“I think I understand,” he said. “You two have formed a conspiracy to ruin me. I see it now.”
“If you speak in that way again,” said Moore, in a rage, “I will kick you out of the office.”
“I should like to have you refer the matter to Mr. Sands,” said Gilbert, betraying no alarm. “He will do me justice.”
“I ought to refer the matter to the nearest policeman,” said the book-keeper, in a menacing tone.
“Do so, if you like,” said Gilbert, though he shrank with natural reluctance from being arrested, innocent as he knew himself to be. “I am not without powerful friends, as you will find.”
“Don’t have him arrested, cousin Simon,” said John, with apparent compassion. “He has given up the money. Discharge him, and let him go.”
This was what Simon Moore had already determined to do. He knew very well that in any legal investigation John and he would incur suspicion, and for prudential reasons he preferred not to court any such publicity.
“I ought to arrest you,” he said, turning to Gilbert; “but I will have pity on your youth, hoping that this will be your last offence. I shall, of course, discharge you, since I should not be justified in retaining you under the circumstances. I will report to Mr. Sands why I was compelled to dispense with your services. I will pay you your wages up to to-day, and you need not come here again.”
“Don’t trouble yourself about that, Mr. Moore,” said Gilbert, with dignity. “I shall report to Mr. Sands when he returns, and abide by his judgment.”
“You had better not,” said Moore. “I advise you for your own good. Mr. Sands will still have it in his power to arrest you; your best course will be to leave the city, and go to some place where you are not known.”