Mallathorpe turned inquiring looks on him, that as long as she was in
charge of them the Mallathorpe family fortunes would be safe.
"Mother," said Nesta, handing Collingwood's card to Mrs. Mallathorpe,
"this gentleman is Mr. Bartle Collingwood. He's--aren't you?--yes, a
barrister. He wants to see you. Why, I don't know. I have seen Mr.
Collingwood before--but he didn't remember me. Now he'll tell you what
he wants to see you about."
"If you'll allow me to explain why I called on you, Mrs. Mallathorpe,"
said Collingwood, "I don't suppose you ever heard of me--but you know,
at any rate, the name of my grandfather, Mr. Antony Bartle, the
bookseller, of Barford? My grandfather is dead--he died very suddenly
last night."
Mrs. Mallathorpe and Nesta murmured words of polite sympathy. Harper
suddenly spoke--as if mere words were some relief to his obvious
boredom.
"I heard that, this morning," he said, turning to his mother. "Hopkins
told me--he was in town last night. I meant to tell you."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Mallathorpe, glancing at some letters which
stood on a rack above the mantelpiece. "Why--I had a letter from Mr.
Bartle this very morning!"
"It is that letter that I have come to see you about," said Collingwood.
"I only got down here from London at half-past eight this morning, and
of course, I have made some inquiries about the circumstances of my
grandfather's sudden death.
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