“No, sir,” was the answer, accompanied by a look of intelligence showing that the man comprehended his master’s meaning. “They were all gone—and I was just on the point of leaving likewise when Williamson called.”
“Then issue a writ this very day for the recovery of the amount,” said the lawyer. “Of course, Green, you will know nothing at all about having received the money from him?”
“Of course not, sir,” replied the clerk.
“And should he go to trial, you will swear that he never paid you?” continued the lawyer, speaking with the imperious authority of a man who knew that the other was in his power.
“It would not be the first time, sir, that I have perjured——”
“Well—well!” cried Mr. Heathcote, hastily; for though he did not mind suborning his clerk to commit a crime, yet he did not like to have the deed designated in plain terms and exhibited to his eyes in all its dreadful nakedness and reality. “Let this be done, Green: and take a guinea for yourself—charging it in the office-expenses of the week. You are a faithful servant—and I am pleased with you,” he added, in a patronising manner.
“I am truly grateful, sir, for your kindness and for your good opinion,” said the clerk, with a low bow: but at the same time he was compelled to stifle the sigh that rose to his very lips at the idea of being so dependent upon his master, and so enthralled by circumstances as to be compelled to submit to be made the tool—the base instrument—the despicable agent of that master’s hidden villany.
“Have you anything more in the diary?” demanded Mr. Heathcote.
“Nothing, sir,” responded the clerk: “unless it be that the two doctors are to call to-day for the second halves of the reward promised them for signing the certificate.”
“Good! pay them each immediately, the affair having been attended with complete success,” said the lawyer: “and indeed, you may give them each five guineas beyond the sum originally promised.”