chimney fell at the mill yonder?"
Cobcroft, a quiet, unassuming man, usually of few words, looked alongthe hillside at the new chimney, and nodded his head. A curious,far-away look came into his eyes.
"I was, sir!" he said. "And I hope I may never see aught o' that sortagain, as long as ever I live. It was one o' those things a man cannever forget!"
"Don't talk about it if you don't want to," remarked Collingwood. "ButI've heard so much about that affair that----"
"Oh, I don't mind talking about it," replied Cobcroft. He leaned overthe fence of his garden, still gazing at the mill in the distance."There were others that saw it, of course: lots of 'em. But I was closeat hand--our office was filled with the dust in a few seconds."
"It was a sudden affair?" asked Collingwood.
"It was one of those affairs," answered Cobcroft slowly, "that some folkhad been expecting for a long time--only nobody had the sense to seethat it might happen at some unexpected minute. It was a very oldchimney. It looked all right--stood plumb, and all that. But Mr.Mallathorpe--my old master, Mr. John Mallathorpe, I'm talking of--he gotan idea from two or three little things, d'ye see, that it wasn't assafe as it ought to be. And he got a couple of these professionalsteeplejacks to examine it. They made a thorough examination, too--sofar as one could tell by what they did. They'd been at the job severaldays when the accident happened. One of 'em had only just come down whenthe chimney fell. Mr. Mallathorpe, himself, and his manager, and hiscashier, had just stepped out of the counting-house and crossed the yardto hear what this man had got to say when--down it came! Not theslightest warning at the time. It just--collapsed!"
"You saw the actual collapse?" asked Collingwood.
"Aye--didn't I?" exclaimed Cobcroft. "Another man and myself werelooking out of the office window, right opposite. It fell in thequeerest way--like this," he went on, holding up his garden-rake."Supposing this shaft was the chimney--standing straight up. As welooked we saw it suddenly bulge out, on all sides--it was a squarechimney, same size all the way up till you got to the cornice at thetop--bulge out, d'ye see, just about half-way up--simultaneous, like.Then--down it came with a roar that they heard over half the town! O'course, there were some two or three thousands of tons of stuff in thatchimney--and when the dust was cleared a bit there it was in one greatheap, right across the yard. And it was a good job," concluded Cobcroft,reflectively, "that it fell straight--collapsed in itself, as you mightsay--for if it had fallen slanting either way, it 'ud ha' smashed rightthrough some of the sheds, and there'd ha' been a terrible loss oflife."
"Mr. John Mallathorpe was killed on the spot, I believe?" suggestedCollingwood.
"Aye--and Gaukrodger, and Marshall, and the steeplejack that had justcome down, and another or two," said Cobcroft. "They'd no chance--theywere standing in a group at the very foot, talking. They were all killedthere and then--instantaneous. Some others were struck and injured--oneor two died. Yes, sir,--I'm not very like to forget that!"
"A terrible experience!" agreed Collingwood. "It would naturally fixitself on your memory."
"Aye--my memory's very keen about it," said Cobcroft. "I remember everydetail of that morning. And," he continued, showing a desire to becomereminiscent, "there was something happened that morning, before theaccident, that I've oft thought over and has oft puzzled me. I've neversaid aught to anybody about it, because we Yorkshiremen we're not givento talking about affairs that don't concern us, and after all, it wasnone o' mine! But you're a law gentleman, and I dare say you get thingstold to you in confidence now and then, and, of course, this is betweenyou and me. I'll not deny that I have oft thought that I would like totell it to a lawyer of some sort, and find out how it struck him."
"Anything that you like to tell me, Mr. Cobcroft, I shall treat as amatter of confidence--until you tell me it's no longer a secret,"answered Collingwood.
