‘I believe the directors of the Capital and Counties Bank advertised and interviewed for the post, sir. That is the usual way of filling a vacancy.’
‘It is, Harry.’ Mr Richards offered his cigar case around, and this time Harry took one.
‘You didn’t sit on the interview panel?’ Harry asked the clerk.
‘No, sir. Someone in my position in the firm wouldn’t. And as you see from this letter offering Mr Pritchard a contract, he started working for the company over ten years ago. I only joined the firm four years ago.’
‘What do you want to do, Harry?’ Mr Richards asked.
Harry shuffled the papers together. ‘These prove the agent has defrauded one tenant and – when we track down and interview the others, especially the ones he has evicted – I’m certain that we’ll be able to prove that he has defrauded more. Not to mention E and G Estates, because it appears that very little of what he collected from the tenants found its way into the company account. Given the fraud and the amount of produce he purloined from the Ellises, we can also prove that he perjured himself by stating that the family were in serious arrears. He had absolutely no right to evict them. And when we find Mary Ellis she will corroborate my story and confirm that Robert Pritchard assaulted me, not the other way around. Hopefully that will persuade the police to drop the charges that led to my arrest.’
‘Arrest, Mr Evans, sir?’ Anthony Beatty exclaimed.
‘It’s a long story, Mr Beatty. I also need to look into Ianto Williams’s affairs. I heard him tell Robert Pritchard that there was no need to send the Ellises’ stock to market, and that he would take the lot off his hands. That also sounds suspiciously like fraud to me. Perhaps we can employ a detective to investigate the dealings of both men. I would do it myself, but my first priority has to be to my family. And I would like to return to Pontypridd as soon as possible.’
‘May I suggest that we pay Robert Pritchard a visit so he can drop the charges against you?’ Mr Richards placed his cigar in the ashtray.
‘That would be a start, and my second priority has to be to get the Ellis children and Mary Ellis out of the workhouse.’
‘That may take some time, Harry,’ Mr Richards warned. ‘But our visit to Mr Pritchard can be made right away.’
Bob the Gob lived in an impressive four-storey, double-fronted Georgian house in Wheat Street, in the centre of Brecon. The taxi cab that Mr Richards had insisted on calling for Harry’s sake stopped outside the front door. Harry looked up and saw fine lace fluttering out of the open windows and the sound of a piano being played.
‘Mr Beatty?’ Mr Richards took the briefcase from the clerk. ‘Would you be kind enough to knock on the door and inform whoever answers it that the owner of E and G Estates wishes to see Mr Pritchard on urgent business? When you have done that, would you please take this taxi and go to the police station. Ask to see the sergeant, not a constable. I warn you that may mean a longish wait. Ask him to send an officer to arrest Mr Pritchard for fraud. Tell him we have all the evidence he needs. If he should argue with you, mention Mr Lloyd Evans’s name and warn him that the MP is a personal friend of the chief constable.’
Anthony Beatty left the taxi and knocked at the door. Harry sat back, away from the taxi window, and watched. A maid in a black dress, lace afternoon cap and apron opened it. She bobbed a curtsy. Anthony Beatty raised his bowler and spoke to her.
She listened, turned and ran back up a staircase carpeted in red plush. A few minutes later Robert Pritchard walked down the stairs, buttoning his jacket and straightening his tie. He offered his hand. The clerk shook it and returned to the taxi.
‘Are you sure that you want to face the man now, Harry? We can wait for the police.’ Mr Richards lifted the briefcase from the seat.
Harry wasn’t at all sure, but said, ‘Let’s get it over with.’ He left the back of the cab and held the door open for Anthony to get in.
Robert Pritchard was shaking hands with Mr Richards when he caught sight of Harry. ‘I don’t know what you are doing out of your cell, but I don’t allow filth over my doorstep.’
‘Oh, I think you’ll make an exception for me, Pritchard,’ Harry said curtly. ‘I own E and G Estates.’
The agent opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish scooped out of water.
