“The old man asked for justice and punishment on the destroyer of his child, and he shall have it. Until now, Fred, I tell you fairly, Frank has been my favourite nephew. From the time he was a child, I have looked upon him as my son and heir, and I had left him two-thirds of all my property, the remainder to yourself. I yesterday wrote to my solicitor, requesting him to draw out a new will, leaving everything to yourself.”
Fred was decided now. He would risk it. It was evident that if he confessed the fault, he should get nothing; if he could keep up this extraordinary mistake, he should get all; and he really risked nothing, for if he were found out, he should be no worse off then than if he confessed now. It was worth trying for, at any rate. A host of dangers rose up before him, but he put them aside to consider and meet them as they might occur. It was a great stake he was playing for. The whole of Mr. Bradshaw's estates, or nothing; for if he confessed, he should certainly get nothing. He spoke coolly and collectedly.
“I thank you for your kind intentions, uncle, but I can hardly think of this now, I am so surprised, so shocked at this terrible story. I could not have believed that Frank would do such a thing. I knew he was rash and headstrong. I heard, indeed, some stories whispered about him at Cambridge, but I could never—no, not for a moment—have believed him capable of such a cold-blooded villany as this seems to have been. Oh, uncle, there must surely be some mistake.”
“No, Fred; there is no mistake. It is too true. There was no mistaking the man's manner. He was terribly in earnest.”
Fred Bingham said no more for a while, but sat thinking deeply on the course to pursue. At last he said,—
“And what do you mean to do about Frank, uncle? Do you mean to write and tell him what you have discovered?”
“I have been writing this afternoon: I have not sealed the letter. There, you can read what I have said. If he has any excuse to offer for himself—not that he can possibly have any—he will write and urge it.”
Fred Bingham took the letter and read it through very slowly, in order to give himself the more time to think. The letter recapitulated the incidents connected with Frank's first knowledge of the tobacconist, recalled the warning given to him respecting the pretty daughter, and his promise not to call there again, and then recited Stephen Walker's visit, and the terrible charge brought against him. It concluded by cutting off all connection whatever with him, and forbidding him ever to speak to his uncle again.
Fred saw at once that Frank, upon the receipt of this letter, would insist upon an explanation, would go to the tobacconist and bring him round in triumph to prove his innocence, and that his own guilt would infallibly appear.