“I cannot undertake to keep my cash right, if other persons are allowed to go to my drawer,” I continued, rather savagely.
“What!” exclaimed my uncle, springing to his feet.
“I said what I meant to say,” I replied.
The remark hit just where I intended it should. Mr. Bristlebach and my uncle had been counting my cash. I had left it all right. If the deficiency was insignificant, it was still enough to ruin me. I had already made up my mind how my cash happened to be short. If the president had made the examination himself there would have been no deficiency. Of course I mean to say that Captain Halliard himself had been the author of the mischief. In other words, he had either taken three hundred dollars from my cash, or had falsely reported his count.
Before I ventured to make this violent statement, I put my uncle fairly on trial, and called up all the circumstances of our present relations to testify against him. He was determined to maintain his influence over me, and to prevent me from saying any thing to Aunt Rachel about him. I had refused to give up my house at his bidding, and prevented him from obliging his friend, Mr. Brentbone. I had roundly reproached him for his conduct to me, and used language which he could not tolerate in any one. I was satisfied that he had a strong motive for desiring to obtain a hold upon me.
A strong motive, however, is not sufficient to explain so dastardly an act as that in which I had dared to implicate my uncle. A man of integrity, simply an honest man, would not be guilty of so vile a deed. Was my uncle capable of such an act? He had procured my situation for me by bringing up a charge against Tom Flynn which both he and I knew was false—one which he himself had disproved as soon as his purpose was accomplished. If he would do one mean thing, he would not halt at another.
He had compelled me to pay the thousand dollars I owed Aunt Rachel, out of sheer malice, and only to put me in a position where he could control me. The mild speech of the president of the bank assured me that I was not to be harshly dealt with; and my uncle gently suggested that there might be a mistake.
“Be careful what you say, Mr. Glasswood,” said the president. “Now I’m going out to get a cup of tea; when I come back we will ascertain whether there is a mistake or not.”
Mr. Bristlebach left the room. My uncle looked embarrassed, thrust his fingers into his vest pockets, and seemed to be feeling for something. I was tempted to spring upon him, and throw out the contents of those pockets, for I was satisfied that the deficiency in my cash could be accounted for only in that way.