“Keeping an eye on him—you mean?” said Prydale. “You said just now that in your opinion we should find him at his desk.”
“Just so—but that’s no reason why he shouldn’t be looked after tomorrow morning,” answered Byner.
“All right—I’ll put a man on to shadow him, from the time he leaves his lodgings until—until we want him,” said the detective. “That is—if we do want him.”
“It will be one of the biggest surprises I ever had in my life if we don’t!” asserted Byner. “I never felt more certain of anything than I do of finding Parrawhite’s body in that pit!”
It was this certainty which made Byner appear extraordinarily cool and collected, when next day, about noon, he walked into Eldrick’s private room, where Collingwood was at that moment asking the solicitor what was being done. The certainty was now established, and it seemed to Byner that it would have been a queer thing if he had not always had it. He closed the door and gave the two men an informing glance.
“Parrawhite’s body has been found,” he said quietly.
Eldrick started in his chair, and Collingwood looked a sharp inquiry.
“Little doubt about his having been murdered, just as I conjectured,” continued Byner. “And his murderer had pretty cleverly weighted his body with scrap iron, before dropping it into a pit full of water, where it might have remained for a long time undiscovered. However—that’s settled!”
Eldrick got out the first question.
“Pratt?”
“Prydale’s after him,” answered Byner. “I expect we shall hear something in a few minutes—if he’s in town. But I confess I’m a bit doubtful and anxious now, on that score. Because, when Prydale and I got down from Whitcliffe half an hour ago—where the body’s now lying, at the Green Man, awaiting the inquest—we found Murgatroyd hanging about the police station. He’d come to make a clean breast of it—about Pratt. And it unfortunately turns out that Pratt saw Prydale and me go to Murgatroyd’s shop last night, and afterwards went in there himself, and of course pumped Murgatroyd dry as to why we’d been.”
“Why unfortunately?” asked Collingwood.
“Because that would warn Pratt that something was afoot,” said Byner. “And—he may have disappeared during the night. He—”
But just then Prydale came in, shaking his head.
“I’m afraid he’s off!” he announced. “I’d a man watching for him outside his lodgings from an early hour this morning, but he never came out, and finally my man made an excuse and asked for him there, and then he heard that he’d never been home last night. And his office is closed.”
“What steps are you taking?” asked Byner.
“I’ve got men all over the place already,” replied Prydale. “But—if he got off in the night, as I’m afraid he did, we shan’t find him in Barford. It’s a most unlucky thing that he saw us go to Murgatroyd’s last evening! That, of course, would set him off: he’d know things were reaching a crisis.”
Eldrick and Collingwood had arranged to lunch together that day, and they presently went off, asking the detective to keep them informed of events. But up to half-past three o ’clock they heard no more—then, as they were returning along the street Byner came running up to them.
“Prydale’s just had a telephone message from the butler at Normandale!” he exclaimed. “Pratt is there!—and something extraordinary is going on: the butler wants the police. We’re off at once—there’s Prydale in a motor, waiting for me. Will you follow?”
He darted away again, and Eldrick looking round for a car, suddenly recognized the Mallathorpe livery.
“Great Scott!” he said. “There’s Miss Mallathorpe—just driving in. Better tell her!”
A moment later, he and Collingwood had joined Nesta in her carriage, and the horses’ heads were turned in the direction towards which Byner and Prydale were already hastening.
XXVII
Restored to Energy
Esther Mawson, leaving Pratt to enjoy his sherry and sandwiches at his leisure, went away through the house, out into the gardens, and across the shrubbery to the stables. The coachman and grooms were at dinner—with the exception of one man who lived in a cottage at the entrance to the stable-yard. This was the very man she wanted to see, and she found him in the saddle-room, and beckoned him to its door.
“Mrs. Mallathorpe wants me to go over to Scaleby on an errand for her this afternoon,” she said. “Can you have the dogcart ready, at the South Garden gate at three o’clock sharp? And—without saying anything to the coachman? It’s a private errand.”
Of late this particular groom had received several commissions of this sort, and being a sharp fellow he had observed that they were generally given to him when Miss Mallathorpe was out.
“All right,” he answered. “The young missis is going out in the carriage at half-past two. South Garden gate—three sharp. Anybody but you?”
“Only me,” replied Esther. “Don’t say anything to anybody about where we’re going. Get the dogcart ready after the carriage has gone.”
The groom nodded in comprehension, and Esther went back to the house and to her own room. She ought at that time of day to have been eating her dinner with the rest of the upper servants, but she had work to do which was of much more importance than the consumption of food and drink. There was going to be a flight that afternoon—but it would not be Pratt who would undertake it. Esther Mawson had carefully calculated all her chances as soon as Pratt told her that he was going to be away for a while. She knew that Pratt would not have left Barford for any indefinite period unless something had gone seriously wrong. But she knew more—by inference and intuition. If Pratt was going away—rather, since he was going away, he would have on his person things of value—documents, money. She meant to gain possession of everything that he had; she meant to have a brief interview with Mrs. Mallathorpe; then she meant to drive