‘Mr Evans is correct, Mr Pritchard,’ Mr Richards confirmed. ‘And, as we have business to conduct, I believe it would be better if we discussed it inside.’
Unable to look either Harry or Mr Richard in the eye, the agent focused on an indeterminate point across the street. Eventually, he stepped back and opened the door wider. ‘If you want to discuss business, you had better come into my office,’ he muttered. ‘Close the front door behind you.’
He led the way, walking to the right of the staircase and down a dark, narrow passageway. He opened a door in the back wall to reveal a large room that overlooked the yard behind the house. The only window faced a brick wall, and Harry had the feeling that he had walked from bright afternoon into evening twilight.
It didn’t help that the office was furnished in age-blackened oak and the walls painted a sombre dark green. The fireplace filled one half of the longest wall on their left. It was heavily carved in Jacobean style, whether real or reproduction Harry couldn’t tell. He knew very little about antiques, but he placed it in a different era to the house.
A glass-framed tapestry firescreen hid the fire basket and chimney. The fire irons in the hearth resembled the instruments of torture Harry had seen in continental museums, and he wondered if they had been made by a local blacksmith who had overdosed on Gothic novels. A red-and-green Turkish rug covered most of the floor. In the exact centre of the room, and dominating it, stood an antique oak desk, the largest Harry had ever seen.
He recalled the desk Mary and David had mentioned when he had told them about quill pens, and wondered if the agent had earmarked the Ellis property for his own use. After seeing Ianto Williams’s wife wearing Mrs Ellis’s jewellery, and eavesdropping on the conversation between Ianto Williams and Robert Pritchard, he was certain the family’s possessions hadn’t been put into a fair and open auction. If they had raised any money at all, and not been stolen as he suspected, he was equally certain that the proceeds hadn’t been deposited in either the Ellises’ debit account or declared to E&G Estates.
Two enormous leather chairs on the same scale as the desk stood either side of the fireplace. A matching, lower-back sofa faced the hearth between them. There were various corner cupboards and sideboards, all in the same dark carved oak, but Harry’s attention was drawn to four bureau bookcases. The glass doors above the drop-down desks appeared to be locked, but behind them he could see files and notebooks, some clearly marked ‘E&G Estates’.
There were more oil paintings on the walls than there were in the average gallery. Most were old, and Harry recognized that a couple were the result of creative inspiration, a few were very good, the majority mediocre and a handful indescribably bad. Slightly more than half were of local scenes. The rest were mainly portraits of stolid-looking men and women dressed in bygone fashions that weren’t rich or ornamental enough to be aristocratic dress.
The room might be Robert Pritchard’s office but Harry had the feeling that it served a double purpose as a clearing house for the goods that the agent appropriated from farmhouses ‘in lieu of debt’.
Bob the Gob sat behind his desk. He pointed to two upright wooden chairs set in front of it but Mr Richards wasn’t to be so easily manipulated.
‘As we have serious matters to discuss, it might be as well if we sit over here.’ Mr Richards took the left-hand leather chair, Harry the right, leaving Bob Pritchard with no choice but to sit on the low sofa between them.
‘You said that you own E and G Estates. I find that difficult to believe,’ Bob challenged, with less arrogance that he had exhibited when he had evicted the Ellises. ‘I have worked for the company for eleven years, ever since I was invalided out of the army.�
� He paused, clearly hoping that they would ask about his heroic exploits on the Western Front. When they didn’t, he continued. ‘In all that time I have dealt with Mr Owens at the Capital and Counties Bank, and he has never mentioned a Harry Evans to me.’
‘E and G Estates is part of a substantial trust -’ Mr Richards began.
‘Then you don’t own it.’ Pritchard turned on Harry. ‘You have wormed your way into my house under false pretences and I am going to call the police.’ He rose to his feet.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you, Mr Pritchard,’ Mr Richards cautioned. ‘And I wouldn’t interrupt either Mr Evans or myself when we are speaking again. Mr Evans is set to inherit E and G Estates along with other holdings when he reaches his majority. Until that time, he will continue to receive the full support of every member of the board of trustees of his estate, just as he has done since he was named sole heir to the trust.’
