“I am not too weak to talk about this terrible accusation. I am not going to say much now, only to ask you to throw aside all this prejudice and to look upon the mishap as an unfortunate occurrence. Come, Crampton, be a little broader. Don’t be so ready to suspect the first person you dislike, and then to keep obstinately to your opinion.”
“Better not talk any more,” said Crampton shortly.
“I must talk,” said Van Heldre, more sternly. “Mind this, Crampton, you are wrong.”
The care, want of rest, and anxiety had produced a state of acidity in the old clerk’s organisation which had made him exceptionally irritable.
“Wrong, eh?” he said sharply.
“Yes; and I must call upon you to be careful to keep these fancies to yourself.”
“Fancies, sir?”
“Yes, fancies, man. I would not on any consideration have Mr Vine know that such a suspicion had existed in my office, and—”
He paused for a few moments, and then held out his hand to the old clerk, who took it, and felt his own gripped warmly.
“Come, Crampton,” continued Van Heldre, smiling; “after all these years together, I trust we are something more than master and man. You have always proved yourself a friend in the way in which you have looked after my interests.”