Volume Two—Chapter Eight.
Brought to Book.
“He—he—he—he—he! how cunning they do think themselves! What jolly owd orstridges they are!” chuckled old Gemp, as he saw Bayle leave the clerk’s house, and return home to his breakfast. “Dear me! dear me! to think of James Thickens marrying that old maid! Ah well! Of course, he didn’t go to her house for nothing!”
He was in the street, again, about ten, when the curate came out, and, as soon as he saw him, Gemp doubled down one of the side lanes to get round to the church, and secure a good place.
“They won’t know in the town till it’s over,” he chuckled. “Sly trick! He—he—he!”
The old fellow hurried round into the churchyard, getting before Bayle, as he thought, and posting himself where he could meet the curate coming in at the gate, and give him a look which should mean, “Ah! you can’t get over me!”
An observer would have found old Gemp’s countenance a study, as he stood there, waiting for Bayle to come, and meaning afterwards to stay and see Thickens and Miss Heathery come in. But from where he stood he could see the bank, and, to his surprise, he saw James Thickens come out on the step, and directly after the curate went up to him, and they entered the place together.
Gemp’s countenance lengthened, and he began shaving himself directly, his eyes falling upon one of the mouldering old tombstones, upon which he involuntarily read:
“Lay not up for yourselves treasure—” The rest had mouldered away.
“Where thieves break through and steal,” cried Gemp, whose jaw dropped. “They’re a consulting—parson and Sir Gordon—parson and Thickens twiced—parson at the bank—Hallam up to his eyes in debt!”
He reeled, so strong was his emotion, but he recovered himself directly.
“My deeds! my money!” he gasped, “my—”
He could utter no more, for a strange giddiness assailed him, and after clutching for a moment in the air, he fell down in a fit.
“Yes, he’s in his room, sir,” said Thickens, meeting Bayle at the bank door. “I’ll tell him you are here.”
Hallam required no telling. He had seen Bayle come up, and he appeared at the door of his room so calm and cool that his visitor felt a moment’s hesitation.
“Want to see me, Bayle? Business? Come in.”
The door closed behind the curate, and James Thickens screwed his face into wrinkles, and buttoned his coat up to the last button, as he seated himself upon his stool.
“Well, what can I do for you, Bayle?” said Hallam, seating himself at his table, after placing a chair for his visitor, which was not taken.
Bayle did not answer, but stood gazing down at the smooth, handsome-looking man, with his artificial smile and easy manner; and it seemed as if the events of the past few years—since he came, so young and inexperienced, to the town—were flitting by him.
“A little money?—a little accommodation?” said Hallam, as his visitor did not speak.
Could Thickens be wrong? No: impossible. Too many little things, that had seemed unimportant before, now grew to a vast significance, and Bayle cast aside his hesitancy, and, taking a step forward, laid his hand upon the table.
“Robert Hallam!” he said, in a low, deep voice, full of emotion, “are you aware of your position—how you stand?”
The manager started slightly, but the spasm passed in a moment, and he said calmly, with a smile:
“My position? How I stand? I do not comprehend you! My dear Bayle, what do you mean?” The curate gazed in his eyes, a calm, firm, judicial look in his countenance; but Hallam did not flinch. And again the idea flashed across the visitor’s mind, “Suppose Thickens should be wrong!”
Again, though, he cast off his hesitation, and spoke out firmly.
“Let me be plain with you, Robert Hallam, and show you the precipice upon whose edge you stand.”
“Good heavens, Mr Bayle, are you ill?” said Hallam in the coolest manner.
“Yes; sick at heart, to find of what treachery to employers, to wife and child, a man like you can be guilty. Hallam, your great sin is discovered! What have you to say?”
“Say!” cried Hallam, laughing scornfully, “say, in words that you use so often, ‘Who made you a ruler and a judge?’ What do you mean?”
“I came neither as ruler nor judge, but as the friend of your wife and child. There—as your friend. Man, it is of no use to dissimulate!”
“Dissimulate, sir!”
“Am I to be plainer?” cried Bayle angrily, “and tell you that but for my interposition James Thickens would at this moment be with Sir Gordon and Mr Dixon, exposing your rascality.”
“My rascality! How dare—”
“Dare!” cried Bayle sternly. “Cast off this contemptible mask, and be frank. Do I not tell you I come as a friend?”
“Then explain yourself.”
“I will,” said Bayle; and for a few minutes there was a silence almost appalling. The clock upon the mantelpiece ticked loudly; the stool upon which James Thickens sat in the outer office gave a loud scroop; and a large bluebottle fly shut in the room beat itself heavily against the panes in its efforts to escape.
Bayle was alternately flushed and pale. Hallam, perfectly calm, paler than usual, but beyond seeming hurt and annoyed, there was nothing to indicate the truth of the terrible charge being brought against him.
“Well, sir,” he said at last, “why do you not speak?”
Bayle gazed at him wonderingly, for all thought of his innocence had passed away.
“I will speak, Hallam,” he said. “Tell me the amount for which the deeds you have abstracted from that safe are pledged.”
“The deeds I have abstracted from that safe?” said Hallam, rising slowly, and standing at his full height, with his head thrown back.
