Mr. John Mallathorpe's private office, ye'll
understand, sir, opened out of our counting-house--as it does still--the
present manager, Mr. Horsfall, has it, just as it was. Well, now, on one
occasion, when I went in there, to take a ledger back to the safe, Mr.
Mallathorpe had his manager and cashier, Gaukrodger and Marshall in with
him. Mr. Mallathorpe, he always used a stand-up desk to write at--never
wrote sitting down, though he had a big desk in the middle of the room
that he used to sit at to look over accounts or talk to people. Now when
I went in, he and Gaukrodger and Marshall were all at this stand-up
desk--in the window-place--and they were signing some papers. At least
Gaukrodger had just signed a paper, and Marshall was taking the pen from
him. 'Sign there, Marshall,' says Mr. Mallathorpe. And then he went on,
'Now we'll sign this other--it's well to have these things in duplicate,
in case one gets lost.' And then--well, then, I went out, and--why, that
was all."
"You've some idea in your mind about that," said Collingwood, who had
watched Cobcroft closely as he talked. "What is it?"
Cobcroft smiled--and looked round as if to ascertain that they were
alone. "Why!" he answered in a low voice. "I'll tell you what I did
wonder--some time afterwards. I dare say you're aware--it was all in the
papers--that Mr.
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