Reading books MYSTERY & CRIME online for free


Electronic library worldlibraryebooks.com is available online to read books MYSTERY & CRIME from your laptop, computer or smartphone. Reading books always was and will be a good habit. Our website is full of ebooks in different genres. Without registration you can find a book to your taste to dive into the world of book characters, events, emotions and adventures.


Genre MYSTERY & CRIME what is it?


Reading books MYSTERY & CRIMEHowever, all readers - sooner or later - find for themselves a literary genre that is fundamentally different from all others.
An astonishing number of readers read mystery and crime.
The peculiarities of such constant attention to mystery and crime by the most diverse readership has been and remains the subject of numerous studies.
But seriously, a detective mystery should matted the reader. However, readers are very different: some try to guess who the killer is, others try to figure out the killer using mathematical methods, and others prefer to get pleasure only by turning the last page.
On the other hand, the law of the genre requires that a mystery and crime doesn’t cover all areas of a person's life at once. A crime puzzle should not be likened to love or historical novels. Only full concentration on the plot! In the same way, the atmosphere of fear, anxiety and horror gradually thickens in the thriller.
The cornerstone of the reader's well-deserved interest mystery and crime is that the criminal is doomed to suffer the punishment he deserves. This is the logic of the detective form. Otherwise, the reader will be dissatisfied and even annoyed.
Naturally, you can’t create a perfect story of mystery and crime . The author must inevitably sacrifice something of his own, but he must have some higher value that would fundamentally distinguish him from other authors. The works of Hammett, Chandler, McDonald, Cain, Stout, containing such peculiar "Emeralds", from generation to generation remain interesting for millions of fans, young and old.


Genre MYSTERY & CRIME read without registration


Also look at the THRILLER, HORROR or TRUE CRIME genres here you will find more popular books for yourself


Your smartphone is ready to find a book of mystery and crime, start read ebook right now. Don’t waste your time for registration.
Our website without registering let you read online. Find new books recently released in our electronic library.

Read books online » Mystery & Crime » The Talleyrand Maxim by J. S. Fletcher (book reader for pc .TXT) 📖

Book online «The Talleyrand Maxim by J. S. Fletcher (book reader for pc .TXT) 📖». Author J. S. Fletcher



1 ... 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 ... 37
Go to page:
this. If—you make terms with me, Mrs.

Mallathorpe.”

 

“What do you want?” she asked sullenly. “You forget—I’ve nothing of my

own. I didn’t come into anything.”

 

“I’ve a pretty good notion who’s real master here—and at Mallathorpe

Mill, too,” retorted Pratt. “I should say you’re still in full control

of your children, Mrs. Mallathorpe, and that you can do pretty well what

you like with them.”

 

“With one of them perhaps,” she said, still angry and sullen. “But—I

tell you, for you may as well know—if my daughter knew of what you’ve

told me, she’d go straight to these trustees and tell! That’s a fact

that you’d better realize. I can’t control her.”

 

“Oh!” remarked Pratt. “Um!—then we must take care that she doesn’t

know. But we don’t intend that anybody should know but you and me, Mrs.

Mallathorpe. You needn’t tell a soul—not even your son. You mustn’t

tell! Listen, now—I’ve thought out a good scheme which’ll profit me,

and make you safe. Do you know what you want on this estate?”

 

She stared at him as if wondering what this question had to do with the

matter which was of such infinite importance. And Pratt smiled, and

hastened to enlighten her.

 

“You want—a steward,” he said. “A steward and estate agent. John

Mallathorpe managed everything for himself, but your son can’t, and

pardon me if I say that you can’t—properly. You need a man—you need

me. You can persuade your son to that effect. Give me the job of steward

here. I’ll suggest to you how to do it in such a fashion that it’ll

arouse no suspicion, and look just like an ordinary—very

ordinary—business job—at a salary and on conditions to be arranged,

and—you’re safe! Safe, Mrs. Mallathorpe—you know what that means!”

 

Mrs. Mallathorpe suddenly rose from her chair.

 

“I know this!” she said. “I’ll discuss nothing, and do nothing, till

I’ve seen that will!”

 

Pratt rose, too, nodding his head as if quite satisfied. He took up the

copy, tore it in two pieces, and carefully dropped them into the glowing

fire.

 

“I shall be at my lodgings at any time after five-thirty tomorrow

evening,” he answered quietly. “Call there. You have the address. And

you can then read the will with your own eyes. I shan’t bring it here.