“Yes; and in whose place you have installed forgeries, dummies—imitations, if you will.”
That blow was too straight—too heavy to be resisted. Hallam dropped back in his chair; while James Thickens, at his desk behind the bank counter, heard the shock, and then fidgeted in his seat, and rubbed his right ear, as he heard Hallam speak of him in a low voice, and say hoarsely:
“Thickens, then, has told you this?”
“Yes,” said Bayle in a lower tone. “He came to me for advice, and I bade him do his duty.”
“Hah!” said Hallam, and his eyes wandered about the room.
“This morning I begged him to wait.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Hallam again, and now there was a sharp twitching about his closely-shaven lips. “And you said that you came as our friend?”
“I did.”
“What do you mean?”
Bayle waited for a few moments, and then said slowly: “If you will redeem those deeds with which you have been entrusted, and go from here, and commence a new career of honesty, I will, for your wife and child’s sake, find the necessary money.”
“You will? You will do this, Bayle?” cried Hallam, extending his hands, which were not taken.
“I have told you I will,” said Bayle coldly. “But—the amount?”
“How many thousands are they pledged for?—to some bank, of course?”
“It was to cover an unfortunate speculation. I—”
“I do not ask you for explanations,” said Bayle coldly. “What amount will clear your defalcations?”
“Twenty to twenty-one thousand,” said Hallam, watching the effect of his words.
“I will find the money within a week,” said Bayle.
“Then all will be kept quiet?”
“Sir Gordon must be told.”
“No, no; there is no need of that. The affairs will be put straight, and matters can go on as before. It was an accident; I could not help it. Stop, man, what are you going to do?”
“Call in Mr Thickens,” said Bayle.
“To expose and degrade me in his eyes!”
Bayle turned upon him a withering contemptuous look.
“I expose you? Why, man, but for me you would have been in the hands of the officers by now. Mr Thickens!”
Thickens got slowly down from his stool and entered the manager’s room, where Hallam met his eye with a look that made the clerk think of what would have been his chances of life had opportunity served for him to be silenced for ever.
“I have promised Mr Hallam to find twenty-one thousand pounds within a week—to enable him to redeem the securities he has pledged.”
“And under these circumstances, Mr Thickens, there is no need for this trouble to be exposed.”
“Not to the public perhaps,” said Thickens slowly, “but Sir Gordon and Mr Dixon ought to know.”
“No, no,” cried Hallam, “there is no need. Don’t you see, man, that the money will be made right?”
“No, sir, I only see one thing,” said Thickens sturdily, “and that is that I have my duty to do.”
“But you will ruin me, Thickens.”
“You’ve ruined yourself, Mr Hallam; I’ve waited too long.”
“Stop, Mr Thickens,” said Bayle. “I pay this heavy sum of money to save Mr Hallam from utter ruin. The bank will be the gainer by twenty thousand pounds.”
“Twenty-one thousand you offered, sir,” said Thickens.
“Exactly. More if it is needed. If you expose this terrible affair to Sir Gordon and Mr Dixon they may feel it their duty to hand Mr Hallam over to the hands of justice. He must be saved from that.”
“What can I do, sir? There, then,” said Thickens, “since you put it so I will keep to it, but only on one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“Mr Hallam must go away from the bank and leave all keys with me and Mr Trampleasure.”
“But what excuse am I to make?” said Hallam huskily.
“I don’t think you want teaching how to stop at home for a few days, Mr Hallam,” said Thickens sternly; “you can be ill for a little while. It will not be the first time.”
“I will agree to anything,” said Hallam excitedly, “only save me from that other horror. Bayle, for our old friendship’s sake, for the sake of my poor wife and child, save me from that.”
“Am I not fighting to save you for their sake?” said Bayle bitterly. “Do you suppose that I am as conscienceless as yourself, and that I do not feel how despicable, how dishonest a part I am playing in hindering James Thickens from exposing your rascality? There, enough of this: let us bring this terribly painful meeting, with its miserable subterfuges, to an end. Thickens is right; you must leave this building at once and not enter it again. He must take all in charge until your successor is found.”
“As you will,” said Hallam, humbly. “There are the keys, Thickens, and I am really ill. When Mr Bayle brings the money I will help in every way I can. There.”
Bayle hesitated a moment, and then mastered his dislike. “Come,” he said to Hallam, “there must be no whisper of this trouble in the town. I will walk down with you to your house.”
“As my gaoler?” said Hallam with a sneer.
“As another proof of what I am ready to sacrifice to save you,” said Bayle. He walked with him as far as his door.
“Stop a moment,” said Hallam in a whisper. “You will do this for me, Bayle?”
“I have told you I would,” replied the curate coldly. “And at once?”
“At once.”
“You will have to bring me the money. No, you must go up to town with me, and we can redeem the papers. It will be better so.”
“As you will,” said Bayle. “I have told you that I will help you, will put myself at your service. I will let you know when I can be ready. Rest assured I shall waste no time in removing as much of this shadow as I can from above their heads.”
He met Hallam’s eyes as he spoke, just as the latter had been furtively Measuring, as it were, his height and strength, and then they parted.
End of Volume One.