Tomlinson was not naturally a vindictive man:—persons of his quiet and timid disposition seldom are. But there are certain affronts which, when oft repeated and dwelt upon in their aggregate, form a motive power that will arouse the most enduring and the weakest mind to action—especially, too, when accident throws a special opportunity of vengeance in the way.
James Tomlinson was a strange compound of good and bad qualities—the latter arising from his constitutional want of nerve, and his deficiency in moral energy. Had he been mentally resolute, he would have proved a good and great man. The conflicting elements of his character were signally demonstrated on this occasion, when he had determined to fly from the country.
Having given his clerks positive orders that he was not to be interrupted for some hours, he sealed up in different parcels the small sums of money which his various clients had placed in his hands to purchase scrip or other securities, and addressed the packets to those to whom the sums respectively belonged,—omitting, however, Greenwood in this category. He next computed the salaries due to his clerks, and set apart the amount required to liquidate those obligations also. These duties being accomplished, he locked all the parcels up in one of the drawers of his writing-table, and placed the key in his pocket. Greenwood's deposit he secured about his person.
When it grew dusk in the evening, he repaired to the lodging which Michael Martin occupied in Bethnal Green.
As soon as Tomlinson had made known his scheme to the old man—(but, of course, without betraying the fact of his intention to self-appropriate Greenwood's money)—Michael took a huge pinch of snuff, and reflected profoundly for some minutes.
"And what's the meaning of this all of a sudden?" demanded the ex-cashier at length.
Tomlinson explained, with great frankness, that the Resurrection Man had by some means discovered the secret of Michael's abode, and was again playing the part of an extortioner. He, moreover, expressed his invincible dislike for a city where he had experienced such painful reverses; and declared his resolution of no longer living in such a state of suspense and anxiety as he was kept in by the constant dread of an exposure in respect to his faithful old clerk.
"You need not leave London on that account," said Martin, gruffly: "I have long made up my mind how to act in case of detection."
"How?" asked Tomlinson, with a foreboding shudder.
"I should put an end to my life," returned the old man, filling his nose with snuff. "I am well aware that you would not have the courage to appear against me in a court of justice and boldly accuse me of having embezzled your funds——"