The Talleyrand Maxim

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE CAT'SPAW

  On the evening of the day whereon Nesta Mallathorpe had paid him thevisit which had resulted in so much plain speech on both sides, Prattemployed his leisure in a calm review of the situation. He was by nomeans dissatisfied, it seemed to him that everything was going very wellfor his purposes. He was not at all sorry that Nesta had been to seehim--far from it. He regretted nothing that he had said to her. In hisdesperate opinion, his own position was much stronger when she lefthim than it was when he opened his office door to her. She now knew,said Pratt, with what a strong and resourceful man she had to deal: shewould respect him, and have a better idea of him, now that she was awareof his impregnable position.

  Herein Pratt's innate vanity and his ignorance showed themselves. He hadlittle knowledge of modern young women, and few ideas about them; andsuch ideas as he possessed were usually mistaken ones. But one was thatit is always necessary to keep a firm hand on women--let them see andfeel your power, said Pratt. He had been secretly delighted to acquaintNesta Mallathorpe with his power, to drive it into her that he had thewhip hand of her mother, and through her mother, of Nesta herself. Hehad seen that Nesta was much upset and alarmed by what he told her. Andthough she certainly seemed to recover her spirits at the end of theinterview, and even refused to shake hands with him, he cherished thenotion that in the war of words he had come off a decided victor. He didnot believe that Nesta would utter to any other soul one word of whathad passed between them: she would be too much afraid of calling downhis vengeance on her mother. What he did believe was that as time wentby, and all progressed smoothly, Nesta would come to face and acceptfacts: she would find him honest and hardworking in his dealings withMrs. Mallathorpe (as he fully intended to be, from purely personal andselfish motives) and she herself would begin to tolerate and then totrust him, and eventually--well, who knew what might or might nothappen? What said the great Talleyrand?--WITH TIME AND PATIENCE, THEMULBERRY LEAF IS TURNED INTO SATIN.

  But Pratt's self-complacency received a shock next morning. If he hadbeen a reader of London newspapers, it would have received a shock theday before. Pratt, however, was essentially parochial in his newspapertastes--he never read anything but the Barford papers. And when hepicked up the Barford morning journal and saw Eldrick's advertisementfor Parrawhite in a prominent place, he literally started from sheersurprise--not unmingled with alarm. It was as if he were the occupant ofa strong position, only fortified, who suddenly finds a shell droppedinto his outworks from a totally unexpected quarter.

  Parrawhite! Advertised for by Eldrick! Why? For what reason? For whatpurpose? With what idea? Parrawhite!--of all men in theworld--Parrawhite, of whom he had never wanted to hear again! And whaton earth could Eldrick want with him, or with news of him? It wouldbe--or might be--an uncommonly awkward thing for him, Pratt, if a reallyexhaustive search were made for Parrawhite. For nobody knew better thanhimself that one little thing leads to another, and--but he forbore tofollow out what might have been his train of thought. Once he wastempted to make an excuse for going round to Eldrick & Pascoe's with theidea of fishing for information--but he refrained. Let thingsdevelop--that was a safer plan. Still, he was anxious and disturbed allday. Then, towards the end of the afternoon, he bought one of theBarford evening papers--and saw, in staring letters, the advertisementwhich Byner had caused to be inserted only a few hours previously. Andat that, Pratt became afraid.

  Parrawhite wanted!--news of Parrawhite wanted!--and in two separatequarters. Wanted by Eldrick--wanted by some London people! What in thename of the devil did it mean? At any rate, he must see to himself. Onething was certain--no search for Parrawhite must be permitted inBarford.

  That evening, instead of going home to dinner, Pratt remained in town,and dined at a quiet restaurant. When he dined, he thought, and planned,and schemed--and after treating himself very well in the matter of foodand drink, he lighted a cigar, returned to his new offices, opened asafe which he had just set up, and took from a drawer in it a hundredpounds in bank-notes. With these in his pocket-book he went off to aquiet part of the town--the part in which James Parrawhite had lodgedduring his stay in Barford.