"Why," continued Cobcroft, "it isn't what you rightly would call asecret--though I don't think anybody knows aught about it but myself! Itwas just this--and it may be there's naught in it but a mere fancy o'mine. That morning, before the accident happened, I was in and out ofthe private office a good deal--carrying in and out letters, and accountbooks, and so on. Mr. John Mallathorpe's private office, ye'llunderstand, sir, opened out of our
counting-house--as it does still--thepresent manager, Mr. Horsfall, has it, just as it was. Well, now, on oneoccasion, when I went in there, to take a ledger back to the safe, Mr.Mallathorpe had his manager and cashier, Gaukrodger and Marshall in withhim. Mr. Mallathorpe, he always used a stand-up desk to write at--neverwrote sitting down, though he had a big desk in the middle of the roomthat he used to sit at to look over accounts or talk to people. Now whenI went in, he and Gaukrodger and Marshall were all at this stand-updesk--in the window-place--and they were signing some papers. At leastGaukrodger had just signed a paper, and Marshall was taking the pen fromhim. 'Sign there, Marshall,' says Mr. Mallathorpe. And then he went on,'Now we'll sign this other--it's well to have these things in duplicate,in case one gets lost.' And then--well, then, I went out, and--why, thatwas all."
"You've some idea in your mind about that," said Collingwood, who hadwatched Cobcroft closely as he talked. "What is it?"
Cobcroft smiled--and looked round as if to ascertain that they werealone. "Why!" he answered in a low voice. "I'll tell you what I didwonder--some time afterwards. I dare say you're aware--it was all in thepapers--that Mr. John Mallathorpe died intestate?"
"Yes," asserted Collingwood. "I know that."
"I've oft wondered," continued Cobcroft, "if that could ha' been hiswill that they were signing! But then I reflected a bit on matters. Andthere were two or three things that made me say naught at all--not aword. First of all, I considered it a very unlikely thing that a richman like Mr. John Mallathorpe would make a will for himself. Second--Iremembered that very soon after I'd been in his private office Marshallcame out into the counting-house and gave the office lad a lot ofletters and documents to take to the post--some of 'em bigenvelopes--and I thought that what I'd seen signed was some agreement orother that was in one of them. And third--and most important--no willwas ever found in any of Mr. John Mallathorpe's drawers or safes oranywhere, though they turned things upside down at the office, and, Iheard, at his house as well. Of course, you see, sir, supposing that tohave been a will--why, the only two men who could possibly have provedit was were dead and gone! They were killed with him. And of course, theyoung people, the nephew and niece, they came in for everything--sothere was an end of it. But--I've oft wondered what those papers were.One thing is certain, anyway!" concluded Cobcroft, with a grim laugh,"when those three signed 'em, they were picking up their pens for thelast time!"
"How long was it--after you saw the signing of those papers--that theaccident occurred?" asked Collingwood.
"It 'ud be twelve or fifteen minutes, as near as I can recollect,"replied Cobcroft. "A few minutes after I'd left the private office,Gaukrodger came out of it, alone, and stood at the door leading into theyard, looking up at the chimney. The steeple-jack was just coming down,and his mate was waiting for him at the bottom. Gaukrodger turned backto the private office and called Mr. Mallathorpe out. All three of 'em,Mallathorpe, Gaukrodger, Marshall, went out and walked across the yardto the chimney foot. They stood there talking a bit--and then--down itcame!"
Collingwood thought matters over. Supposing that the document whichCobcroft spoke of as being in process of execution before him wereindeed duplicate copies of a will. What could have been done with them,in the few minutes which elapsed between the signing and the catastropheto the chimney? It was scarcely likely that John Mallathorpe would havesent them away by post. If they had been deposited in his own pocket,they would have been found when his clothing was removed and examined.If they were in the private office when the three men left it----
"You're sure the drawers, safe and so on in Mr. Mallathorpe's room werethoroughly searched--after his death?" he asked.
"I should think they were!" answered Cobcroft laconically. "I helped atthat, myself. There wasn't as much as an old invoice that was not wellfingered and turned over. No!--I came to the conclusion that what I'dseen signed was some contract or something--sent off there and then bythe lad to post."
Collingwood made no further remark and asked no more questions. But hethought long and seriously that night, and he came to certainconclusions. First: what Cobcroft had seen signed was John Mallathorpe'swill. Second: John Mallathorpe had made it himself and had taken theunusual course of making a duplicate copy. Third: John Mallathorpe hadprobably slipped the copy into the _History of Barford_ which was in hisprivate office when he went out to speak to the steeple-jack. Fourth:that copy had come into Linford Pratt's hands through Antony Bartle.
And now arose two big questions. What were the terms of that will?And--where was the duplicate copy? He was still putting these to himselfwhen noon of the next day came and brought Eldrick and Byner for thepromised serious consultation.
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