The agent stopped in his tracks and turned to Harry. ‘You really do own E and G Estates?’
‘It is not the largest company I own, but it is one of them,’ Harry confirmed.
Bob Pritchard continued to stand, transfixed, in the centre of the room, too stunned to move. ‘It really is yours,’ he muttered when he could finally speak again.
‘It is. And I will never forgive myself for allowing a man like you to be given the authority to assault and rape helpless women, terrorize families, steal their possessions, evict them from their homes and ruin people’s lives.’
For once, Bob Pritchard didn’t deny the accusations levelled at him. ‘You should have said. If you had said -’
‘You wouldn’t have raped Mary Ellis, intimidated her and her family, evicted them, attacked me or asked your policeman friend to arrest me?’ Harry enquired coldly.
‘I … I …’
‘Sit down, Mr Pritchard. As employer and employee, you and I have a great deal to discuss.’
It had taken Harry a long time, but he felt that Lloyd would have been proud of him. He had finally begun to assume the responsibility of running one of his own companies.
Chapter Twenty-two
Mr Richards opened the discussion. He spoke softly, yet every word was precise, business-like and to the point. Even when the solicitor had been a guest at their private family occasions, Harry had never seen him speak otherwise.
‘We are here, Mr Pritchard, because we have been alerted to irregularities and discrepancies in the accounts that you have submitted to E and G Estates.’ The old man looked intently at the agent, who appeared to be still in shock. ‘You do understand what I am saying to you, Mr Pritchard?’
‘There are no irregularities or discrepancies in the figures that I presented to Mr Owens.’ The agent regained his composure sufficiently to raise his chin but Harry thought he detected a flicker of fear in his eyes.
‘I’m afraid there are,’ Harry contradicted. ‘Mr Richards, if you’d be kind enough to show Mr Pritchard the evidence.’
The solicitor opened the briefcase he’d carried into the house and produced the records that Anthony Beatty had brought up from Pontypridd. He opened the topmost file and extracted a sheet of paper. ‘I believe this to be a copy of the account you sent at the end of last month to the Capital and Counties Bank, detailing the produce – or lack of it that you received from the Ellis Estate in the last quarter.’
‘It could be, I don’t know.’ The agent shifted uneasily on the sofa.
‘That is your signature.’ Mr Richards held up the sheet of paper.
Robert Pritchard peered at it. ‘It looks like it, but you can’t expect me to remember everything I took as payment from the Ellises.’
‘Then that balance sheet isn’t accurate?’ Harry challenged.
‘Of course it is.’
‘Either it is, or it isn’t, Mr Pritchard, which is it?’ Harry was surprised at his own insistence.
‘If I signed it, it must be accurate.’
‘If? You just admitted that the signature looked like yours.’ Harry took the sheet from Mr Richards. ‘I have seen for myself the amount of farm produce and livestock that you have taken from the Ellis Estate in the last quarter. None of it is mentioned here, yet I was assured by my clerk that these accounts are up to date, as of last Friday. I have also seen the records of the produce the Ellis family have given you over the last eight years, since the Ellis Estate was bought back by E and G Estates. None of it has appeared on any of the balance sheets you sent to the bank.’
‘What records? None of the Ellises can read or write,’ the agent said scornfully.
‘Nevertheless, they have invented a system that records the productivity of the farm and the produce they give you or – to be more accurate – you take.’
‘Anyone who says that I have taken anything from the Ellis Estate in the last quarters is lying.’ Pritchard blustered. ‘The Ellises are idle beggars. They’re incapable of running a small farm, let alone one the size of the Ellis Estate. That’s why I turned them off it. And I didn’t go to all the trouble of arranging the eviction with the police, the workhouse master and hiring the bailiffs for my own benefit. I did it for E and G Estates. The Ellises haven’t paid a penny off their rent arrears for months -’
‘Yes, they have,’ Harry countered baldly.
‘Are you accusing me of lying?’
‘Yes.’
