"That is
her writing."
"Very good," said Pratt. "Then before I read it to you, I'll just tell
you what this letter is. It formed, when it was written, an invitation
from Mrs. Mallathorpe to me--an invitation to walk, innocently, into
what she knew--knew, mind you!--to be a death-trap! She meant _me_ to
fall through the bridge!"
CHAPTER XV
PRATT OFFERS A HAND
For a full moment of tense silence Nesta and Pratt looked at each other
across the letter which he held in his outstretched hand--looked
steadily and with a certain amount of stern inquiry. And it was Nesta's
eyes which first gave way--beaten by the certainty in Pratt's. She
looked aside; her cheeks flamed; she felt as if something were rising in
her throat--to choke her.
"I can't believe that!" she muttered. "You're--mistaken! Oh--utterly
mistaken!"
"No mistake!" said Pratt confidently. "I tell you your mother meant
me--me!--to meet my death at that bridge. Here's the proof in this
letter! I'll tell you, first, when I received it: then I'll read you
what's in it, and if you doubt my reading of it, you shall read it
yourself--but it won't go out of my hands! And first as to my getting
it, for that's important. It reached me, by registered post, mind you,
on the Saturday morning on which your brother met his death. It was
handed in at Normandale village post-office for registration late on the
Friday afternoon.
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