The game’s in my hands, Mrs. Mallathorpe.”

 

Within a few minutes he was out in the park again, and making his way to

the little railway station in the valley below. He felt triumphant—he

knew that the woman he had just left was at his mercy and would accede

to his terms. And all the way back to town, and through the town to his

lodgings, he considered and perfected the scheme he was going to suggest

to Mrs. Mallathorpe on the morrow.

 

Pratt lived in a little hamlet of old houses on the very outskirts of

Barford—on the edge of a stretch of Country honeycombed by

stone-quarries, some in use, some already worked out. It was a lonely

neighbourhood, approached from the nearest tramway route by a narrow,

high-walled lane. He was halfway along that lane when a stealthy foot

stole to his side, and a hand was laid on his arm—just as stealthily

came the voice of one of his fellow-clerks at Eldrick & Pascoe’s.

 

“A moment, Pratt! I’ve been waiting for you. I want—a word or two—in

private!”

CHAPTER VI

THE UNEXPECTED

 

Pratt started when he heard that voice and felt the arresting hand. He

knew well enough to whom they belonged—they were those of one James

Parrawhite, a little, weedy, dissolute chap who had been in Eldrick &

Pascoe’s employ for about a year. It had always been a mystery to him

and the other clerks that Parrawhite had been there at all, and that

being there he was allowed to stop. He was not a Barford man. Nobody

knew anything whatever about him, though his occasional references to it

seemed to indicate that he knew London pretty thoroughly. Pratt shrewdly

suspected that he was a man whom Eldrick had known in other days,

possibly a solicitor who had been struck off the rolls, and to whom

Eldrick, for old times’ sake, was disposed to extend a helping hand.

 

All that any of them knew was that one morning some fifteen months

previously, Parrawhite, a complete stranger, had walked into the office,

asked to see Eldrick, had remained closeted with him half an hour, and

had been given a job at two pounds a week, there and then. That he was a

clever and useful clerk no one denied, but no one liked him.

 

He was always borrowing half-crowns. He smelt of rum. He was altogether

undesirable. It was plain to the clerks that Pascoe disliked him. But he

was evidently under Eldrick’s protection, and he did his work and did it

well, and there was no doubt that he knew more law than either of the

partners, and was better up in practice than Pratt himself. But—he was

not desirable … and Pratt never desired him less than on this

occasion.

 

“What are you after—coming on a man like that!” growled Pratt.

 

“You,” replied Parrawhite. “I knew you’d got to come up this lane, so I

waited for you. I’ve something to say.”

 

“Get it said, then!” retorted Pratt.

 

“Not here,” answered Parrawhite. “Come down by the quarry—nobody about

there.”

 

“And suppose I don’t?” asked Pratt.

 

“Then you’ll be very sorry for yourself—tomorrow,” replied Parrawhite.

“That’s all!”

 

Pratt had already realized that this fellow knew something. Parrawhite’s

manner was not only threatening but confident. He spoke as a man speaks

who has got the whip hand. And so, still growling, and inwardly raging

and anxious, he turned off with his companion into a track which lay

amongst the stone quarries. It was a desolate, lonely place; no house

was near; they were as much alone as if they had been in the middle of

one of the great moors outside the town, the lights of which they could

see in the valley below them. In the grey sky above, a waning moon gave

them just sufficient light to see their immediate surroundings—a

grass-covered track, no longer used, and the yawning mouths of the old

quarries, no longer worked, the edges of which were thick with gorse and

bramble. It was the very place for secret work, and Pratt was certain

that secret work was at hand.

 

“Now then!” he said, when they had walked well into the wilderness.

“What is it? And no nonsense!”

 

“You’ll get no nonsense from me,” sneered Parrawhite. “I’m not that

sort. This is what I want to say. I was in Eldrick’s office last night

all the time you were there with old Bartle.”

 

This swift answer went straight through Pratt’s defences. He was

prepared to hear something unpleasant and disconcerting, but not that.

And he voiced the first thought that occurred to him.

 

“That’s a lie!” he exclaimed. “There was nobody there!”

 

“No lie,” replied Parrawhite. “I was there. I was behind the curtain of

that recess—you know. And since I know what you did, I don’t mind

telling you—we’re in the same boat, my lad!—what I was going to do.

