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Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith), 1863-1935

"The Talleyrand Maxim"


"Anything wrong?" she asked at once.
"Bit of bother--nothing much--it'll blow over," answered Pratt, who knew
that a certain amount of candour was necessary in dealing with this
woman. "But--I shall have to be away for a bit--week or two, perhaps."
"You want to see her?" inquired Esther.
"Of course! I've some papers for her to sign," replied Pratt. "How do
things stand? Coast clear?"
"Miss Mallathorpe's going into Barford after lunch," answered Esther.
"She'll be driving in about half-past two. I can manage it then. How
long shall you want to be with her?"
"Oh, a quarter of an hour'll do," said Pratt. "Ten minutes, if it comes
to that."
"And after that?" asked Esther.
"Then I want to get a train at Scaleby," replied Pratt, mentioning a
railway junction which lay ten miles across country in another
direction. "So make it as soon after two-thirty as you can."
"You can see her as soon as Miss Mallathorpe's gone," said Esther.
"You'd better come into the house--I've got the key of the turret door,
and all's clear--the servants are all at dinner."
"I could do with something myself," observed Pratt, who, in his anxiety,
had only made a light breakfast that morning. "Can it be managed?"
"I'll manage it," she answered. "Come on--now."
Behind the summer-house in which they had met a narrow path led through
the shrubberies to an old part of the Grange which was never used, and
was, in fact, partly ruinous.


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