  Pratt turned into a somewhat mean and shabby street--a street of small,poor-class shops. He went forward amongst them until he came to onewhich, if anything, was meaner and shabbier than the others and boreover its window the name Reuben Murgatroyd--Watchmaker and Jeweller.There were few signs of jewellery in Reuben Murgatroyd's window--somecheap clocks, some foreign-made watches of the five-shilling andseven-and-six variety, a selection of flashy rings and chains werespread on the shelves, equally cheap and flashy bangles, bracelets, andbrooches lay in dust-covered trays on the sloping bench beneath them. Atthese things Pratt cast no more than a contemptuous glance. But helooked with interest at the upper part of the window, in which weredisplayed numerous gaily-coloured handbills and small posters relatingto shipping--chiefly in the way of assisted passages to various parts ofthe globe. These set out that you could get an assisted passage toCanada for so much; to Australia for not much more--and if the bills andposters themselves did not tell you all you wanted to know, certain bigletters at the foot of each invited you to apply for further informationto Mr. R. Murgatroyd, agent, within. And Pratt pushed open the shop-doorand walked inside.

  An untidily dressed, careworn, anxious-looking man came forward from aparlour at the rear of his shop. At sight of Pratt--who in the course ofbusiness had once served him with a writ--his pale face flushed, andthen whitened, and Pratt hastened to assure him of his peaceful errand.

  "All right, Mr. Murgatroyd," he said. "Nothing to be alarmed about--I'mout of that line, now--no papers of that sort tonight. I've a bit ofbusiness I can put in your hands--profitable business. Look here!--haveyou got a quarter of an hour to spare?"

  Murgatroyd, who looked greatly relieved to find that his visitor hadneither writ nor summons for him, glanced at his parlour door.

  "I was just going to put the shutters up, and sit down to a bite ofsupper, Mr. Pratt," he answered. "Will you come in, sir?"

  "No--you come out with me," said Pratt. "Come round to the _Coach andHorses_, and have a drink and we can talk. You'll have a better appetitefor your supper when you come back," he added, with a wink. "I've aprofitable job for you."

  "Glad to hear it, sir," replied Murgatroyd. "I can do with aught of thatsort, I assure you!" He went into the parlour, said a word or two tosome person within, and came out again. "Not much business doing atpresent, Mr. Pratt," he said, as he and his visitor turned into thestreet. "Gets slacker than ever."

  "Then you'll do with a slice of good luck," remarked Pratt. "It justhappens that I can put a bit in your way."

  He led Murgatroyd to the end of the street, where stood a corner tavern,into a side-door of which Pratt turned as if he were well acquaintedwith the geography of the place. Walking down a narrow passage heconducted his companion into a small parlour, at that moment untenanted,pointed him to a seat in the corner, and rang the bell. Five minuteslater, having provided Murgatroyd with rum and water and a cigar, heturned on him with a direct question.

  "Look here!" he said in a low voice. "Would a hundred pounds be any useto you?"

  Murgatroyd's cheeks flushed.

  "It 'ud be a fortune!" he answered with fervour. "A hundred pound! Lor'bless you, Mr. Pratt, it's many a year since I saw a hundred pound--ofmy own--all in one lump!"

  Pratt pulled out his roll of bank-notes, fluttered it in his companion'sface, laid it on the table, and set an ashtray on it.

  "There's a hundred pounds there!" he said, "It's yours to pick up--ifyou'll do a little job for me. Easy job, too!--you'll never earn ahundred pounds so easy in your life!"

  Murgatroyd pricked up his ears. According to his ideas, money easilycome by was seldom honestly earned. He stirred uncomfortably in hisseat.

  "So long as it's a straight job," he muttered. "I don't want----"

  "Straight enough--as straight as it's
easy," answered Pratt. "It mayseem a bit mysterious, but there's reasons for that. I give you my wordit's all right--all a mere bit of diplomacy--and that nobody'll everknow you're in it--that is, beyond a certain stage--and that there's nodanger to you."

  "What is it?" asked Murgatroyd, still uneasy and doubtful.