You thought I’d gone—with the others. But I hadn’t. I’d merely done

what I’ve done several times without being found out—slipped in

there—to wait until you’d gone. Why? Because friend Eldrick, as you

know, is culpably careless about leaving loose cash in the unlocked

drawer of his desk, culpably careless, too, about never counting it.

And—a stray sovereign or half-sovereign is useful to a man who only

gets two quid a week. Understand?”

 

“So you’re a thief?” said Pratt bitterly.

 

“I’m precisely what you are—a thief!” retorted Parrawhite. “You stole

John Mallathorpe’s will last night. I heard everything, I tell you!—and

saw everything. I heard the whole business—what the old man said—what

you, later, said to Eldrick. I saw old Bartle die—I saw you take the

will from his pocket, read it, and put it in your pocket. I know

all!—except the terms of the will. But—I’ve a pretty good idea of what

those terms are. Do you know why? Because I watched you set off to

Normandale by the eight-twenty train tonight!”

 

“Hang you for a dirty sneak!” growled Pratt.

 

Parrawhite laughed, and flourished a heavy stick which he carried.

 

“Not a bit of it!” he said, almost pleasantly. “I thought you were more

of a philosopher—I fancied I’d seen gleams—mere gleams—of philosophy

in you at times. Fortunes of war, my boy! Come now—you’ve seen enough

of me to know I’m an adventurer. This is an adventure of the sort I

love. Go into it heart and soul, man! Own up!—you’ve found out that the

will leaves the property away from the present holders, and you’ve been

to Normandale to—bargain? Come, now!”

 

“What then!” demanded Pratt.

 

“Then, of course, I come in at the bargaining,” answered Parrawhite.

“I’m going to have my share. That’s a certainty. You’d better take my

advice. Because you’re absolutely in my power. I’ve nothing to do but to

tell Eldrick tomorrow morning.”

 

“Suppose I tell Eldrick tomorrow morning of what you’ve told me?”

interjected Pratt.

 

“Eldrick will believe me before you,” retorted Parrawhite,

imperturbably. “I’m a much cleverer, more plausible man than you are, my

friend—I’ve had an experience of the world which you haven’t, I can

easily invent a fine excuse for being in that room. For two pins I’ll

incriminate you! See? Be reasonable—for if it comes to a contest of

brains, you haven’t a rabbit’s chance against a fox. Tell me all about

the will—and what you’ve done. You’ve got to—for, by the Lord

Harry!—I’m going to have my share. Come, now!”

 

Pratt stood, in a little hollow wherein they had paused, and thought,

rapidly and angrily. There was no doubt about it—he was trapped. This

fearful scoundrel at his side, who boasted of his cleverness, would

stick to him like a leach—he would have to share. All his own smart

schemes for exploiting Mrs. Mallathorpe, for ensuring himself a

competence for life, were knocked on the head. There was no helping

it—he would have to tell—and to share. And so, sullenly, resentfully,

he told.

 

Parrawhite listened in silence, taking in every point. Pratt, knowing

that concealment was useless, told the truth about everything,

concisely, but omitting nothing.

 

“All right!” remarked Parrawhite at the end, “Now, then, what terms do

you mean to insist on?”

 

“What’s the good of going into that?” growled Pratt. “Now that you’ve

stuck your foot in it, what do my terms matter?”

 

“Quite right,” agreed Parrawhite, “They don’t. What matter is—our

terms. Now let me suggest—no, insist on—what they must be. Cash! Do

you know why I insist on that? No? Then I’ll tell you. Because this

young barrister chap, Collingwood, has evidently got some suspicion

of—something.”

 

“I can’t see it,” said Pratt uneasily. “He was only curious to know what

that letter was about.”

 

“Never mind,” continued Parrawhite. “He had some suspicion—or he

wouldn’t have gone out there almost as soon as he reached Barford after

his grandfather’s death. And even if suspicion is put to sleep for

awhile, it can easily be reawakened, so—cash! We must profit at

once—before any future risk arises. But—what terms were you thinking

of?”

 

“Stewardship of this estate for life,” muttered Pratt gloomily.

 

“With the risk of some discovery being made, some time, any time!”

sneered Parrawhite. “Where are your brains, man? The old fellow, John

Mallathorpe, probably made a draft or two of that will before he did his

fair copy—he may have left those drafts among his papers.”

 

“If he did,

1 ... 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 ... 37
Go to page:

Free ebook «The Talleyrand Maxim by J. S. Fletcher (book reader for pc .TXT) 📖» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment