“I am not, but one of my employers is. He’s away in the country, and during his absence I have taken charge of the premises. Insolence will avail you but little. You might have got me into trouble, imperilled my position—nay, almost ruined me—had you got clean away with the things you have purloined.”
“But I’ve not got away, and it’s no use supposing I have,” interrupted Peace. “It is a bad business, but can’t be helped. Do you mean to tell me that you are going to hand me over to the police?”
“It is my duty to do so.”
“Duty, be blowed! Look here, we’ve had a word or two. You’ve robbed me of the only woman I ever cared for. It’s driven me to distraction—that’s what it’s done—else I shouldn’t be here. It is all your fault—but, there, I bear you no animosity. Let bygones be bygones. I tell you I’ve been driven to distraction. Do you hear?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then, if you are the same generous Tom Gatliffe as I knew years ago, you wont be hard upon your old chum.”
“What would I give to be out of this difficulty?” exclaimed Gatliffe, in a tone of sadness. “Do, for mercy’s sake, mend your ways. Never make another attempt of this sort. It is, I hope, your first false step—let it be your last.”
“It shall be—I promise you that. It shall be the last,” he answered, with well-simulated hypocrisy.
“For the sake of those who are near and dear to you, do not, I charge you, stray from the path of honesty. A burglar—a midnight robber! It appears almost too terrible to believe. What am I to say to my employer?”
“You need not say that we were in any way acquainted. The attempt was made, and you frustrated it. That is all. I’m in your power, and throw myself upon your mercy. Let me go.”