  Pratt pulled the evening paper out of his pocket and showed Murgatroydthe advertisement signed Halstead & Byner.

  "You see that?" he said. "Information wanted about Parrawhite. Do youremember Parrawhite? He once served you with some papers in that affairin which we were against you."

  "I remember him," answered Murgatroyd. "I've seen him in here now andagain. So he's wanted, is he? I didn't know he'd left the town."

  "Left last November," said Pratt. "And--there are folks--influentialfolks, as you can guess, seeing that they can throw a hundred poundsaway!--who don't want any inquiries made for him in Barford. They don'tmind--those folks--how many inquiries and searches are made for himanywhere else, but--not here!"

  "Well?" asked Murgatroyd anxiously.

  "This is it," replied Pratt. "You do a bit now and then as agent forsome of these shipping lines. You book passages for emigrants--and forother people, going to New Zealand or Canada or Timbuctoo--never mindwhere. Now then--couldn't you remember--I'm sure you could--that youbooked a passage for Parrawhite to America last November? Come! It's aneasy matter to remember is that--for a hundred pounds."

  Murgatroyd's thin fingers trembled a little as he picked up his glass."What do you want me to do--exactly?" he asked.

  "This!" said Pratt. "I want you, tomorrow morning, early, to send atelegram to these people, Halstead & Byner, St. Martin's Chambers,London, just saying that James Parrawhite left Barford for America onNovember 24th last, and that you can give further information ifnecessary."

  "And what if it is necessary?" inquired Murgatroyd.

  "Then--in answer to any letter or telegram of inquiry--you'll just saythat you knew Parrawhite by sight as a clerk at Eldrick & Pascoe's inthis town, that on November 23rd he told you that he was going toemigrate to America, that next day you booked him his passage, for whichhe paid you whatever it was, and that he thereupon set off forLiverpool. See?"

  "It's all lies, you know," muttered Murgatroyd.

  "Nobody can find 'em out, anyway," replied Pratt. "That's the oneimportant thing to consider. You're safe! And if you're cursed with aconscience and it's tender--well, that'll make a good plaister for it!"

  He pointed to the little wad of bank-notes--and the man sitting at hisside followed the pointing finger with hungry eyes. Murgatroyd wantedmoney badly. His business, always poor, was becoming worse: his shippingagency rarely produced any result: his rent was in arrears: he owedmoney to his neighbour-tradesmen: he had a wife and young children. Tosuch a man, a hundred pounds meant relief, comfort, the lifting ofpressure.

  "You're sure there's naught wrong in it, Mr. Pratt," he asked abruptlyand assiduously. "It 'ud be a bad job for my family if anything happenedto me, you know."

  "There's naught that will happen," answered Pratt confidently. "Who onearth can contradict you? Who knows what people you sell passagesto--but yourself?"

  "There's the folks themselves," replied Murgatroyd. "Suppose Parrawhiteturns up?"

  "He won't!" exclaimed Pratt.

  "You know where he is?" suggested Murgatroyd.

  "Not exactly," said Pratt, "But--he's left this country foranother--further off than America. That's certain! And--the folks Ireferred to don't want any inquiry about him here."

  "If I am asked questions--later--am I to say he booked in his own name?"inquired Murgatroyd.

  "No--name of Parsons," responded Pratt. "Here, I'll write down for youexactly what I want you to say in the telegram to Halstead & Byner, andI'll make a few memoranda for you--to post you up in case they write forfurther information."

  "I haven't said that I'll do it," remarked Murgatroyd. "I don't like thelooks of it. It's all a pack of lies."

  Pratt paid no heed to this moral reflection. He found some loose paperin his pocket and scribbled on it for a while. Then, as if accidentally,he moved the ash-tray, and the bank-notes beneath it, all new, gaveforth a crisp, rustling sound.

  "Here you are!" said Pratt, pushing notes and memoranda towards hiscompanion. "Take the brass, man!--you don't get a job like that everyday."

  And Murgatroyd put the money in his pocket, and presently went home,persuading himself that everything would be all right.