Bob Pritchard rose to his feet and loomed threateningly over Harry. ‘Is this all the gratitude I’m going to get for giving E and G Estates my undivided loyalty? For devoting the best years of my life to the company?’
‘The Ellises are not the only family that you have cheated, robbed and evicted. There are others, and I intend to speak to all of my present and as many of my previous tenants as I can. I am certain that once we get them into a court of law, and ask them to swear to “tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth” on a Bible, they will have some interesting things to say about you and your methods of collecting rent, Mr Pritchard.’
‘You have nothing but hearsay -’
Mr Richards tapped the briefcase. ‘We have a great deal more, Mr Pritchard. And I suspect that the account books, ledgers and files in those bureau bookcases will also make interesting reading.’
‘Those are my personal and private papers.’
‘Marked E and G Estates,’ Mr Richards said.
‘They are personal observations.’ The agent’s face reddened. ‘You have no right to come into my house and look at my personal papers -’
‘I have every right, as your employer, to look at papers pertaining to the company I own. And when they arrive, the police will agree with me.’
‘If that’s a threat, it’s not going to work,’ Bob blustered. ‘I know the local police.’
‘Then you admit you bribe them?’ Harry enquired coolly.
‘I admit nothing of the kind. They are sensible men. They know the truth when it’s staring them in the face.’ The agent paced to the desk. ‘They’ll realize that you’ve concocted a pack of lies.’
‘We have sent Mr Beatty to the police station to request that the police arrest you for fraud, Mr Pritchard. All the evidence the officers will need is here.’ Mr Richards held up the briefcase again. ‘Coupled with the sworn statement that Mr Evans is prepared to make, I think that you’ll find the case against you overwhelming.’
The agent made one last desperate attempt to unnerve them. ‘It will be Mr Evans’s word against mine. He may be someone in Pontypridd but he is no one in Brecon.’
‘He is your employer and the owner of half the farms in the county, Mr Pritchard,’ Mr Richards reminded him.
‘I believe I have only uncovered the tip of an iceberg of deceit, fraud and crime perpetrated by you and your associates,’ Harry informed the agent icily. ‘And I am confident that a full investigation will discover a great deal more. If the local police do not have the resources to organize one, then I am prepared to pay private detectives to carry out the work for them.’
The co
lour drained from Bob Pritchard’s face. He fell into the chair behind his desk.
‘I suggest you think very carefully about your situation, Mr Pritchard,’ Mr Richards cautioned. ‘We know that you have defrauded tenants and E and G Estates. However, there are still a few things that you can do to lessen the prison sentence you will undoubtedly receive and possibly even the number of charges you will face.’
‘Prison?’ the agent croaked.
‘If you make a full and comprehensive confession, and produce your private account books – that’s if you kept any – and your personal bank statements and a breakdown of all the money and goods that you have stolen from the tenants as well as the company, it is possible that the trustees and Mr Evans may look more leniently at your case and not press every charge against you. Am I correct in that assertion, Mr Evans?’
‘The most important thing at the moment is to calculate the exact amount that you have stolen from my tenants so they can be recompensed,’ Harry said firmly. ‘That takes precedence over the money you have stolen from me.’
‘Stolen -’
‘I can’t think of any other word that describes what you have done,’ Harry interrupted. ‘I would also like an exact account of the business dealings and relationship between Ianto Williams and yourself. I heard him offer to take the Ellis livestock off your hands “to save you going to market”. Was that the normal arrangement at evictions?’
The agent sank his head in his hands. Harry glanced across at Mr Richard who was sitting as calm and composed as if he were in his own sitting room in Pontypridd.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and along the corridor. There was a knock at the door, followed a few seconds later by another.
‘Shouldn’t you see who that is, Mr Pritchard?’ Mr Richards prompted.
The agent left the sofa, walked to the door and opened it.
A young woman stood framed in the doorway. She was a little below average height, with white-gold hair and grey eyes.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ she smiled. ‘The girl told me that you have visitors, Robert. I would like to offer them some refreshment.’
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