“Yes!” answered Eldrick. “Esther Mawson knows them. She read the will carefully. She told Prydale just now what they were. With the exception of three legacies of ten thousand pounds each to your mother, your brother, and yourself, John Mallathorpe left everything he possessed to the town of Barford for an educational trust.”
“Then,” asked Nesta quietly, as she made a peremptory sign to her mother to be silent, “we—never had any right to be here—at all?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Eldrick.
“Then of course we shall go,” said Nesta. “That’s certain! Do you hear that, mother? That’s my decision. It’s final!”
“You can do what you like,” retorted Mrs. Mallathorpe sullenly. “I am not going to be frightened by anything that Esther Mawson says. Nor by what you say!” she continued, turning on Eldrick. “All that has got to be proved. Who can prove it? What can prove it? Do you think I am going to give up my rights without fighting for them? I shall swear that every word of Esther Mawson’s is a lie! No one can bring forward a will that doesn’t exist. And what concern is it of yours, Mr. Eldrick? What right have you?”
“You are quite right, Mrs. Mallathorpe,” said Eldrick. “It is no concern of mine. And so—”
He turned to the door—and as he turned the door opened, to admit the old butler who looked apologetically but earnestly at Nesta as he stepped forward.
“A Mrs. Gaukrodger wishes to see you on very particular business,” he murmured. “She’s been waiting some little time—something, she says, about some papers she has just found—belonging to the late Mr. John Mallathorpe.”
Collingwood, who was standing close to Nesta, caught all the butler said.
“Gaukrodger!” he exclaimed, with a quick glance at Eldrick. “That was the name of the manager—a witness. See the woman at once,” he whispered to Nesta.
“Bring Mrs. Gaukrodger in, Dickenson,” said Nesta. “Stay—I’ll come with you, and bring her in myself.”
She returned a moment later with a slightly built, rather careworn woman dressed in deep mourning—the woman in black whom they had seen crossing the park—who looked nervously round her as she entered.
“What is it you have for me, Mrs. Gaukrodger?” asked Nesta. “Papers belonging to the late Mr. John Mallathorpe? How—where did you get them?”
Mrs. Gaukrodger drew a large envelope from under her cloak. “This, miss,” she answered. “One paper—I only found it this morning. In this way,” she went on, addressing herself to Nesta. “When my husband was killed, along with Mr. John Mallathorpe, they, of course, brought home the clothes he was wearing. There were a lot of papers in the pockets of the coat—two pockets full of them. And I hadn’t heart or courage to look at them at that time, miss!—I couldn’t, and I locked them up in a box. I never looked at them until this very day—but this morning I happened to open that box, and I saw them, and I thought I’d see what they were. And this was one—you see, it’s in a plain envelope—it was sealed, but there’s no writing on it. I cut the envelope open, and drew the paper out, and I saw at once it was Mr. John Mallathorpe’s will—so I came straight to you with it.”
She handed the envelope over to Nesta, who at once gave it to Eldrick. The solicitor hastily drew out the enclosure, glanced it over, and turned sharply to Collingwood with a muttered exclamation.
“Good gracious!” he said. “That man Cobcroft was right! There was a duplicate! And here it is!”
Mrs. Mallathorpe had come nearer. The sight of the half sheet of foolscap in Eldrick’s hands seemed to fascinate her. And the expression of her face as she came close to his side was so curious that the solicitor involuntarily folded up the will and hastily put it behind his back—he had not only seen that expression but had caught sight of Mrs. Mallathorpe’s twitching fingers.
“Is—that—that—another will?” she whispered. “John Mallathorpe’s?”
“Precisely the same—another copy—duly signed and witnessed!” answered Eldrick firmly. “What you foolishly did was done for nothing. And—it’s the most fortunate thing in the world, Mrs. Mallathorpe, that this has turned up!—most fortunate for you!”
Mrs. Mallathorpe steadied herself on the edge of the table and looked at him fixedly. “Everything’ll have to be given up?” she asked.
“The terms of this will will be carried out,” answered Eldrick.
“Will—will they make me give up—what we’ve—saved?” she whispered.
“Mother!” said Nesta appealingly. “Don’t! Come away somewhere and let me talk to you—come!”
But Mrs. Mallathorpe shook off her daughter’s hand and turned again to Eldrick.
“Will they?” she demanded. “Answer!”
“I don’t think you’ll find the trustees at all hard when it comes to a question of account,” answered Eldrick. “They’ll probably take matters over from now and ignore anything that’s happened during the past two years.”
Again Nesta tried to lead her mother away, and again Mrs. Mallathorpe pushed the appealing hand from her. All her attention was fixed on Eldrick. “And—and will the police give me—now—what they found on that woman?” she whispered.
“I have no doubt they will,” replied Eldrick. “It’s—yours.”
Mrs. Mallathorpe drew a sigh of relief. She looked at the solicitor steadily for a moment—then without another word she turned and went away—to find Prydale.
Eldrick turned to Nesta.
“Don’t forget,” he said in a low voice, “it’s a terrible blow to her, and she’s been thinking of your interests! Leave her alone for a while—she’ll get used to the altered circumstances. I’m sorry for her—and for you!”
But Nesta made a sign of dissent.
“There’s no need to be sorry for me, Mr. Eldrick,” she answered. “It’s a greater relief than you can realize.” She turned from him and went over to Mrs. Gaukrodger who had watched this scene without fully comprehending it. “Come with me,” she said. “You look very tired and you must have some tea and rest awhile—come now.”
Eldrick and
