“No offence, no offence,” answered Tantaine; “but the fact is, the newspapers are doing you a great deal of harm, by retailing some of the means adopted by your colleague to make the boys do a good day’s work. Do you recollect the sentence on that master who tied one of his lads down on a bed, and left him without food for two days at a stretch?”
“I don’t care about such matters; no one can bring a charge of cruelty against me,” retorted Perpignan angrily.
“A man with the kindest heart in the world may be the victim of circumstances.”
Perpignan felt that the decisive moment was at hand.
“What do you mean?” asked he.
“Well, suppose, to punish one of your refractory lads, you were to shut him in the cellar. A storm comes on during the night, the gutter gets choked up, the cellar fills with water, and next morning you find the little cherub drowned like a rat in his hole?”
Perpignan’s face was livid.
“Well, and what then?” asked he.
“Ah! now the awkward part of the matter comes. You would not care to send for the police, that might excite suspicion; the easiest thing is to dig a hole and shove the body into it.”
Perpignan got up and placed his back against the door.